CHAPTER XIV

A FIGHT WITH A WOLVERINE

The whole party had lost much of their interest in the hunt, and it was decided to return to Fort Pitt without delay. They went into camp for the night at the spot the enemy had occupied.

“It is going to be cold to-night,” said Tony Jadwin, and his words proved true. A keen, penetrating wind started up, and they were glad enough to crouch as close to the fire as possible.

After an early breakfast they started for the fort by another trail. On this they were fortunate enough to come across three deer, caught in something of a hollow between the rocks. Henry brought one of the animals down and the frontiersmen shot the others. Later on Dave got a shot at some partridges and brought down two that were plump and tender.

“Well, we shall not go back empty-handed,” said James Morris.

When they reached the fort they found the garrison on strict guard duty. A report had come in from the northward that some of the Six Nations were not going to agree on peace, but were marching to reduce the stronghold. The report was false, but it kept those at Fort Pitt on the watch for a week.

Captain Ecuyer listened to James Morris’s story with interest, and when Colonel Bouquet came in he did the same.

“I do not see what can be done at present,” said the commandant of the fort. “I cannot send any men out to your trading post this winter. It may be that we can do something in the spring.”

This was what Colonel Bouquet said also, and the trader had to accept it as final. But the delay chafed him.

“I have an idea of making my way to the post,” said he to his son. “I know it will not be a very nice trip at this time of year, but I would like to arrive there before Jean Bevoir has a chance to settle down and make himself at home.”

“If you go of course you will take me along,” returned Dave, instantly.

“No, I was thinking of taking only two or three of the old trappers. You see, if we cannot get into the post we shall have to stay in the forest and get our living as best we can, and that will be hard,—if the winter proves a severe one.”

The matter was talked over for a week, but nothing came of it just then. But at the end of the next week James Morris arranged to go west, taking Tony Jadwin, Peaceful Jones, and a trapper named Pomeroy with him. They elected to go on foot, taking some snowshoes with them. Each was to carry a good stock of provisions and also plenty of ammunition.

“If we get into the post and have no further trouble, I will send Pomeroy back with the news and also with a letter of instructions,” said James Morris.

“And supposing you can’t get into the post?” said Dave.

“Then we may stay in that vicinity, or we may come back—just as I think best.”

“But you will send some kind of word, won’t you?” inquired Henry.

“Yes, I will send word of some kind before the New Year,” answered his uncle.

The two youths saw the expedition well on its way, going out with it a distance of three miles. Then came an affectionate parting, and those moving to the west were lost to view down the snowy forest trail.

“I wish I was going along,” said Dave, with a deep sigh.

“The same here, Dave,” answered his cousin. “But your father did not wish it, and so we shall have to stay at the fort. I hope all goes well with them.”

“Yes, I shouldn’t wish father to fall into the clutches of Jean Bevoir. Oh, how I despise that rascal!”

The youths had decided to try a bit of hunting while they were out. Henry led the way into the forest, and they wandered along until they came to the tracks of some wild animal.

“What is it?” asked Dave.

“It stumps me,” answered his cousin. “It is certain not the track of a deer.”

“Maybe it’s a bear, or a buffalo.”

“I don’t think so. But whatever it is, it was carrying something in its mouth.”

“How do you know that?”

“Don’t you see the occasional dip in the snow alongside of the trail? The load was heavy and sagged down at times.”

“Shall we follow the trail up?”

“I’m willing.”

The trail led into the very depths of the great forest, and to help them from getting lost they broke off the bushes here and there, thus “blazing” the trail as they proceeded. In the open spaces the wind had drifted the snow quite a little, but where the trail led the walking proved fairly easy.

“The animal certainly traveled a good distance,” remarked Dave, after almost a mile had been covered.

“We are coming to the end now,” answered Henry, whose keen eyes took in every detail of the trail.

“How do you know that?”

“Don’t you see how the dips increase? That shows the load was growing heavier. The steps are shorter too.”

“Henry, it’s wonderful how you notice such things!”

“Not at all. I only keep my eyes open, that’s all. Now we had better keep quiet, or we may scare the game away.”

After that they proceeded a short distance further. Then they reached a clearing, where the heavy wind of the summer previous had cut down several of the tallest trees.

“There must have been a whirlwind here,” whispered Dave.

“Hush, the trail leads under that mass of piled-up trees,” returned Henry. “Got your gun ready?”

“Yes.”

Dave had hardly spoken when there came a snarl from under the mass of trees, and looking down both young hunters saw a pair of gleaming eyes glaring hatefully at them.

“It’s a bear!” cried Dave.

“No, a wolverine!” burst out Henry. “And an ugly one, too. Look out for yourself.”

Henry was indeed right; it was a wolverine they had trailed to its lair—a ferocious beast, sometimes known as a glutton, because of its enormous appetite for meat. The wolverine was of unusual size, with a shaggy body of brownish-black. The muzzle was darker than the rest of the beast, and under the throat were several whitish spots. The upper lip hairs were long and coarse, and the fangs keener than those of a wolf.

The wolverine had been feasting on the carcass of a fox, but the meal had evidently not sweetened his temper. Suddenly he turned and disappeared from view along the tree-branches.

“He has gone,” said Dave.

“Keep your eyes open!” shouted Henry. “He means fight! I know the kind!”

A moment passed and the wolverine reappeared, this time on an upper limb of a fallen tree. He gave one low snarl and then sprang directly for Dave’s throat.

Crack! It was Henry’s rifle that spoke up. The aim was a hasty one, and the wolverine was hit in the hind quarters. Dave slipped to one side, and the beast landed at his feet. Then Dave stepped back, to get a shot, but the beast whirled around in the snow and once more gained the shelter of his lair.

The two young hunters lost no time in retreating, but Henry kept Dave from going too close to any bushes in the vicinity.

“You can’t trust a wolverine,” he said. “Load up quick—and keep your eyes wide open. He may be at our backs next.”

Dave was well aware of their danger. He had heard of a hunter being killed by a wolverine and heard Sam Barringford say that the beast was the most treacherous of animals. If cornered a wolverine will often fight to the death, no matter what the odds. It has been known to attack animals much larger than itself.

The two young hunters reloaded with speed and kept their eyes on the fallen trees. They saw a branch move, but could not see the wolverine. Dave, it must be confessed, began to grow a trifle nervous.

“Do you see him?” he asked, after fully a minute had passed.

“No, but—— There he is! Look out!”

The wolverine had appeared on one of the highest of the tree-branches. He made a lightning-like leap and gained one of the neighboring trees. Dave took a quick shot, but missed his mark. Then the body of the wolverine was hidden by the broad tree-limb.

“Let us get out of this,” said Dave. “Before we know it, one of us will get hurt.”

“I am going to kill that wolverine,” answered Henry, determinedly, all his hunting instinct on edge over what had already occurred.

“What’s the use? He is no good for meat.”

“The beast is not going to get the better of me.”

Henry walked around the tree with care. He got a slight glimpse of the wolverine’s bushy tail, but that was all.

“Can you see him, Henry?”

“I know where he is. I think I can make him move.”

Henry picked up some snow, made a snowball, and threw it at the bushy tail. There was a snarl and a snap, and down into the snow leaped the wolverine, all ready for a fight.

As soon as the beast landed Dave fired. As luck would have it, the wolverine was hit in the side and turned over and over, sending the snow in all directions.

“I’ve got him! I’ve got him!” called out the young hunter, excitedly.

“I reckon I’d better finish him,” answered Henry, and once again his rifle spoke up. At once the whirling of the wolverine ceased, and he stretched himself out on the snow.

“My gracious! that was a fight,” observed Dave, wiping the cold perspiration from his forehead. “I don’t wonder some folks think there is nothing so savage as a wolverine.”

“We want to be on guard still,” said Henry. “Load up. His mate may be around here, and they say a she-wolverine is ten times worse than a he-one.”

“She’ll certainly be bad enough when she learns that we have killed her mate.”

“We may as well give up hunting around here,” went on Henry. “Our shots have probably scared away any deer that may be in this vicinity.”

“We can look for small game, Henry. I don’t want to go back empty-handed.”

“Listen!”

The two young hunters were reloading, when Henry uttered the exclamation.

“What did you hear?” asked Dave.

“Sounded to me like a wolf, and it was pretty close too.”

“I hope we don’t meet any wolves in this forest!” cried Dave.

Both listened, and soon heard three more wolves. They were coming along the trail made by the wolverine and the youths.

“I see them! And they are coming directly for us!” cried Dave, a minute later, and as he spoke eight or nine wolves burst into view, coming forward on a run, their eyes gleaming and their fangs showing viciously.