winter—wolves—a night’s trapping—a retreat—in the teeth of the north wind—the carcajou—a miss and a hit—news of indians—danger ahead—a friendly storm—the hut again.
the next morning, plain and thicket, hill and lake, lay wrapt in a white mantle. the storm had sunk to calm, the snow had ceased, but winter was on all the land, no more to leave it until the winds and showers of spring should come from the south to chase him back into his northern home. it was piercingly cold when we issued from the tent to begin the day’s work. the cold was different from anything i had yet experienced. the slightest touch of metal sufficed instantly to freeze the fingers. a gun-barrel, the buckle of a girth, the iron of a bit, struck so deadly cold upon the hands, that i found it was only by running to the embers of the fire, and holding my fingers for a moment in the blaze that i could restore them to working power.
red cloud and the assineboine appeared, however, to take slight notice of this great cold. the work was done as usual, quickly and neatly; packs and saddles were arranged, the two spare horses were got ready to bring back[178] the buffalo killed on the previous evening, and in a very short time our little party trooped out from the sheltering thicket into the great prairie.
all was now a dazzling sheet of most intense white. the clouds had cleared away, and the sun shone out, making the vast surface glisten as though millions of diamonds had been scattered over it. the snow was not yet deep upon the prairie; the wind of the preceding night had driven it into the hollows, or flattened it down amid the grass, so that the horses were able to make their way along.
about two hours’ ride brought us in sight of the dead buffalo. it was visible a long way off, showing very dark upon the white surface of the plain. the scene around it was a curious one. fully a score of wolves were circling and dodging around the carcase, some looking anxiously at the longed-for meat, others sitting farther away, as though they had determined to await the discoveries of their more venturesome comrades ere they would approach the dead animal.
red cloud looked at them for some time.
“there are a good many warm skins,” he said, “in that lot, and they are easily carried compared with the skin of those buffalo cows we shot yesterday. if we had a few of those wolf robes, we could make our winter beds warm enough in the hut at the forks.”
he thought a moment, and then continued,—
“there are so many wolves here that it would be worth while to camp near this to-night and trap some of them. we will take two loads of meat back to the camp at the lake, then return here, bringing with us the tent, and wood sufficient for the night. we will fetch hither all the traps we have with us, and then see if we cannot catch some of these white and grey wolves.”
we had now reached the buffalo, and the work of skinning and cutting up went on apace. soon light loads for the horses were ready, and i and the scout set out for the lake, leaving the sioux to keep watch over the carcase.
when we had departed, the sioux set to work to outwit the cunning wolves, who still lurked around, hiding behind the hillock, and looking every now and again over the sky-line of a hill to watch their much-coveted food.
noticing that a small ravine ran curving through the prairie within easy rifle-shot of the dead buffalo, he followed our tracks for some distance, until reaching a depression in the ground, he turned aside into it; then bending down so as to be completely hidden from the wolves, he gained the ravine at a considerable distance from where the buffalo lay. following the many windings of this coulee, he reached at last the neighbourhood of the animal. he did not need to look up above the ledge of the ravine, because ere he set out upon his stalk he had marked a tuft of tall dry grass which grew at the curve which was nearest the buffalo, and[180] now keeping the bottom of the ravine, he saw this tuft appear in view as he rounded a bend in the hollow. looking cautiously up from the base of the dry tuft, he saw, about a hundred yards distant, several wolves busily engaged at tearing at the hide and legs yet remaining of the buffalo. singling out the largest wolf, he took a quick but steady aim, and as the report rang out, he saw the wolf spring into the air and fall dead beside the buffalo carcase. a second shot, fired as the other wolves galloped rapidly away, was not so successful. the bullet cut the snow beneath their feet, and in another few seconds they were out of range.
when we again appeared upon the scene, bringing the tent and traps, we found a magnificent wolf’s skin added to our stock of winter goods.
pitching the leather lodge in the shelter of the ravine, all was made comfortable against the night. the spare horses had been left at the old camping-place, and only those ridden by the hunters had been brought to this exposed place.
just before nightfall the sioux set his traps in a circle round the spot where the buffalo lay. i watched with interest the precautions by which he hoped to baffle the cunning of the wolves. to the chain of each trap a heavy stick was attached. this weight would prevent the wolf dragging the trap any considerable distance; but both the trap and the[181] stick had to be concealed in the snow, and care taken to prevent the fine powdery snow drifting in underneath the plate, so as to allow the pressure of an animal’s foot to spring the trap.
the circle of traps was soon complete, and just at dusk we were all ensconced within our lodge, busily preparing the evening meal.
“about an hour after dark the wolves will grow bold,” said the sioux. “they are circling round now, but they are too cautious to go near just at first. we will go round the traps when supper is done, and again before we turn in for the night.”
when supper was finished, we crept out of the lodge and went to visit the traps. the night was intensely cold; the stars were shining with wonderful brilliancy over the vast white prairie. the first trap we approached held nothing,—and so on until we reached the fourth. here we saw a dark object struggling hard in the snow. as we drew nearer to it i was able to distinguish an animal closely resembling a huge grey dog. the sioux had brought with him a stout pole four feet in length. coming close to the wolf he struck him a violent blow with this pole, killing him instantly. then he re-set the trap, and dragging the dead wolf along, we proceeded to finish our round. all the other traps were empty. but two hours later, when another visit was made, a coyote and a kit fox were found, so that the stock of winter skins[182] began to increase rapidly.
another wolf was captured during the night; but when morning came we found that he had succeeded in dragging the trap, and the stick to which it was attached, a long way over the prairie. it was the trap which had been set by me.
“curious,” said i. “the wolf caught last night was just able to move the trap, and now this one carries trap and stick far over the prairie. he must be a stronger wolf than the first one.”
“no,” replied the sioux. “but do you see the track that the stick has made in the snow? does it not run straight, end on, after the wolf?”
i noticed that it did so.
“well,” said red cloud, “that is because you did not select the exact centre of the stick in which to place the chain. the consequence is that one end of the stick is heavier than the other. this heavy end trails after the chain, so that the wolf has less difficulty in dragging it along. it glides over the snow easily, whereas when both ends of the stick are evenly balanced, it lies across the animal’s line of flight. that is the reason why this wolf has got away so far. but we will reach him yet.”
following rapidly along, we overtook the trapped animal in the bottom of a coulee, in the soft snow of which he could not make much way. he was quickly despatched, and dragged back to the tent, his skin to be added to those[183] already taken.
the weather was now so intensely cold that red cloud began to fear the horses would be unable to drag the load of meat back to the forks. there was meat fully sufficient to load the three sleds we had brought to their utmost capacity. fortunately the spare horses had had an easy time of it up to the present. they were still in fair condition; but the riding horses already showed signs of feeling the terrible severity of these exposed treeless plains, and to delay the return to the forks longer than was absolutely necessary, would only be to imperil the lives of the most valuable animals possessed by us.
accordingly the lodge was struck, and the retreat to the hut at the forks began.
during four days our line of sleds and men toiled slowly over the treeless waste, dark specs upon a waste of white. the north wind blew with merciless rigour. sometimes the air was still, and the sun shone; but at other times terrible storms swept the wild landscape, whirling powdery snow over hills and ravines. with downbent heads men and horses plodded on; at night the lodge was pitched in some coulee for better shelter, and in the early morning so black and cold and desolate looked all visible nature, that i used to long to be again in the tent. still i struggled hard to keep a bold front before my indian comrades; they did not complain, why should i? one good thing was, we had plenty of buffalo[184] meat, and we could be fairly warm at night by lying close together in the “lodge.”
at last, on the fifth day, the wood at les trois arbres was reached, and piling on the firewood, that night the tent was made warm and comfortable.
the poor horses were now very weak. on the treeless plains the grass had been short and covered in many places with snow; but in the thickets wild vetch and pea grew, twining, through the brushwood, and these succulent grasses, sweetened by the frost, were eagerly sought for by the hungry steeds. it was decided to give a day’s rest here, for the worst portion of the journey was now over. accordingly the lodge was pitched in a sheltered spot amid thickets, and the horses turned adrift in what at this season of the year was good pasturage.
the next day we spent in a long hunt on foot amid the thickets and open prairies. the “poire” tree grew in many places amid the aspen groves, and the indians declared that where the poire flourished there the bear was to be found—so our hunt this day was to the sleeping-place of the bear. when the last berry has disappeared, and the first snow has come, bruin begins to bethink himself of seeking a place wherein he can sleep away the long winter months.
beneath the trunk of a fallen tree, under a rock, oftentimes on the level ground of aspen or poplar thicket, he digs his hole. when it is deep enough to hold his fat body he[185] backs into it, and placing his nose between his fore paws goes fast asleep. sometimes the sleep is for four or five months duration; but at other times, when the sun comes out warm and bright in mid-winter, he will crawl forth from his burrow, roam a little way around, and then retire again into his den. it is no easy matter to find his nest. like all wild things he selects his place of rest with an eye to security; but hide it as he may, the indian’s sharp eye pierces through all disguises, and in the time before the snow has fallen deep enough to cover tree stumps and hollow in one undistinguishably level of white, the couch which bruin has made with so much care for his winter’s sleep becomes his death-bed ere his first doze has well begun.
red cloud and i took one direction, the scout set off in another. the day was calm and fine; scarcely a breath of wind stirred over the prairie, and the rays of the sun fell brightly upon the snowy surface, through which the yellow grass still showed in many places. dressed in a light leather shirt, and indian leggings and moccasins to match, i stepped briskly along, following in the footsteps of the sioux. in and out of aspen thickets, over open patches of prairie land, along the tops of small ridges quite bare of snow, the indian held his way with rapid stride. at length we emerged upon the edge of a deep coulee. in the bottom of this ravine a few pools of frozen water were visible. the sides of the ravine were steep, but in the bottom the ground[186] was level; some stunted bushes grew at intervals along it. as we stood on the sharp edge of the prairie looking down this depression, the eye of the indian suddenly caught sight of a moving object some distance away to his right. it was an animal that had plunged over the edge and quickly disappeared in the valley. before many seconds had elapsed a second object crossed over the ridge and dived into the coulee. the indian exclaimed, “lie down, it is a carcajou; he is hunting a deer. the deer will follow the coulee, and will pass right beneath where we stand; we should get them both.” we lay flat upon the prairie edge with rifles ready. presently along the bottom of the gorge appeared a large jumping moose. he was evidently sorely pressed by his pursuer, who, only about fifty yards behind, came along at that slouching gallop peculiar to his species. red cloud whispered to me, “fire as the deer passes. aim in front, and low, for it is down hill. i’ll take the carcajou.” my heart beat fast; the distance was under seventy yards, but the pace was good. a shot rang out. “missed,” cried the sioux as the deer went bounding by. quick as thought i pulled again, this time aiming well in front and very low. the deer staggered—fell—rose again to his feet, and then plunged over upon his side, dead. meantime the wolverine was coming along at a tremendous pace. all at once a shot rang out in front; then another. his pace was too rapid to be checked in an instant; but the reports from[187] the ridge to his left caused him to swerve from the bottom of the coulee, and to ascend the bank nearly opposite the spot where we lay. as he went up the steep bank he presented a beautiful mark to the indian’s rifle. for an instant the weapon followed the upward course of the animal, then it poured forth its unerring fire. the carcajou staggered in his gallop, and slipped back a short way down the steep hill side; then he recovered himself, and began again to ascend. but now a second report rang out, and, shot quite dead, the beast rolled down the shingly side, and lay still, within a few yards of the deer he had followed to the death.
my first shot had not allowed sufficiently for the depth of the coulee; the bullet had just gone over the deer’s back, but the second had passed clean through the animal’s ribs.
and now to carry the game home to camp. it was no easy matter; the sioux, however, proved himself, as usual, fully equal to the difficulty.
in a very short time he had skinned both the animals. the flesh of the wolverine was useless, but the skin was a very fine one.
when the skin of the deer was removed, it was placed upon the snow, with the side that had been next the body of the animal turned downwards upon the ground. then the venison was packed upon the hairy side, and the ends of the skin wrapped over it to prevent the pieces falling off; then to the two fore-legs of the skin the sioux fastened the[188] string of leather called “shagganappi,” which he always carried with him, and passing the band of the line round his shoulders, he drew the load of meat easily over the snow. we followed the coulee for some distance, until coming to a spot where the bank was less abrupt, we were able to draw the load to the level of the prairie; then trudging along over snow and grass, we arrived at the lodge ere yet the winter’s sun had touched the horizon.
it was still later when the scout returned. he had much to say about his day’s work. soon after setting out in the morning he had struck the trail of a moose, and had followed it for a long distance. the moose had travelled far, and ere the day was half done the scout found himself a long way from camp. still he persisted in keeping the trail. at last he beheld a sight that made him think of other things besides his game. from a ridge over which the trail led, he espied some indian lodges pitched on the edge of the woods. the hunter instantly became the brave; he approached the neighbourhood of the tents with the utmost caution. he waited long enough until he discovered the tribe to which the indians belonged; then he returned with all speed to tell his tidings to his comrades. the band, he said, belonged to the cree tribe; they were trapping and hunting in the vicinity of the elbow of the south saskatchewan, and had now been here for some days. this was bad news for us. we had hoped that our winter hut at the[189] forks would remain unknown to any indians; and now this band of crees were close upon us. unless a fall of snow would quickly come, our homeward trail to the hut must be struck by some cree brave in the next few days, and once struck it was sure to be followed. the crees were not hostile, but that was a fact upon which we could not long count. besides, the news of the existence of a hut at that point would soon spread among the tribe, and other indians would hear of it before the winter was over. mischief might easily come from it. we must endeavour to hide our trail by some stratagem.
for hours that evening the sioux sat silently before the tent fire, buried in deep thought. a snow-storm would have put an end to all his difficulties; but the night looked fine and clear, the stars were shining over the prairie, the yellow lustre of the sunset still hung in the western sky.
it was possible to branch away at right angles from our present line, and to continue that course until the weather changed, and then to resume the old direction and make straight for the hut; but that would entail much extra marching upon the horses already thin and weak, and would probably lead to the loss of some of them. under all circumstances the best course to adopt seemed to be to remain camped in the neighbourhood until a change of weather would obliterate the trail. accordingly next morning a move was made a few miles further away from the crees, and[190] camp was again pitched in a spot not likely to catch the eye of any roving indian.
the next night brought a change in the weather; the wind began to rise, clouds came drifting up from the north-east, and ere midnight came the snow was falling over the plain. we were ready for it; the horses had all been driven in at nightfall; the sleds got ready for the march. by the light of the fire the tent was struck and packed, and long ere morning began to break upon the driving scene of snow and storm our little cavalcade was far away on its march to the hut. all day the storm blew, the snow fell; and all day too, red cloud led the march through blinding drift, and small chance was there of keenest eyes ever finding our trail. the wind blew the surface of the snow before it, quickly filling every cavity, and piling up the fine drift in dazzling heaps. we carried on all day, and camp was only made long after nightfall, when many a mile of snow-clad wilderness lay between us and the crees.
another day’s march brought us within sight of the pine-bluff at the forks, and that night the tired horses were turned adrift in the sheltered meadow by the river, and we lay down to rest in the hut at the pascopee.
