XVI
CHRISTMAS EVE ON THE FUR TRAILS
INDIAN Jake flung the big namaycush into the snow at the tilt door. David and Andy dropped the bag of whitefish by its side, and all, rushing into the tilt, seized their rifles and cartridge bags.
“You lads go up through th’ woods and look for ’em on that side,” directed Indian Jake. “I’ll go up along th’ shore. We’ll be sure to get ’em one side or the other.”
Without a word David and Andy, at a run, but with as little noise as possible, took the direction indicated. Indian Jake, running where he was hidden by brush, stooping low where there was danger that the caribou might see him, followed the ice close to the shore where overhanging brush offered cover to his movements, but where there was firm footing, and he could travel at good speed.
As they neared the place where the caribou had last been seen, the boys moved more cautiously. They stole through the trees without a sound. Their rifles were held ready for instant use.
Suddenly a shot rang out. At the same instant came a sound of crashing bushes, and three caribou burst through the willow brush that lined the lake, and dashed into the forest. David and Andy threw their rifles to their shoulders and fired simultaneously, but with one fleeting glimpse the animals were lost among the thick foliage of the spruce trees.
“They’re gone!” exclaimed David in great disappointment. “We missed un, and we won’t get any of un now!”
“Jake got in one shot,” consoled Andy. “Maybe he knocked one of un down whatever.”
“Let’s have a look where they went through,” suggested David, leading the way.
“What’s that? Did you hear that?” asked Andy, as the sound of a movement came to their ears.
“It’s a deer!” shouted David excitedly, running in the direction the caribou had taken. “We hit un! We knocked one down! See un?”
They had indeed wounded a big caribou. Hidden by the trees it had run for a score of yards before it fell, and had been out of their line of vision until they reached a point where they had a clear view of the trail the fleeing caribou had made in the snow. The caribou was now vainly struggling to regain its feet, and a bullet from David’s rifle was sent to end its suffering.
“A good shot!” said Indian Jake, who had heard the firing and now overtook the boys.
“Did you knock one down too?” asked Andy excitedly.
“No, I made a clean miss of ’em,” Indian Jake confessed. “They got a sniff of us and took fright, and I just took a chance shot. You lads made good shootin’ t’ catch ’em running!”
“We never thought we touched un,” said David “We never has time t’ take fair aim. We just pulls up and lets go.”
“’Twas quick shootin’,” declared Andy. “I wonder which of us hit un—you or me—Davy?”
But they were never to know that, and it mattered little. They had secured fresh meat, which was needed, and that was the chief consideration.
“He’s good and fat,” said David, prodding the carcass with his toe. “He’s like t’ have four fingers o’ fat on his back.”
“And we’ll have deer’s meat for Christmas!” exclaimed Andy.
“We’d better skin him right away, before he freezes,” said Indian Jake, drawing his sheath knife.
With David’s assistance Indian Jake deftly and quickly removed the skin, while Andy hurried to the tilt to fetch an ax and a toboggan. Then they dressed the carcass, cut the meat into convenient pieces, and in less than half an hour were returning to the tilt with an abundant supply of fresh meat, and very well satisfied with the result of their morning’s work.
The meat of the bear which Andy had killed at the time of their arrival had long since been consumed. Of late they had relied upon rabbits and partridges, and, save for a limited stock of pork, were without fat, which is a necessity in the severe climate of the North. As David had said, the caribou was fat, and in splendid condition, and yielded them an abundant store for several weeks.
They were as hungry as wolves when they drew the toboggan load of meat before the tilt door. David kindled a fire at once, while Andy put over the kettle and Indian Jake cut some luscious steaks to fry, and their dinner became a feast.
“Now,” said Andy, “we’ll have meat and fish both for Christmas, but I’ll be missin’ th’ plum duff. I wish we’d brought some currants and then we could have the duff, and as fine a Christmas dinner as ever we has at home.”
“You’re wishin’ for a lot, seems to me,” remarked Indian Jake.
In the afternoon a platform was erected outside, upon which to store the meat and fish. Here the reserve supply would remain frozen until required, and at the same time be safe from the attack of animals. And when they set out upon the trails on Monday morning both Indian Jake and the boys placed liberal pieces of venison upon their toboggans, with which to stock their other tilts.
The following Friday evening David and Andy reached the Narrows tilt in advance of Indian Jake. They had hurried, for this was Christmas eve, and they wished a long evening to talk of those at home. It was to be the first Christmas they had ever spent from home, and all day a picture of the snug, warm cabin at The Jug had been before them as they trudged through the silent, snow-clad wilderness.
It was cold. Their adikys were thickly coated with hoar frost. The fur of the hoods, encircling their faces, was heavy with ice, accumulated moisture from the breath.
Twilight was deepening, and the snow-covered tilt within was dark. David lighted a candle, and the boys picked the ice from their eyelashes—always a painful operation. A handful of birch bark and some split wood had been left ready prepared, and David thrust them into the stove and applied a match. A moment later the fire was roaring cheerfully.
Then they unpacked their toboggan, stowed the things in the tilt, and Andy took his ax and the kettle to their water hole while David with his ax went out to the elevated platform and secured a generous portion of the frozen namaycush. And when presently Andy returned with the kettle of water and David with the fish, the tilt was as warm and comfortable as any one could wish.
“Now,” said David as they removed their adikys, and after shaking the frost from them hung them upon pegs, “we’ll have a fine rest till Monday. We can sleep till daybreak if we wants. There’ll be no workin’ on Christmas, whatever.”
“And we’ll have a fine dinner tomorrow,” Andy appended enthusiastically, “and have all day t’ talk and do as we please.”
“That we will,” said David.
“I wish, now, we had some currants t’ make th’ plum duff like Margaret always makes on Christmas,” said Andy wistfully. “We’ll have a good dinner, but ’twill be no different from what we has every day.”
“We’ve only been havin’ th’ deer’s meat this week, and we never tires of un, and we’ve got plenty t’ eat, whatever,” said David.
“That we has, and ’tis wonderful good!” agreed Andy. “We has a fine snug place t’ rest in, and as fine grub as any one could want, and enough t’ be thankful for. I were just wishin’ for plum duff so’s t’ have somethin’ different on Christmas. But we’re hunters now, and we can’t expect all the fine things we has at home.”
“Plum duff!” the exclamation came from Indian Jake, who had come so silently that the boys had not heard him until at that moment he opened the door. “Plum duff in a huntin’ camp! Ain’t you forgot about plum duff yet? You’ll be wantin’ sweets next!”
“I was just wishin’,” explained Andy.
“They’s no use wishin’ for things can’t be had,” said Indian Jake, pushing back the hood of his adiky and warming his fingers for a moment before going out of doors to unpack his toboggan.
Indian Jake was, to all appearances, in no very good humor. The boys fell silent, while David proceeded to fry a pan of fish. Presently the half-breed returned with his belongings, and stowing them under his bunk he remarked:
“Don’t meddle with un, now.”
After he had hung up his adiky he lighted his pipe and smoked silently, speaking never a word, and seemingly forgetful of the boys’ presence, until David announced:
“Grub’s ready, Jake.”
This was an appealing announcement. The half-breed knocked the ashes from his pipe, helped himself liberally, and at once became more sociable.
“What fur this week?” he asked expectantly, as he ate.
“One marten and one red,” announced David. “How’d you make out, Jake?”
“Not so bad,” said Indian Jake. “Did you fetch th’ marten and red down?”
“Yes, you can see un after supper if you likes,” offered David.
“This is fine fish,” remarked Indian Jake, after a little. “’Twas a fine catch, Andy.”
“Aye, ’twere that!” admitted Andy. “But I never could have got he without you and David helpin’.”
Indian Jake was silent again, and scarcely spoke another word during the whole evening. He examined the marten and fox skins, when David produced them, with an eye of critical appraisement and evident appreciation, but offered no comments. Once or twice, as the boys chatted of home and made an effort to draw him into the conversation, he merely grunted the briefest reply. Indeed it seemed to be his wish to be left to his pipe and his thoughts, undisturbed, and they said no more to him nor he to them.
XVII
INDIAN JAKE’S SURPRISE
DAVID and Andy had agreed to sleep later on Christmas morning. This was to be a day of rest and recreation. Sleeping late meant, to them, until break of day. But Indian Jake arose at the usual early hour, and his movements aroused the boys, and through force of habit they sat up in their bunk.
“No need of you fellers gettin’ up yet unless you want to,” said Indian Jake cheerfully. “I had some things I wanted t’ do, so I got up t’ get un done before breakfast. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready. This is Christmas, you know.”
“Thank you, Jake,” yawned David, snuggling back into his sleeping bag. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll take another snooze, then. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas to both of you!” broke in Andy, who, following David’s example, settled down again into his bag. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll snooze some more, too.”
“The same to you, lads! I’ll call you when I’m through fussin’ around.” The half-breed spoke with unusual heartiness and good nature. It was evident that his mood of silence and sullen indifference of the previous evening had passed, and that he was in an excellent frame of mind.
Indian Jake proceeded at once to put flour into the mixing pan, and to knead a quantity of dough. Then, assuring himself by their heavy breathing that the boys were soundly sleeping, he cautiously drew from beneath his bunk a two-quart covered pail that served him, when on the trail, as a cooking kettle. Lifting the cover, he examined the contents.
“They’re all right,” he said. “They’ll do. They’ve been froze ever since I picked ’em in September.”
He now lay down, side by side, two of the boards used for stretching fox pelts, and cutting a piece of dough from the mass in the mixing pan, he placed it upon the boards, and proceeded to roll it thin with the end of a round, dry stick. This done to his satisfaction, he turned up the edges of the dough on all sides, and poured upon it the contents of the pail, which proved to be cranberries. These he spread evenly over the dough, and rolling it up, placed it in a small bag of cotton cloth which he produced from his kit bag. The bag containing dough and berries, was now deposited in the tin pail, the cover replaced, and the pail set behind the stove.
“The lads’ll never look into that,” he observed, “and she’ll be safe enough there, and won’t get chilled till I wants her.”
He again reached under his bunk and drew forth a package which he had deposited there with the kettle and other personal belongings upon his arrival the previous evening. Looking furtively, to make certain the boys were not awake and observing him, he undid this, and there appeared a big fat goose, all picked and cleaned. He proceeded at once to cut this into sections, which he dropped into the large cooking kettle which was one of the furnishings of the tilt.
“There,” he said, after covering the goose with cold water, putting the lid on the kettle and placing it beside the other, behind the stove, “she’s froze pretty hard, but that’ll draw th’ frost out, and I can set her on when I’m ready, and cook her in the same water.”
Turning then to the dough remaining in the pan, he began to mould it into cakes, and fry it after the usual fashion.
“Plum duff!” he muttered to himself as he placed the frying pan on the stove. “If we’re goin’ t’ keep Christmas we may’s well keep her right, and surprisin’ is a part of keepin’ her. ’Twon’t do any harm t’ surprise ’em, and make ’em feel good. They’ll like me better for it. They like me pretty well now. They brought the fur down, and I didn’t have t’ show ’em what I had. I wonder how much they’d like me if they knew what I’m plannin’ t’ do when we goes out in th’ spring!”
When Indian Jake had finished bread baking it was broad daylight, and when presently he called the boys several loaves of the hot bread were ranged upon a board by the stove, tea was made and caribou steaks were frying, and the tilt was filled with the pleasant odor of cooking.
“Oh, but it smells good!” exclaimed Andy, springing out of his bunk.
“I feel like I could eat a whole deer!” declared David.
“Well, get washed up, then!” grinned Indian Jake “Breakfast is ready and waitin’.”
A storm had sprung up in the night. As they ate they could hear the wind howling around the tilt, and dashing snow in spiteful gusts against the door. But with the cheerful, crackling fire in the stove they were as warm and cozy as any one could wish, and after breakfast, when Indian Jake lighted his pipe and the boys snuggled down in vast and luxurious contentment, Andy remarked:
“’Tis fine t’ feel we can ’bide inside, and don’t have t’ go out in th’ snow t’ cut wood or anything. ’Tis a fine day for Christmas.”
They discussed the furs they had accumulated, and what they were likely to get before the season closed, and the price the furs would bring, and the boys were made vastly happy by Indian Jake’s reassurance that they already had, he was quite certain, enough to pay the expenses of Jamie’s operation. Then it was quite natural they should be deeply concerned about their father’s broken leg, and whether it was healing, and whether or not the mist in Jamie’s eyes was continuing to thicken. Indian Jake was wholly optimistic.
“Your father’s up and about before this,” he cheered. “He’s feedin’ th’ dogs and ’tendin’ t’ things, and like as not doin’ some huntin’ close by Th’ Jug. There’s no need worryin’ about Jamie’s eyes, either. Doctor Joe’s lookin’ out for them. He’ll see to ’em and take care of ’em. He’ll never let th’ lad go blind.” Indian Jake’s positive manner lent this assurance the character of certainty. It seemed to remove from the day the last cloud, and they fell to speculating upon what the folk were doing at The Jug, and how they were enjoying the Christmas day.
And thus they talked of this and that until at length Indian Jake announced that it was time to “think of dinner,” and reaching behind the stove brought forth the big kettle containing the goose, and set it upon the fire, after taking a surreptitious peek under the cover.
“What’ll we have for dinner?” asked David. “I’m gettin’ hungry already.”
“Meat and other things. They’s no knowin’ what all,” answered Indian Jake cautiously.
“What’ll there be t’ have besides meat?” asked Andy curiously.
“Whitefish, maybe—and other things. But I don’t want any questions asked,” warned Indian Jake. “I’m gettin’ dinner. You’ll see what we have when th’ time comes.”
Indian Jake was most mysterious, and he was in great good humor with it all. The boys were keyed to a high state of expectancy. Something unusual was surely in store for them. The kettle boiled and in due time sent forth a most delicious and appetizing odor. The boys speculated and endeavored to identify the odor until suddenly David, with a happy thought, exclaimed:
“She smells like goose!”
“Where’d I be gettin’ goose this time o’ year?” asked Indian Jake, as though it were a most preposterous suggestion. “Didn’t we eat all the geese we had frozen up after the bear’s meat was gone?”
“Aye,” admitted David regretfully, “we ate un all; but she smells wonderfully like goose, and I wish she were goose!”
“She ain’t deer’s meat, whatever!” declared Andy.
“You’ll see when the time comes,” was all the satisfaction Indian Jake would give them, as he partially lifted the lid and threw some salt into the kettle as seasoning. Then, pouring boiling water into the kettle containing the pudding, he placed it also on the stove.
“What’s in that, now?” asked Andy.
“They’s no tellin’,” Indian Jake grinned. “They might be ’most anything. Davy, get a pan of whitefish ready to fry, whilst I mix some dumplings for th’ big kettle. We’ll start in with whitefish.”
The boys could scarcely contain their curiosity. The mystery was thickening, and the odor of goose was growing more appealing. Even when Indian Jake dropped the dumplings into the kettle, and they took big whiffs when he lifted the lid, they could make nothing of it.
“Oh-h-!” breathed Andy ecstatically. “But that smells good! And I’m hungrier’n I ever was in my life!”
“So be I!” declared David, turning the fish.
Indian Jake brewed the tea, and at last dinner was ready.
“Don’t eat too much of th’ fish,” he cautioned. “That’s just a starter.”
And so maintaining his air of mystery, and keeping the boys in suspense until the last moment, he lifted the cover from the kettle at the proper time with the announcement:
“It’s goose, lads, with dumplin’s. You guessed right.”
“Oh! Goose! Goose!” exploded Andy.
“I thought she smelled wonderfully like goose!” exclaimed David.
Indian Jake grinned broadly.
“This is just the best Christmas dinner we ever could have!” enthused Andy, as Indian Jake dished him a liberal portion.
“Where’d you get un, Jake?” asked David, as Indian Jake filled his plate. “After the bear’s meat were gone I were thinkin’ we ate th’ last goose we had.”
“I shot un just before th’ freeze up,” explained Indian Jake. “I was huntin’ up near where my first tilt is, and I left un in th’ tilt where she froze up and kept good, and I kept un for a Christmas feed. And now we’re havin’ th’ feed!”
But it was a dinner! And how they ate! They were sure the goose was every whit as good as though it had been fresh killed! It was fat and tender as ever a goose could be, and Indian Jake explained that while it was a big goose, it was a young one! And the dumplings! They were light and fluffy, and there was plenty of gravy to cover them!
“Don’t eat too much, now!” warned Indian Jake. “Save room for what’s comin’!”
Something was surely coming! Whatever it was, it bobbed merrily in the kettle, making the cover dance and jingle a lively tune. At last Indian Jake arose, and, taking the mixing pan, cleaned and dried it carefully.
The boys were on tiptoes, with curiosity and expectation. Indian Jake had never done anything with so much deliberation in his life! Satisfied, finally, that the pan was quite dry, he lifted the lid of the kettle and disclosed a cotton bag filled almost to bursting. With the point of his sheath knife he lifted the tied end of the bag cautiously, seized it quickly, and transferred the bag from the boiling water into the pan.
“Duff!” shouted Andy. “Plum duff!”
“Um-m-m! Plum duff!” echoed David.
Indian Jake ripped the bag its length, and with a dexterous movement lifted it, leaving the pudding naked, and disclosed in all its glory, announcing as he did so:
“Cranberry puddin’!”
Then he cut it into three big portions, and covering each with molasses, in lieu of sauce, passed one to each of the boys.
“There ’tis,” he said. “Go to un, and see how you like un!”
Like it! They were both quite sure they had never eaten such a pudding in all their life. Andy declared it “A wonderful lot better than plum duff!” It was a fit crown for the dinner.
Indian Jake explained that he had picked the berries one day when they were making a portage along the Nascaupee River. He had put them in the tea pail which he used on his trail, and there he found them when he opened the pail at his first tilt. They were frozen, and he stowed them away with other things under his bunk, and quite forgot them until he heard Andy wishing for plum duff on the day they killed the caribou.
“Then I makes up my mind if you wants plum duff so bad, we’ll use t’ berries and have some,” he concluded.
“You’ve been thinkin’ up a wonderful lot o’ surprises for us,” said Andy appreciatively.
The wind continued to howl and the snow to drift outside, but it troubled them not in the least. They were as snug and warm and satisfied as ever mortals can be. They were as happy, too—only David and Andy complained that they had eaten too much. But that is characteristic of boys the world over, on such occasions. And as for Indian Jake, he had reason to be the happiest of the three, for there is no happiness so complete as that which comes from giving others pleasure.
And if it were to be measured by appreciation rather than by variety or quality of cooking, or manner of service, I daresay nowhere in all the world was a better dinner served that Christmas day than in the little Narrows tilt on Seal Lake, in the heart of the Labrador wilderness.