The Young Fur Traders

Chapter Twenty One.

Ptarmigan-hunting—Hamilton’s shooting powers severely tested—A snowstorm

At about four o’clock on the following morning, the sleepers were awakened by the cold, which had become very intense. The fire had burned down to a few embers, which merely emitted enough light to make darkness visible. Harry, being the most active of the party, was the first to bestir himself. Raising himself on his elbow, while his teeth chattered and his limbs trembled with cold, he cast a woebegone and excessively sleepy glance towards the place where the fire had been; then he scratched his head slowly; then he stared at the fire again; then he languidly glanced at Hamilton’s sleeping visage; and then he yawned. The accountant observed all this; for although he appeared to be buried in the depths of slumber, he was wide awake in reality, and moreover intensely cold. The accountant, however, was sly—deep, as he would have said himself—and knew that Harry’s active habits would induce him to rise, on awaking, and rekindle the fire,—an event which the accountant earnestly desired to see accomplished, but which he as earnestly resolved should not be performed by him. Indeed, it was with this end in view that he had given vent to the terrific snore which had aroused his young companion a little sooner than would have otherwise been the case.

“My eye,” exclaimed Harry, in an undertone, “how precious cold it is!”

His eye making no reply to this remark, he arose, and going down on his hands and knees, began to coax the charcoal into a flame. By dint of severe blowing, he soon succeeded; and heaping on a quantity of small twigs, the fitful flame sprang up into a steady blaze. He then threw several heavy logs on the fire, and in a very short space of time restored it almost to its original vigour.

“What an abominable row you are kicking up!” growled the accountant; “why, you would waken the seven sleepers. Oh! mending the fire,” he added, in an altered tone; “ah! I’ll excuse you, my boy, since that’s what you’re at.”

The accountant hereupon got up, along with Hamilton, who was now also awake, and the three spread their hands over the bright fire, and revolved their bodies before it, until they imbibed a satisfactory amount of heat. They were much too sleepy to converse, however, and contented themselves with a very brief inquiry as to the state of Hamilton’s heels, which elicited the sleepy reply, “They feel quite well, thank you.” In a short time, having become agreeably warm, they gave a simultaneous yawn, and lying down again fell into a sleep, from which they did not awaken until the red winter sun shot its early rays over the arctic scenery.

Once more Harry sprang up, and let his hand fall heavily on Hamilton’s shoulder. Thus rudely assailed, that youth also sprang up, giving a shout, at the same time, that brought the accountant to his feet in an instant; and so, as if by an electric spark, the sleepers were simultaneously roused into a state of wide-awake activity.

“How excessively hungry I feel! isn’t it strange?” said Hamilton, as he assisted in rekindling the fire, while the accountant filled his pipe, and Harry stuffed the tea-kettle full of snow.

“Strange!” cried Harry, as he placed the kettle on the fire—“strange to be hungry after a five miles’ walk and a night in the snow? I would rather say it was strange if you were not hungry. Throw on that billet, like a good fellow, and spit those grouse, while I cut some pemmican and prepare the tea.”

“How are the heels now, Hamilton?” asked the accountant, who divided his attention between his pipe and his snowshoes, the lines of which required to be re-adjusted.

“They appear to be as well as if nothing had happened to them,” replied Hamilton. “I’ve been looking at them, and there is no mark whatever. They do not even feel tender.”

“Lucky for you, old boy, that they were taken in time, else you’d have had another story to tell.”

“Do you mean to say that people’s heels really freeze and fall off?” inquired the other, with a look of incredulity.

“Soft, very soft, and green,” murmured Harry, in a low voice, while he continued his work of adding fresh snow to the kettle as the process of melting reduced its bulk.

“I mean to say,” replied the accountant, tapping the ashes out of his pipe, “that not only heels, but hands, feet, noses, and ears frequently freeze, and often fall off in this country, as you will find by sad experience if you don’t look after yourself a little better than you have done hitherto.”

One of the evil effects of the perpetual jesting that prevailed at York Fort was, that “soft” (in other words, straightforward, unsuspecting) youths had to undergo a long process of learning-by-experience: first, believing everything, and then doubting everything, ere they arrived at that degree of sophistication which enabled them to distinguish between truth and falsehood.

Having reached the doubting period in his training, Hamilton looked down and said nothing, at least with his mouth, though his eyes evidently remarked, “I don’t believe you.” In future years, however, the evidence of these same eyes convinced him that what the accountant said upon this occasion was but too true.

Breakfast was a repetition of the supper of the previous evening. During its discussion they planned proceedings for the day.

“My notion is,” said the accountant, interrupting the flow of words ever and anon to chew the morsel with which his mouth was filled—“my notion is, that as it’s a fine, clear day we should travel five miles through the country parallel with North River. I know the ground, and can guide you easily to the spots where there are lots of willows, and therefore plenty of ptarmigan, seeing that they feed on willow tops; and the snow that fell last night will help us a little.”

“How will the snow help us?” inquired Hamilton.

“By covering up all the old tracks, to be sure, and showing only the new ones.”

“Well, captain,” said Harry, as he raised a can of tea to his lips, and nodded to Hamilton as if drinking his health, “go on with your proposals for the day. Five miles up the river to begin with, then—”

“Then we’ll pull up,” continued the accountant; “make a fire, rest a bit, and eat a mouthful of pemmican; after which we’ll strike across country for the southern woodcutter’s track, and so home.”

“And how much will that be?”

“About fifteen miles.”

“Ha!” exclaimed Harry; “pass the kettle, please. Thanks.—Do you think you’re up to that, Hammy?”

“I will try what I can do,” replied Hamilton. “If the snow-shoes don’t cause me to fall often, I think I shall stand the fatigue very well.”

“That’s right,” said the accountant; “‘faint heart,’ etcetera, you know. If you go on as you’ve begun, you’ll be chosen to head the next expedition to the north pole.”

“Well,” replied Hamilton good-humouredly, “pray head the present expedition, and let us be gone.”

“Right!” ejaculated the accountant, rising. “I’ll just put my odds and ends out of the reach of the foxes, and then we shall be off.”

In a few minutes everything was placed in security, guns loaded, snow-shoes put on, and the winter camp deserted. At first the walking was fatiguing, and poor Hamilton more than once took a sudden and eccentric plunge; but after getting beyond the wooded country, they found the snow much more compact, and their march, therefore, much more agreeable. On coming to the place where it was probable that they might fall in with ptarmigan, Hamilton became rather excited, and apt to imagine that little lumps of snow which hung upon the bushes here and there were birds.

“There, now,” he cried, in an energetic and slightly positive tone, as another of these masses of snow suddenly met his eager eye—“that’s one, I’m quite sure.”

The accountant and Harry both stopped short on hearing this, and looked in the direction indicated.

“Fire away, then, Hammy,” said the former, endeavouring to suppress a smile.

“But do you think it really is one?” asked Hamilton anxiously.

“Well, I don’t see it exactly, but then, you know, I’m near-sighted.”

“Don’t give him a chance of escape,” cried Harry, seeing that his friend was undecided. “If you really do see a bird, you’d better shoot it, for they’ve got a strong propensity to take wing when disturbed.”

Thus admonished, Hamilton raised his gun and took aim. Suddenly he lowered his piece again, and looking round at Harry, said in a low whisper—

“Oh, I should like so much to shoot it while flying! Would it not be better to set it up first?”

“By no means,” answered the accountant. “‘A bird in the hand,’ etcetera. Take him as you find him—look sharp; he’ll be off in a second.”

Again the gun was pointed, and, after some difficulty in taking aim, fired.

“Ah, what a pity you’ve missed him!” shouted Harry. “But see, he’s not off yet; how tame he is, to be sure! Give him the other barrel, Hammy.”

This piece of advice proved to be unnecessary. In his anxiety to get the bird, Hamilton had cocked both barrels, and while gazing, half in disappointment, half in surprise, at the supposed bird, his finger unintentionally pressed the second trigger. In a moment the piece exploded. Being accidentally aimed in the right direction, it blew the lump of snow to atoms, and at the same time, hitting its owner on the chest with the butt, knocked him over flat upon his back.

“What a gun it is, to be sure!” said Harry, with a roguish laugh, as he assisted the discomfited sportsman to rise; “it knocks over game with butt and muzzle at once.”

“Quite a rare instance of one butt knocking another down,” added the accountant.

At this moment a large flock of ptarmigan, startled by the double report, rose with a loud, whirring noise about a hundred yards in advance, and after flying a short distance alighted.

“There’s real game at last, though,” cried the accountant, as he hurried after the birds, followed closely by his young friends.

They soon reached the spot where the flock had alighted, and after following up the tracks for a few yards further, set them up again. As the birds rose the accountant fired, and brought down two; Harry shot one and missed another; Hamilton being so nervously interested in the success of his comrades that he forgot to fire at all.

“How stupid of me!” he exclaimed, while the others loaded their guns.

“Never mind; better luck next time,” said Harry, as they resumed their walk. “I saw the flock settle down about half a mile in advance of us; so step out.”

Another short walk brought the sportsmen again within range.

“Go to the front, Hammy,” said the accountant, “and take the first shot this time.”

Hamilton obeyed. He had scarcely made ten steps in advance, when a single bird, that seemed to have been separated from the others, ran suddenly out from under a bush, and stood stock-still, at a distance of a few yards, with its neck stretched out and its black eye wide open, as if in astonishment.

“Now, then, you can’t miss that.”

Hamilton was quite taken aback by the suddenness of this necessity for instantaneous action. Instead, therefore, of taking aim leisurely (seeing that he had abundant time to do so), he flew entirely to the opposite extreme—took no aim at all, and fired off both barrels at once, without putting the gun to his shoulder. The result of this was that the affrighted bird flew away unharmed, while Harry and the accountant burst spontaneously into fits of laughter.

“How very provoking!” said the poor youth, with a dejected look.

“Never mind—never say die—try again,” said the accountant, on recovering his gravity. Having reloaded, they continued the pursuit.

“Dear me!” exclaimed Harry suddenly, “here are three dead birds.—I verily believe, Hamilton, that you have killed them all at one shot by accident.”

“Can it be possible?” exclaimed his friend, as with a look of amazement he regarded the birds.

There was no doubt about the fact. There they lay, plump and still warm, with one or two drops of bright red blood upon their white plumage. Ptarmigan are almost pure white, so that it requires a practised eye to detect them, even at a distance of a few yards; and it would be almost impossible to hunt them without dogs, but for the tell-tale snow, in which their tracks are distinctly marked, enabling the sportsman to follow them up with unerring certainty. When Hamilton made his bad shot, neither he nor his companions observed a group of ptarmigan not more than fifty yards before them, their attention being riveted at the time on the solitary bird; and the gun happening to be directed towards them when it was fired, three were instantly and unwittingly placed hors de combat, while the others ran away. This the survivors frequently do when very tame, instead of taking wing. Thus it was that Hamilton, to his immense delight, made such a successful shot without being aware of it.

Having bagged their game, the party proceeded on their way. Several large flocks of birds were raised, and the gamebags nearly filled, before reaching the spot where they intended to turn and bend their steps homewards. This induced them to give up the idea of going further; and it was fortunate they came to this resolution, for a storm was brewing, which in the eagerness of pursuit after game they had not noticed.

Dark masses of leaden-coloured clouds were gathering in the sky overhead, and faint sighs of wind came, ever and anon, in fitful gusts from the north-west.

Hurrying forward as quickly as possible, they now pursued their course in a direction which would enable them to cross the woodcutters’ track. This they soon reached, and finding it pretty well beaten, were enabled to make more rapid progress. Fortunately the wind was blowing on their backs, otherwise they would have had to contend not only with its violence, but also with the snow-drift, which now whirled in bitter fury among the trees, or scoured like driving clouds over the plain. Under this aspect, the flat country over which they travelled seemed the perfection of bleak desolation. Their way, however, did not lie in a direct line. The track was somewhat tortuous, and gradually edged towards the north, until the wind blew nearly in their teeth. At this point, too, they came to the stretch of open ground which they had crossed at a point some miles further to the north ward in their night march. Here the storm raged in all its fury, and as they looked out upon the plain, before quitting the shelter of the wood, they paused to tighten their belts and readjust their snow-shoe lines. The gale was so violent that the whole plain seemed tossed about like billows of the sea, as the drift rose and fell, curled, eddied, and dashed along, so that it was impossible to see more than half a dozen yards in advance.

“Heaven preserve us from ever being caught in an exposed place on such a night as this!” said the accountant, as he surveyed the prospect before him. “Luckily, the open country here is not more than a quarter of a mile broad, and even that little bit will try our wind somewhat.”

Hamilton and Harry seemed by their looks to say, “We could easily face even a stiffer breeze than that, if need be.”

“What should we do,” inquired the former, “if the plain were five or six miles broad?”

“Do? why, we should have to camp in the woods till it blew over, that’s all,” replied the accountant; “but seeing that we are not reduced to such a necessity just now, and that the day is drawing to a close, let us face it at once. I’ll lead the way; and see that you follow close at my heels. Don’t lose sight of me for a moment, and if you do by chance, give a shout; d’ye hear?”

The two lads replied in the affirmative, and then bracing themselves up as if for a great effort, stepped vigorously out upon the plain, and were instantly swallowed up in clouds of snow. For half an hour or more they battled slowly against the howling storm, pressing forward for some minutes with heads down, as if boring through it, then turning their backs to the blast for a few seconds’ relief, but always keeping as close to each other as possible. At length the woods were gained; on entering which it was discovered that Hamilton was missing.

“Hollo! where’s Hamilton?” exclaimed Harry; “I saw him beside me not five minutes ago.”

The accountant gave a loud shout, but there was no reply. Indeed, nothing short of his own stentorian voice could have been heard at all amid the storm.

“There’s nothing for it,” said Harry, “but to search at once, else he’ll wander about and get lost.” Saying this, he began to retrace his steps, just as a brief lull in the gale took place.

“Hollo! don’t you hear a cry, Harry?”

At this moment there was another lull; the drift fell, and for an instant cleared away, revealing the bewildered Hamilton, not twenty yards off, standing like a pillar of snow, in mute despair.

Profiting by the glimpse, Harry rushed forward, caught him by the arm, and led him into the partial shelter of the forest.

Nothing further befell them after this. Their route lay in shelter all the way to the fort. Poor Hamilton, it is true, took one or two of his occasional plunges by the way, but without any serious result—not even to the extent of stuffing his nose, ears, neck, mittens, pockets, gun-barrels, and everything else with snow, because, these being quite full and hard packed already, there was no room left for the addition of another particle.