Part 4

Said the Lieutenant, Carcajou: "I think you are right, Rof; but you can't hang a Comrade because he has weak eyes. No one has seen Pisew make the kill. We must have a new law, Your Majesty. That if again Kit-Beaver, or Cub-Fox, or Babe-Wapoos, or Young-Anyone is slain for eating, we shall all, sitting in Council, decide who is to pay the penalty. I think that will stop this murderous poaching."

"It will," whispered the Red Widow. "Lynx will never touch one of them again. He knows what Carcajou means."

"That is a new law, then," cried the King. "If any of Umisk's children are killed by one of us, sitting in Council we shall decide who is to be executed for the crime."

"Please, Your Majesty," squeaked Rabbit, "I keep the Boundary Law, but others do not. From Beaver's dam to the Pelican, straighter than a Man's trail, are my three Run-ways. My Cousin's family has three more; and in the Muskeg our streets run clear to view. Beyond our Run-ways we do not go. Nor do we build houses in violation of the law--only roads are we allowed, and these we have made. In the Muskeg parks, the nice open places Beaver has formed by damming back the waters, we labor.

"When the young Spruce are growing, and would choke up the park, we strip the bark off and they die, and the open is still with us. Neither do we kill any Animal, nor make trouble for them--keeping well within the law. Are we not ourselves food for all the Animal Kingdom? Lynx lives off us, and Marten lives off us, and Fox lives off us, and Wolf and Bear sometimes. Neither I nor my Tribe complains, because that law is older than the laws we make ourselves.

"But have we not certain rights which are known to the Council? For one hour in the morning, and one hour in the evening, just when the Sun and the Stars change their season of toil, are we not to be free from the Hunting?"

"Yes, it is written," replied Black King, "that no one shall kill Wapoos at the hour of dusk and the hour of dawn. Has anyone done so?"

"If they have, it's a shame!" cried Carcajou. "I do not eat Wapoos; but if everything else fails--if the Fish fail, if there are no Berries, if the Nuts and the Seeds are dried in the heart before they ripen, we still have Wapoos to carry us over. The Indians know this--it is of their history; and many a time has Wapoos, the Rabbit, our Little Brother, saved them from starvation."

"Who has slain Wapoos at the forbidden hour?" thundered Black King.

Again there was denial all around the circle; and again everybody felt convinced that Lynx was the breaker of the law. Said Black Fox: "It is well because of the new ruling we have passed, I think. If again Wapoos is killed or hunted at the forbidden hours, we shall decide in Council who must die."

"Also, O King," still pleaded Rabbit, "for all time have we claimed another protection. You know our way of life. For seven years we go on peopling the streets of our Muskeg Cities, growing more plentiful all the time, until there is a great population. Then comes the sickness on The Seventh Year, and we die off like Flies."

"It has been so for sixty years," assented Mooswa. "My father, who is sixty, has always known of this thing."

"For a hundred times sixty, Brother," quoth Carcajou; "it is so written in the legends of the Indians."

"It is a queer sickness," continued Wapoos. "The lumps come in our throats, and under our arms, and it kills. Your Majesty knows the Law of the Seventh Season."

"Yes, it is that no one shall eat Wapoos that year, or next."

"Most wise ruling!" concurred Carcajou. "The Rabbits with the lumps in their necks are poisonous. Besides, when there are so few of them, if they were eaten, the food supply of the Boundaries would be forever gone. A most wise rule."

"Has any one violated this protection-right?" asked the King.

"Yes, Your Majesty. This is the Seventh Year, is it not?" said Rabbit.

"Bless me! so it is," exclaimed Mooswa, thoughtfully. "I, who do not eat Rabbits, have paid no attention to the calendar. I wondered what made the woods so silent and dreary; that's just it. No pudgy little Wapooses darting across one's path. Why, now I remember, last year, The Year of the Plenty, when I laid down for a rest they'd be all about me. Actually sat up on my side many a time."

"Yes, it's the Seventh Year," whined Lynx; "look how thin I am. Perhaps miles and miles of river bank, and not even a Frog to be had."

"Alas! it's the Plague-year," declared Wapoos; "and my whole family were stricken with the sickness. They died off one--by--one--" Here he stopped, and covered his big, sympathetic eyes with soft, fur-ruffed hands. His tender heart choked.

Mooswa sniffed through his big nose, and browsed absent-mindedly off the Gray-willows. My! but they were bitter--he never ate them at any time; but one must do something when a Father is talking about his dead Children.

"Did they all die, Wapoos?" asked Otter; and in his black snake-like eyes there actually glistened a tear of sympathy.

"Yes; and our whole city was almost depopulated."

"Dreadful!" cried Carcajou.

"The nearest neighbor left me was a Widow on the third main Run-way--two cross-paths from my lane. All her family died off, even the Husband. We were a great help to each other in the way of consolation, and became fast friends. Yesterday morning, when I called to talk over our affliction, there was nothing left of her but a beautiful, white, fluffy tail."

"Horrible! oh, the Wretch!" screamed Black Fox's Mother; "to treat a Widow that way--eat her!"

"If I knew who did it," growled Muskwa, savagely, "I would break his neck with one stroke of my fist. Poor little Wapoos! come over here. Eat these Black Currants that I've just picked--I don't want them."

"That is a most criminal breach of the law," said the King, with emphasis. "If Wapoos can prove who did it, we'll give the culprit quick justice."

"Flif--fluf, flif--fluf," came the sound of wings at this juncture, and with an erratic swoop Whisky-Jack shot into the circle.

He was trembling with excitement--something of tremendous importance had occurred; every blue-gray feather of his coat vibrated with it. He strutted about to catch his breath, and his walk was the walk of one who feels his superiority.

"Good-morning, Glib-tongue!" greeted Carcajou.

"Welcome, Clerk!" said the King, graciously.

"Hop up on my antler," murmured Mooswa, condescendingly; "you'll get your throat full of dust down there."

Whisky-Jack swished up on the big platter-like leaf that was the first spread of Mooswa's lordly crown. He picked a remnant of meat food from his beak with his big toe, coughed three times impressively, and commenced:--

"Comrades, who do you suppose has come within our Boundaries?"

"Is it Cougar, the Slayer?" asked Black King, apprehensively.

"Is it Death Song, the Rattler, he who glides?" cried Marten, his little legs trembling with fear.

"Has my cousin, Ookistutoowan the Grizzly, come down from his home in the up-hills to dispute with me the way of the road?" queried Black Bear, Muskwa. "I am ready for him!" he declared, shaking his back like a huge St. Bernard.

"Didst see Train Dogs, bearer of ill news?" demanded Wolf. "Ur-r-r! I fear not!" and he bared his great yellow fangs viciously.

"Worse, worse still!" piped Whisky-Jack, spreading his wings out, and sloping his small round head down toward them. "Worse than any you have mentioned--some one to make you all tremble."

"Tell us, tell us!" cried Carcajou. "One would think Wiesahkechack had come back from his Spirit Home where the Northern Lights grow."

"_Francois has come!_" declared the Jay, in an even, dramatic voice.

The silence of consternation settled over the group.

"Francois and _The Boy!_" added Jack.

"What's a Boy?" asked Lynx.

"I know," asserted Mooswa. "When I was a calf in the Company's corral at Fort Resolution, I played with a Boy, the Factor's Man-Cub. Great Horns! he was nice. Many a time he gave me to eat the queer grass things that grew in the Factor's garden."

"Where is Francois?" queried the King.

"At Red Stone Brook--he and The Boy. I had breakfast with them."

"Renegade!" sneered Carcajou.

"And Francois says they will stay here all Winter and kill fur. There are three big Bear Traps in the outfit--I saw them, Muskwa; what think you? Great steel jaws to them, with hungry teeth. They would crack the leg of a Moose, even a Buffalo; and there are Number Four Traps for Umisk and Nekik; and smaller ones for you, Mister Marten--many of them. Oh, my! but it's nice to have an eight-dollar coat. All the Thief-trappers in the land covet it.

"And Francois has an Ironstick, and The Boy has an Ironstick, and there will be great sport here all Winter. That's what Francois said, and I think it is true--not that a Half-breed sticks to the truth over-close."

The Hunt-fear settled over the gathering. No one had heart even to check the spiteful gibes of their feathered Clerk. The Law of the Boundaries, and the suspicious evidence of its violation that pointed to Lynx, were forgotten--which was, perhaps, a good thing for that unprincipled poacher.

Black King was first to break the fear-silence.

"Subjects, draw close, for already it has come to us that we have need of all our wisdom, and all our loyalty one to another, and the full strength of our laws."

Silently they bunched up; then he proceeded:--

"Francois is a great Hunter. He has the cunning of Wolverine, the strength of Muskwa, the speed of mine own people, and the endurance of Mooswa. Besides, there are the Traps, and the Ironstick; and Snares made from Deer-sinew and Cod-line. The soft strong cord which Man weaves. Also will this Evil Slayer, who is but a vile Half-breed, have the White Powder of Death in a tiny bottle--such a small bottle, and yet holding enough Devil-medicine to slay every Dweller in the Boundaries."

"That it will, Your Majesty," confirmed Jack; "and it kills while you breathe thrice--so, If-f-h, if-f-h, if-f-h! and you fall--your legs kick out stiff, and you are dead. I've seen it do its terrible work."

"Just so," assented Black King. "The use of that is against Man's law, even; but Francois cares not, so be it the Red-coats know not of its use. Now must we take an oath to help one the other, if we prefer not to have our coats nailed on the Hunt-Man's Shack walls, or stretched on the wedge-boards he uses for the hides of Otter, and Mink, and Fisher, and myself. Even Muskrat and Pisew go on a wedge-board when they are skinned. You, Beaver, and Muskwa, and Mooswa have your skins stretched by iron thorns on the side of a Shack.

"Now take we the oath?" he asked, looking from one to the other.

A murmur of eager assent started with the deep bass of Blue Wolf and died away in the plaintive treble of Wapoos.

"Then, listen and repeat with me," he commanded.

THE OATH OF THE BOUNDARIES.

"'We, Dwellers within the Boundaries, swear by the Spirit of Wiesahkechack, who is God of the Indians and all Animals, that, come Trap, come Ironstick, come White-powdered Bait, come Snare, come Arrow, come what soe'er may, we will help each other, and warn each other, and keep ward for each other; in the Star-time and the Sun-time, in the Flower-time and the Snow-time; that the call of one for help shall be the call of all; and the fight of one shall be the fight of all; and the enemy of one shall be the enemy of all.

"'By the Mark that is on the tail of each of us, we swear this. By the White Tip that is on the tail of Fox; by the Black Gloss that is on the tail of Marten; by the Perfume that is on the tail of Sikak; by the great, bushy tail of Blue Wolf, and the short tail of Bear; the broad, hairless tail of Beaver, and the strong tapered tail of Otter; by the Kink that is in the tail of Mink; by the much-haired tail of Fisher; the white Cotton-tail of Rabbit, the fawn-coloured tail of Mooswa, and the Bob-tail of Lynx; by the feathered tail of Whisky-Jack: and all others according to their Tail-mark, we swear it.'"

"Now," said Black King, "Francois will have his work cut out, for we are many against one."

"You forget The Boy, Your Majesty," interrupted Carcajou.

"Oh, he doesn't count," cried Jack, disdainfully. "He's a Moneas--which means a greenhorn. He's new to the Forest--has lived where the paths of Man are more plentiful than the Run-ways in Wapoos's Muskeg.

"Of course, personally, I don't mind their coming--like it; it means free food without far flying. Oh, but The Boy is a wasteful greenhorn. When he fried the white fat-meat, which is from the animal that dwells with Man, the Hog, he poured the juice out on the leaves, and the cold turned it into food like butter--white butter. Such rich living will make my voice soft. The Man-cub has a voice like mine--full of rich, sweet notes. Did any of you ever hear a Man or Man-cub sing 'Down upon the Suwanee River'? That's what The Boy sang this morning. But I don't know that river--it's not about here; and in my time I have flown far and wide over more broad streams than I have toes to my feet."

"Be still, empty-head!" cried the King, angrily. "You chatter as though the saving of our lives were good fun. Brother Carcajou, Francois needs no help. For five years he has followed me for my Black Coat--for five Winters I have eluded his Traps, and his Baits, and the cough of his Ironstick. But one never knows when the evil day is to come. Last Winter Francois trapped on Hay River. I was there; as you know, it is a great place for Black Currants."

"Do you eat the bitter, sour Berries, Your Majesty?" queried Marten.

"No, Silly; except for the flavour of them that is in the flesh of Gay Cock, the Pheasant. But it is in every child's book of the Fox tribe, that where Berries are thick, the Birds are many."

"How comes Francois here to the Pelican this year, then?" growled Blue Wolf.

"Because of the thing Men call Fate," answered Black King, learnedly; "though they do not understand the shape of it. We call it the Whisper of Wiesahkechack. Wiesahke whispered to me that because of the fire there were no Berries at Hay River, that the Birds had all come to the Pelican; and I have no doubt that He, who is the King of evil Mischief Makers, has also talked in thought-words to Francois, that here is much fur to be had for the killing."

"I should like to see Francois," exclaimed Nekik, the Otter.

"And The Boy!" suggested Mooswa. "It's years since I saw a Man-cub."

"W-h-e-u-f-f-!" ejaculated Muskwa. "I saw a Man once--Nichemous. Did I tell you about--"

"Save me from Owls!" interrupted Whisky-Jack; "that's your stock-story, old Squeaky Nose. I've heard it fifty times in the last two years."

The Bear stood rocking his big body back and forth while the saucy bird chattered.

"But I should like to see more of Man," he continued, when Jay had finished. "Tell me, Jack, do they always walk on their hind-legs--or only when they are going to kill or fight--as I do? I think we must be cousins," he went on, meditatively.

"You ought to be ashamed of it, then!" snapped the Bird.

"They leave a trail just like mine," proceeded Muskwa, paying no attention to the Jay. "I once saw a Man's track on the mud bank of the river; I could have sworn it was one of my family had passed--a long foot-print with a heel."

"Perhaps it was your own track--you are so terribly stupid at times," suggested Jack.

"You might have made that mistake," retorted Muskwa, "for you can't scent; but when I investigated with my nose, I knew that it was Man. There was the same horrible smell that came to me once as two of these creatures passed down the river in a canoe, whilst I was eating Berries by the water's edge. But you spend most of your time begging a living from these Men, Jack--tell me if they generally walk as I do, on all fours?"

"Long ago they did, Muskwa; when their brains were small, like yours. Then they developed, and got more sense, and learned to balance themselves on their hind-legs."

"What's the use of having four legs and only using two?" grunted Bear, with a dissatisfied air.

"You'll find out, my Fat Friend, if you come within range of the Ironstick--what did Nichemous try to do? After that you won't ask silly questions, for Francois will take your skin, dry it in the sun, and put your brainless head on a tree as a Medicine Offering to the Hunt Spirit; and he'll take your big carcass home, and The Boy will help him eat it. Don't bother me about Man--if you want to know his ways, come and see for yourself."

"I'd like to, Clerk," answered Bear, humbly.

"They're going to build a house," asserted Whisky-Jack.

"A lodge!" exclaimed Beaver. "Oh, I must see that."

"What say you, Black King?" queried Carcajou. "May we all go to-morrow, and see this Trapper and The Boy--think you it's safe?"

"Better now than when the Traps are set and Firestick loaded."

So they arranged amongst themselves to go at dawn the next day, and watch from the bush Francois and Roderick.

Then the meeting broke up.

THE BUILDING OF THE SHACK

Next morning, just as the gray oncoming Day was rolling back into the Forest depths the Night curtain, Muskwa, who was swinging along leisurely, with a walk like a Blue-Jacket, towards the Trapper's Camp, discovered Wapoos sitting in his path.

"A snareless runway to you, Little Brother! Are you heading for the Shack?"

"Yes," bleated Wapoos; "I'm still weak from the Seventh Year sickness, and hop badly, I fear."

"Jump up, Afflicted One, your furry stomach will feel warm on my back,--Huh! huh! this beastly fog that comes up from the waters of the Athabasca to battle with the sunlight gets into my lungs. I shall soon have to creep into a warm nest for my long sleep."

"Hast seen any of our Comrades?" queried Wapoos, as he lay in the velvet cushion of black fur that was a good four inches deep on Bear's back.

"I heard Rof's hoarse bay as he called across the Pelican to some one. Here is Nekik's trail, where his belly has scraped all the mud spots."

"Aren't we a funny lot?" giggled Wapoos. "Mooswa's legs are like the posts of Man's cache--so long; and Otter's are like the knots on a tree--too short. See! there goes Black King and his red-headed Mother."

"That is the queerest outfit in the Boundaries," chuckled Muskwa. "The Widow is red, and three of the Sons; the Babe, Stripes, is brown, with a dark cross on his back; while the King is as black as my Daddy was. Sweet Honey! but his coat was beautiful--like the inside of a hole on a pitch-dark night. There is a family of Half-breeds up at The Landing just like the Widow's lot. Some are red-haired, some are brown, and some are black. I saw them once Fishing at Duck Lake."

"Did they see you, Muskwa?"

"Am I not here, Little Brother--therefore their eyes were busy with the Fish. Wu-u-f-f! I catch the scent of Man. Jump down, Wapoos; push through the Willows and tell me what thou seest."

Bear sat on his haunches and waited.

"There's a white lodge," reported Rabbit, as he hopped back, "and inside is a throat-call that is not of our Comrades."

"That's Man's tepee; most like it was The Boy's song your big ears heard."

They went forward gingerly, Wapoos acting as pilot. In a little open space where Red Stone Brook emptied into the Athabasca was a small "A" tent. The two comrades lay down in the willows to watch. Soon they were joined by Black King; Otter was already there. Then came Blue Wolf and Mooswa. As Carcajou joined them, Whisky-Jack fluttered into the centre of the party.

"That's a Tent," he said, with the air of a courier explaining sights to a party of tourists. "The Boy is putting on his fur. Do you hear his song-cry?"

"He hath a full stomach," growled Rof, "for his voice is rich in content. What is the cry, Bird of Knowledge?"

"It's a song of my Crow Cousins. I'll repeat a line for your fur-filled ears:--

"'There were three crows sat on a tree, And they were black as crows could be; Said one of them unto his mate, Let's catch old Carcajou to ate!'"

"All of a kind flock together," retorted Wolverine; "Birds, and Boys, and Fools!"

Jack chuckled. To have roused Carcajou's anger was something to start the day with.

"Plenty of Water to you all, Comrades," greeted Beaver pleasantly, patting a smooth seat for himself with his tail, as he joined the others.

"Where is the Man?" queried Black King.

"Sleeping!" answered Jack. "He makes a noise with his nose like fat Muskwa does when he runs from Grizzly."

"That's a pretty lodge," remarked Beaver, critically. "When will they flood it?"

"Stupid! they don't live in water," reproved Jay. "If it is wet they make a little hollow path and run the water off."

"Is that a Dead-fall, Jack?" asked Muskwa, pointing his gray nozzle at a small square building that was three logs high.

"It's their Shack; they started it yesterday."

"A poor Lodge!" declared Umisk. "The first flood will undermine the corners, and down it will come. Have they no trowel-tails to round it up with good blue-clay?"

"Umisk, you should travel. Your ideas are limited. Have they not built their Shack on high ground where there will be no flood?"

"But they'll freeze in the Winter," persisted Beaver. "The water would keep them warm if they flooded it."

"They've got a stove," the Courier answered.

"What's a stove?" asked Lynx.

"You'll find out, Mister Cat, when they make bouillon of your ribs. It's that iron-thing with one long ear."

"Is that their breakfast--that pile of wood-meat?" queried Beaver.

"Yes, meat for the stove," piped Jack. "Do you think they have teeth like a wood-axe and eat bark because you do?"

"They have queer teeth, sure enough," retorted Trowel Tail. "See this tree stump, cut flat from two sides, all full of notches, as though a Kit-Beaver who didn't know his business had nibbled it down. How in the name of Good Dams they can fell trees into a stream that way I can't make out. This tree fell on land and they had to carry the logs. They're silly creatures and have much to learn."

"There's The Boy!" whispered Jack, nudging Muskwa in the ribs with his wing.

They all peered eagerly at the door of the tent, for a white-skinned hand was unlacing it. Then a fair face, with rosy cheeks, topped by a mass of yellow hair, was thrust through the opening, and presently a lad of fourteen stepped out, stretched his arms upward, and commenced whistling like a bird.

"That's the Boy-call," said Black King, in a soft voice. "Listen, Comrades, so that we may know it. Francois gives voice to the Man-call: 'Hi, yi! hi, yi! E-e-e-g-o-o-o-!' which means, in their talk, 'Hear! hear! it is I--I--A Man!' That is because they claim to be Lords of all the Animal Kingdom, even as I am Ruler in our own Boundaries."

"What a lovely Pup!" cried the Red Widow, enthusiastically; "he's got yellow hair just like my Babe--look, Stripes! Plump Birds! but I wish I had him in my litter."

"'Pup,' indeed!" exclaimed Whisky-Jack, indignantly. "A Man-Boy called 'Pup,' by a frowsy old Fox Widow."

"Clerk!" interrupted Black King, angrily.

"Francois! Francois!" called The Boy, putting his face inside the tent; "the sun is up, the fog is gone, and I'm as hungry as a Wolf."

Rof started. "Gur-r-r-! how does the Cub know my stomach is lean because of the Seventh Year famine?"

A pair of sharp, black eyes gleamed from the tent flap. They belonged to the Half-breed Trapper, Francois.

"Move back, Brothers, a little into the Willows," whispered Black King; "he has Devil-eyes, like Wolverine."

"His Majesty flatters you, Carcajou," sneered Whisky-Jack.

Francois came out, took his axe, and made some shavings from a Jack-pine stick.

"Will they eat that?" asked Beaver.