“One day a woodsman, who had been on a long tramp prospecting for prime birch timber, rushed into a camp on the Restigouche with news that he had discovered a ‘yard’ of moose.
“A ‘yard’ it may here be explained, is an opening in the forest where a herd of moose has trampled down the snow and made its headquarters. The yard is always surrounded by young trees, upon whose succulent shoots the moose feed. It forms a striking scene – the animals lying about the space of trampled and discolored snow, while here and there a magnificently antlered bull towers above the rest, keeping watch; and here and there on the edge of the yard an animal is reaching aloft its long, prehensile lips to tear down its meal of green branches.
“Now, the news which the inspector brought into camp created an instant interest. Fresh meat was at a premium in the Restigouche Camp; and at the thought of moose-meat, which is a sort of beef idealized, every lumberman’s mouth began to water longingly. The boss was quite at one with the hands in this respect; wherefore it was not long before a hunt was organized.
“Only those men could take part who had snowshoes, for the snow was deep that season. So there was a small muster of five; but with those five went the blessings of the camp. Upon their success hung the hopes of all their hungry comrades.
“The wind, fortunately for the hunters, was blowing from the yard to the camp, so that it was not necessary to take a roundabout course. The expedition was led by the prospector, who was an enthusiastic hunter, and skilled in woodcraft.
“It was past midday as the yard was approached. The hunters separated, and closed in on the yard from all sides save that from which the wind was directly blowing. The leader, whose name was Story, had the longest way to go, in order that by the time he could get into position all the others might be ready and waiting.
“Presently an owl was heard to hoot twice. This was Story’s signal. The moose heard it too, and pricked up their ears; for the owls they were accustomed to hear hooted, as a rule, in the night-time. Then they heard the soft, hurried tramping of the snow-shoes, and the crackling of frosted twigs all about them, and huddled together, terrified, in the middle of their yard.
“The next moment five rifles blazed out upon them, and the hunters rushed in. Two of the creatures fell at the volley, and two more, fat young cows, were knifed by the nimble huntsmen; and the rest of the herd dashed wildly off, running up the wind, where they scented no danger.
“Now Story was in a great disgust. His shot had failed to kill. He had fired at the chief of the herd, a splendid bull, whose antlers he craved as a trophy. The bull was struck somewhere in the body, for he staggered; but instantly recovering, he had charged fiercely in the direction of the assault. Story had stepped behind a tree; and the mad beast, not detecting him, had continued his career through the woods, almost at right angles to the direction which was taken by the rest of the herd.
“Story gave chase at a run, loading as he went. The bull was already out of sight, but his track was ample guide. The hunter knew he had hit the animal hard, and looked for a speedy triumph.
“For an hour he continued his long trot, encouraged from time to time by the sight of blood upon the snow. The animal’s path led at last through a region of gullies and copses, and low, broad beech-trees. Suddenly, as Story was skirting the crest of a little ravine, from a thicket close ahead of him the great moose dashed out with a bellow, and charged upon him like lightning.
“The hunter had not time to check himself, but whipped the gun to his shoulder and took a snap-shot. Even at the same instant the snow gave way beneath his feet, and his shot flew wide as he rolled to the foot of the ravine.
“The animal was upon him before he could recover himself, and he thought his end was come. Dropping his gun, now useless, he drew his knife, and, just escaping one keen prong, he seized the antlers with one hand, while with the other he slashed at the animal’s neck. It was the depth and softness of the snow, with the confusion of bushes and roots beneath it, that saved him from being crushed at once.
“As the moose felt the knife in his neck he drew back, and threw up his head with violence, intending to trample his adversary with his terrible hoofs; but the neck of the moose has tremendous power, and as the hunter clung to his hold with desperate tenacity, knowing that his last chance depended on it, he was thrown high into the air. He came in contact violently with a beech-tree branch.
“One thinks quickly in such emergencies as these; or rather an instinct, drowsy at other times, wakes up and saves us the need of thought. Story flung both arms around the branch, and with a great sigh of thankfulness, and possibly an inward utterance of the same, swung himself out of harm’s way.
“When his opponent failed to fall, the moose was astonished. He turned round and round, and tore up the snow, and bellowed hoarsely in his rage. The thing was inexplicable.
“At last he looked upward, and saw the hunter in the branches. His indignation waxed fiercer than ever, and he made desperate efforts to pull down the branches by seizing and breaking off their tips.
“How the huntsman chuckled and derided him!
“After a time the mad brute grew more calm. Then, to Story’s supreme disgust, he lay down under the tree to starve his prisoner out. The hunter had no gun. The weather was severe. There was nothing to eat. There was no way of stealing off unobserved. To crown all, the wretched man recalled a number of incidents showing the implacable persistence of the wounded bulls of this species.
“For perhaps an hour the hunter waited, vainly hoping that this particular moose would prove less obstinate than his kind, or would get homesick for the rest of the herd, or would die of his inward wound.
“But nothing seemed farther from the animal’s intention than any one of these things. It was growing dark, and the shivering captive began to realize that he would have to spend the night in his tree.
“He tucked his knife back safely in its sheath, and undertook to warm himself a little.
“His snow-shoes he had taken off long before, and had tied them to a limb, knowing that if they should fall to the ground the moose would at once make mince-meat of them. Then he proceeded to climb about the tree with the utmost energy and agility, while the moose, who had risen promptly to his feet, looked on with the most obvious amazement.
“By this means Story soon got rid of his chill. Before it was quite dark he selected a safe and comparatively comfortable spot where two large branches forked, and tying himself securely to the limb with his long scarf, he tried to go to sleep. It was a profitless undertaking, and after an hour or two of faithful effort he gave it up. He was stiff, miserable, hungry, and half-frozen.
“It had grown so dark that he thought perhaps he might descend the other side of the tree, and slip away without the moose being any the wiser. With what he fancied perfect noiselessness, he tried it.
“He was almost down, when there was a bellow and a rush, and the animal was almost upon him. He escaped just by a hair’s-breadth, and swung nimbly back into his refuge. He had no stomach for another attempt of that sort. He began to calculate how long it would be before they would miss him in camp, and come to look for him.
“The prospect did not cheer him. Known as he was for a determined hunter, his comrades would go home without him, confident that he would turn up all right when he had bagged his game. If he was not back by morning they would perhaps think something had gone wrong, and set out to look for him.
“They would have to retrace their steps to the moose-yard, and then, picking up his trail from the yard, might be expected to rescue him about noon. By that time, he thought to himself miserably, he might be frozen stiff. He decided to do something! But what?
“At first he thought of cutting a branch, fastening his knife to the end of it, and stabbing his captor with the improvised harpoon. But the beech-branches were too thick and crooked to suit his idea. He did at last, however, succeed in splicing a sort of spear about five feet long; and when he had got the knife lashed to the end of it all his stock of twine was exhausted.
“The spear was pretty satisfactory, but he of course dared not throw it; and the moose showed no inclination to come where he could be effectually and neatly despatched. The hunter struck his harpoon into a limb, and set out to concoct another weapon.
“By this time the moon was up. The hunter tore a little strip from his shirt, wet it in his mouth, and rubbed it full of gunpowder. This made a fair bit of slow-match, which he folded several times longitudinally, and then inserted in the top of his powder-flask. To the short end, which he left protruding, he touched a match; and then he tossed the flask down in front of the moose.
“The sputtering of the slow-match for a moment disconcerted the animal, and he drew back. Then, as if ashamed of his weakness, he sprang upon the flask and trampled it fiercely under his feet. While he was indulging in this interesting performance the powder exploded with a bang, and the astounded animal sprang high into the air.
“But though badly startled, he was not frightened by any means. He was shocked and scorched, and a little torn in the fore legs; but this only made him the more deadly. In a paroxysm of pain and hatred he dashed under the tree, and rearing frantically struggled to reach the hunter.
“This was just what the wily woodsman desired. Lying flat on a branch almost within reach of the beast’s antlers, he reached down and dealt him a blow in the neck. A second thrust went deeper, and struck a more vital part, almost under the throat. The blood gushed out in a torrent, and the hunter congratulated himself that deliverance was near at hand.
“Presently the great animal stood still, and looked about him with a puzzled, anxious air. He felt his strength going from him, and could not understand it.
“Soon he began to sway from side to side, and had to brace his feet apart to keep from falling. At last he fell. Then the hunter, stretching himself, came down out of the tree and stood beside his noble and defeated antagonist.
“Story was too weak and cold and hungry to think of waiting to cut off the animal’s head and hide it from the bears. He slipped on his snow-shoes, found his gun, and started back in haste for the camp. Before daylight he had reached the ‘yard’; and there, to his intense delight, he met a party of his comrades who had set out in the night to look for him.”
DAN
“And now,” said I, “I’ll tell you of Dan’s great fight. It was fought before he came into my possession; that is, before my friend H – , going away to study in Germany, handed him over to me. It was just a few weeks before H – ’s departure, and we were setting out for a farewell trip to the wilderness together.
“As for Dan, he was not much to look at certainly; and I was prejudiced against him by the fact that he took up room in the canoe. To carry a great bulldog in a birch canoe was contrary to all my notions of the fitness of things. But H – had protested so vehemently against the idea of leaving him behind, and the dog had behaved with such sobriety and good sense when I took him out to try him in a choppy sea, that I yielded a reluctant consent.
“Our proposed route was through the chain of the Chiputneticook Lakes, down stream all the way, with no difficult water to contend against, and no bad rapids to shoot. We had two canoes, – that which bore H – and myself, and that in which our Indian carried the baggage; so that really it was not impossible to make room for the addition to our party, and Dan was formally enrolled a member.
“He took his place in the forward mid-section of my canoe, immediately behind his master, where he coiled himself up into a compact bundle. There he calmly ignored the wildest vagaries to which the lake waves could impel our little craft. This good seamanship of his, with his dignified manner toward myself and his adoring devotion to his master, gradually won my respect; and before we had been many days out we were on terms of mutual consideration. I ended with a cordial enjoyment of his company.
“I think I began by declaring that Dan was not much to look at. This was my first and biassed impression. But it must be modified by the acknowledgment that his splendid proportions and great strength were apparent to the most casual observer. In fact, he was a perfect specimen of his breed.
“But the expression of his small eye and mighty jaw, which certainly belied his true character, was bloodthirsty to the last degree; and his white coat was disfigured with a tangle of long scars which looked as if the business of his life were brawls. As I afterwards learned, those scars were the ornament of a hero, no less to be honored than if his great heart had throbbed in a human body.
“It was one night in camp at the head of the Big Chiputneticook that I heard how those scars were achieved. Tent was pitched on a bit of dry interval which fringed the base of a high rock, a well-known landmark to trappers, and distinguished by the name of ‘The Devil’s Pulpit.’ The rock towered over us, naked and perpendicular, for a distance of two hundred feet, then shelved, and rose again some hundreds of feet farther to a beetling cap of mingled rock and forest.
“Our camp was flanked on each side by a thicket of cherry and vines and young water-ash, and the light of our fire filled the space between with the comfort of its cheerful radiance. In the midst of this we lay basking, each waiting for the other to begin a yarn; but no one seemed prepared.
“We had been out ten days in the wilderness; and night after night our occupation had been this one of ‘swapping’ experiences, till I had found myself compelled to fall back on my inventive faculty, and our Indian, Steve, who was communicative beyond the custom of his people, had begun to repeat himself in his stories.
“As for H – , he never spun a yarn save under some strong compulsion, yet we knew more or less vaguely that many a strange experience had fallen to his lot. We had had some stirring adventures together, he and I, since first I had initiated him into the mysteries of woodcraft. But it was rare for him to recall them in conversation, and hence I judged that there was much in his experience of which I had never heard.
“On the present occasion the long silence was becoming almost drowsy. For me the flame from our logs was beginning to change mistily into the glow from a heaped-up grate, and to play over two small curly heads and a long-eared pup on a hearth-rug, when suddenly from far up in the moonlit rocks of the summit came the wail of the northern panther.
“I was startled wide-awake; and the little vision faded instantly into a consciousness of the open heaven, the white lake, and that lonely, haunted summit.
“But it was not altogether the panther that had startled me. It was Dan, who had sprung almost over my head toward the hillside, and now stood trembling with wrath.
“At the command of his master he stalked back and sat down again; but he faced the hillside, and never withdrew his fierce gaze from the spot whence the sound had seemed to come.
“‘Never mind him, old dog,’ said H – soothingly; ‘you can’t get at him, you know.’
“‘What makes Dan so excited?’ I asked. ‘I never saw him so much worked up before. See, he’s fairly quivering!’
“‘Oh,’ replied H – , ‘there’s no love lost between Dan and the Indian devils. That yelling stirs up some lively reminiscences in his old pate. He thinks that Indian devil is coming right down here to tackle me. See how he keeps me in his eye! And see him turn his muzzle round now and then to lick those scars of his. I’ll venture to say he feels them smart now, when he remembers the night he got them at the head of the Little Tobique.’
“‘Let’s have it, old man,’ I urged. ‘You’ve never told me about that scrape. I’ve been taking those scars as a certificate of Dan’s fighting propensities.’
“‘Do you suppose any dog,’ said H – in a tone of disdain, ‘could carve Dan up in that style? Not by a good deal! It was a big Indian devil that undertook the contract. He accomplished the frescoing in a very elaborate fashion, as you see. But he didn’t survive the job.’
“H – compressed his lips, and added, ‘I can tell you, my dear boy, that was something like an Indian devil, that fellow, and came mighty near settling my claims for me. He measured six feet from tip of nose to tip of tail, and you know what a poor sort of thing they all have for a tail. It was Dan saved my life that night.’
“Pete and I settled ourselves more comfortably against our log cushions. Dan, having heard no more yells from the hilltop, and having perceived that the conversation concerned himself, curled himself up with a gratified air, and thrust his great head into his master’s lap.
“‘You remember,’ resumed H – , ‘last year I went to the Tobique all by myself, except for Dan’s company. I was gone six weeks and more. When I got back to Fredericton you were off up Quebec way, and so I never happened to tell you about the trip.
“‘Well, I had the best fishing you can conceive of. It was far better than any we’ve ever had together in those streams. But as for the panthers, I never heard anything like them. They used to howl round the woods at night in a frightful way.
“‘Dan used to keep awake all night, watching for them. But they never ventured near the camp. They didn’t disturb me; but if I had not had Dan with me I might have felt a little shaky, perhaps, at night. I had rather a contempt for the brutes at that time, but they were not much help to a fellow when he was feeling lonely.
“‘You know that pretty cove on the right shore of the Little Tobique, about a hundred yards from where the brook flows in? On that patch of open just on top of the bank I pitched my tent. By the time the camp was fixed, and the fish fried for supper, it was getting pretty well past sundown. It was a gorgeous moonlight night, as bright as day. There wasn’t a mosquito about. I tell you I felt pretty nice as I lifted the pink flakes of fried trout onto my plate, and fixed a dish for Dan.
“‘I was getting out the hardtack, when I saw a whopping big trout jump, just by the mouth of the brook. It was bigger than any I had caught so far, and I could not bear to lose the chance of taking him while he was feeding.
“‘I set down my plate, telling Dan to watch it, seized my rod, tied on a cast of white and gray millers, and struck hurriedly through the bushes toward the other side of the cove, where I thought I could get a fair cast.
“‘You know what sort of a place that shore is, – all banks and bowlders, and thickets and little gullies; and some of those gullies are hidden by fallen trees, or grown over with weeds and vines. You have to keep your eyes open, or you are liable to tumble into these pitfalls. I was in a hurry, and plunged right ahead. I wanted to catch that trout and get back to my supper.
“‘At last, about sixty or seventy yards from the camp, I dodged round a thick fir-bush, and saw right in front of me something that brought me up mighty short, I can tell you.
“‘Not ten feet away, crouched along the top of a white bowlder, lay a huge Indian devil just ready to spring.
“‘I felt queer right down to my boots, but kept my eyes fixed on those of the brute, which gleamed like two emeralds in the moonlight. My right hand reached for my belt, and I stealthily drew my old sheath-knife. At the same time I whistled sharply for Dan.
“‘The brute was on the very point of springing when I whistled; but the shrill sound startled him, and deterred him for a moment. He glanced uneasily from side to side, half rising. Then he drew himself together again for his spring.
“‘Before he could launch himself forth, I hurled the butt of my fishing-rod full in his face, and sprang aside. I saw the long body flash toward me, and at the same instant I crashed through a tangle of underbrush, and sank into one of those gullies.
“‘Instinctively I threw out my left arm to save myself. My grasp caught a tree-root on the edge of the hole. The next instant I felt the panther’s teeth sink into my arm. I didn’t know how deep that hole was, but I wanted to be at the bottom of it right away.
“‘At the risk of stabbing myself, I slashed desperately above my head with my free right hand. It was not a breath too soon; for at that very instant the brute had reached down with the amiable intention of clawing my head. The knife went through his paw, which he snatched back, snarling fiercely. But he kept his grip on my arm.
“‘Then I heard Dan come tearing through the brush. I lunged again, blindly of course; and this time the blade went through the panther’s jaw and into my own flesh. The brute let go; and I rolled to the foot of the gully, a distance of some five or six feet. Even as I fell I heard Dan’s vindictive cough as he sank his teeth into his adversary’s throat. There was a mad snarl from the big cat, a struggle – and the two rolled down on top of me.
“‘I got out of the way in a great hurry. At first it was too dark down there to distinguish the combatants. In a moment, however, my eyes got used to the gloom. The two animals were almost inextricably mixed up. Dan’s grip was right under the panther’s jaw, so that he could not make any use of his teeth. The wary old dog had drawn himself up into a tight ball, so as to expose as little of himself as possible to the attack of his enemy’s claws. But his back and haunches were getting terribly mangled.
“‘Dan fought in silence; but the Indian devil made noise enough for both, and the yelling down in that little hole was fiendish. I felt my left arm, and found it was not broken. Then I sprang on the Indian devil, seized him by the tail, and tried to jerk his hind legs clear of Dan.
“‘His back was bowed up into a half-circle, and there was no unbending that arch of steel.
“‘I dug the knife twice into his side, and he paid no attention to it, so absorbed was he in the life-and-death struggle with Dan. If left to themselves I saw that the fight would end with the death of both. Dan was inexorably working through the throat of his foe, but was in a fair way to be torn to pieces before he could get this accomplished.
“‘I threw myself on the panther’s hindquarters, twining my left arm around his supple loins, and with my right hand I reached for his heart.
“‘See the length of this blade? I drove it in to the hilt three times behind that brute’s fore shoulder before I fetched him. Then he straightened out and fell over.
“‘It was some time before I could persuade Dan to drop him. The poor old fellow was so torn he could hardly walk. I picked him up in my arms, – though it’s no joke to carry a dog of his weight, – and lugged him back to the camp.
“‘We were a sight to see when we got there, a mass of blood from head to foot.
“‘I stayed at that camp four days, nursing Dan and myself, before we were able to start for home; and then we had to go, for fear we’d be starved out. I thanked my stars and your old-time injunctions that I had taken the little medicine-case along with me. It might have gone hard with us but for that.’
“As H – concluded, Pete grunted in astonishment and admiration. Indeed, these expressive grunts of his had furnished a running fire of comment throughout the narrative. For myself, I fetched a deep breath, got up, and went over to embrace Dan. As I rose, I cast my eyes up the mountain, and exclaimed, – .
“‘Talk of angels and you’ll see their wings, eh? Look there!’ H – and Pete followed my gaze. Far up, in the whiteness of the moonlight, we saw a stealthy form creep across a surface of bare rock. Dan saw it too, and every muscle became rigid.
“The form disappeared in a thick covert, and a moment later there issued again upon the stillness that strange, blood-curdling cry. It sounded like a challenge to the hero of H – ’s story.
“But the challenge went unheeded. H – ordered Dan into the tent. In a few minutes we were wrapped in our blankets, and the panthers had the wilderness all to themselves.”
“What became of Dan at last?” inquired Sam.
“Poisoned three years ago; but I made the brutes that did it smart for it!” said I, shutting my teeth with a snap.
“Hanging would have been none too bad for them!” growled Stranion. From this the talk wandered to dogs in general; and each man, of course, sang the praises of his own, till presently Stranion cried, “Douse the glim!” and we rolled into our blankets.