Sweetapple Cove Page 12

  CHAPTER XII

  _From Miss Helen Jelliffe to Miss Jane Van Zandt_

  _Darling Aunt Jennie_:

  As the boys keep on exclaiming in _Stalky & Co._, I gloat!

  I have now utterly and forever become one of those bold females, as yourcousin Theresa calls them, who so far forget the refinement of their sexas to indulge in horrid masculine pursuits, and go afield clad inperfectly shocking garb, looking like viragos, to emulate men inbarbarous sports. After this open and glorious confession I hasten totell you that I have actually killed a caribou, and a most splendid one.I suppose that some day my much flattered photograph may appear in anillustrated Sunday supplement, under some such heading as "Our SocietyDianas." I have spent two most wonderful days and shall never forget themif I grow to be twice as old and plain as Miss Theresa.

  We started in the early morning. Of course I was awake before Susieknocked at my door, and only waiting for her to help me lace those highboots of mine. She is the only woman I ever knew who can make knots thatwill not come undone until you want them to. I suppose that it is aninherited trait from her ancestry of fishermen and sailors.

  We rowed across the cove to the place where we land when we gosalmon-fishing. I was distressed when I saw the size of the packs the menwere carrying, for it looked as if they had prepared for an excursionbeyond the Arctic Circle, and of course it was chiefly on my account.Susie clamored to be allowed a bundle also but neither Sammy nor Frenchywould hear of it.

  "Ye'll be havin' ter help th' lady when we's on the mash," Captain Sammytold her.

  I discovered later that the mash is really a marsh, or swamp, or rather awhole lot of them. Sammy opened the procession, followed by Yves. Then Icame, aided and abetted by Susie, and the doctor closed the imposingline, also bearing a big pack. Whenever the nature of the groundpermitted Susie would walk beside me and impart her views. She trudged onsturdily, her feet enclosed in a vast pair of skin boots borrowed fromsome male relative. The evident disproportion in the sizes did nottrouble her in the least.

  "I got four pair o' stockins," she informed me, "an' me feet feels goodan' aisy."

  A little later she imparted to me some of her views on the sport we werepursuing.

  "Huntin' is man's work," she said, "but I doesn't say as a woman can't doit if she's a mind ter, like anythin' else. One time I shot me brother'sgun at a swile, and it liked ter have knocked me jaw awry. I had a lumpon it fer a week an' I let mother think I had the toothache. Anyways Iscared the swile real bad, an' meself worse. That time I were cookin'aboard a schooner on the Labrador, as belonged ter me cousin Hyatt, himas is just a bit humpy-backed. He got one o' them dories wid a glassbottom, an' they say his back crooked a kneelin' down ter see the cod,afore settin' the traps."

  "What kind of traps?" I asked her.

  "Them as is big nets leadin' inter a pocket where the cod gets jest shutin," she informed me.

  "Wasn't it horrid to go on such a long trip and stay on a boat so long?"I enquired.

  "Sure, but we mostly gets landed there. They has shacks or little houses,an' flakes built up, in some places."

  "It must be very disagreeable," I said.

  "Laws, ma'am. They is allers some hard things about workin' the best oneknows how ter make a livin' an' help one's folks. The worst of it washavin' no other wimmin folks ter talk to."

  "Do you mean that you were alone with the crew?"

  "Sure, ma'am. They wouldn't have no use fer a lot o' wimmin. They was achap once as wanted ter kiss me an' I hove th' back of me fist ter hisjaw, most shockin' hard. It give me sore knuckles, too, but I reckon agirl kin allers take care of herself an' she has a mind ter."

  I looked at her vigorous shoulders and was disposed to agree with herstatement. It is a splendid thing, Aunt Jennie, for girls to be strongand sturdy enough to help themselves, sometimes, as well as to helpothers. I have a notion that it is a good thing that the day is passingaway of the girls of the fainting sort who were brought up to backboardsand mincing manners. That girl has self-reliance and willingness stampedall over her, and it is good to see.

  The men were going well. At first I had been surprised at the slowness oftheir gait, but I soon realized that they could keep it up all day, inspite of their loads. Yet once an hour they stopped for a breathing spellof a few minutes, during which they wiped their foreheads and sometimeshad a pull at their pipes. We no longer had any view of the sea. Below usand to one side, Sweetapple River was brawling over rapids, resting inpools, or riffling over shallows. It wound its way through a littlewooded valley, fairly well grown with small spruces and firs whose sombergreens were often relieved by the cheery, lighter hue of birches. Thejunipers, as they call tamaracks in Newfoundland, were beginning to shedtheir yellowing needles, and many of them were quite bare, or else dead,with gnarled limbs fantastically twisted.

  Several times we put up ptarmigans, that flew away with the curious"brek-kek-kex" that is their rallying cry, showing white spots on theirdull-hued plumage, which would soon grow into the pure, snowy livery ofwinter days. A few snipe flew up from the side of water-holes, withshrill cries and twisting flights. Far away on the marsh we saw a flockof geese, pasturing like so many sheep, while one of their number playedsentinel, perched high up on a hummock.

  "When deer gets alongside o' geese they is happy," Sammy informed me."Th' caribou knows nothing kin get nigh so long as the honkers is keepin'watch."

  After this we were walking on one of many paths we had followed,well-trodden and some inches below the level of the grey moss.

  "I had no idea there would be enough people here to make these paths," Isaid to Dr. Grant. "And why do so many of them cross from time to time?"

  "They are made by the caribou, every one of them," he replied. "Most ofthese have been abandoned for a long time. The people of the Covesometimes come as far as this, and by dint of firing their heavy sealingguns loaded with slugs they may have made the deer shy. We shall soon seeplenty of tracks, for the hunters seldom go farther than this, Sammytells me. You see, they would have a hard time bringing the meat home.They have to sled it out with dogs or carry it on their backs. We aregoing farther, since we are not looking for a whole winter's provision."

  The barren over which we traveled was beginning to be much wider, and theclumps of straggling trees less frequent. Far away there was a range oflittle mountains, tinted with purples and lavenders, rather indistinct inthe distant haze. The sun was lighting up bright spots where the peatbogs held miniature lakes, among which were tiny islands of bushes andlow trees dotting the great marsh. Here and there small tamaracks stoodquite apart, as if their ragged dress had caused them to be ostracized bythe better clad spruces and firs.

  Suddenly the men stopped near a little tree, and I saw that much of itsbrown bark had been stripped off. On the white wood beneath there weresome curious dark red spots.

  "A big stag has been rubbing his horns here within a day or two, MissJelliffe," the doctor told me. "You ought to see one of them at work.Their horns must itch desperately when they are ready to shed theirvelvet, for they hook away at these saplings as if they were actuallyfighting them. Such blows as they give; one can hear them quite far off.Look at this place where the wood has actually been splintered off. Thesemarks are dried blood. And now look down at your feet. This fellow issurely a big one, the ground is soft and he has left a huge track. Youwill notice that the toes are widely separated, and that the dew clawshave also left their mark. No other deer than the caribou ever make thatfourfold imprint, and they only do it on muddy ground or in snow."

  "How I wish I could see him!" I cried, excitedly.

  He had taken out a pair of field glasses, and was sweeping the greatbarren with them.

  "One does not often see the stags on the marsh at this time of the year,"he said. "They usually remain in their lairs among the alders on theedges of ponds and streams. But I think I see something."

  I strained my eyes in the same direction. Far away, against the sky-line,I th
ought I discerned little dark dots which appeared to be moving, andthe doctor handed me the glasses.

  "You are far-sighted," he said. "I see that your eyes have caught them.Now take a nearer look at them."

  "Oh! I can see them ever so plainly now," I exclaimed.

  "They are two does with their fawns, I think," he said.

  "I'm afraid you are mistaken," I told him. "One of them has antlers, butnot very large ones."

  "Very true," he replied, "but the caribou does, alone in the whole deerfamily, frequently have them. They are never as large as with the stags."

  "I can see them feeding along quietly, with their noses on the ground,and sometimes they look up, and now one of them is scratching her earwith her hind foot. It is the prettiest thing I ever saw. Now they aregoing on again, slowly. You are not going to try and kill them, are you?"

  "A starving man may shoot anything for food," he answered, "but we mustlook for something we would not be ashamed to kill."

  So they lifted up their packs again, and we resumed our journey, untilhunger compelled us to stop near one of the little wooded islands growingout of the silvery barren. Near at hand a tiny rivulet was tinkling, fromwhich the kettle was filled. Sammy and Yves cut down some tamarack stickswhile the doctor undid one of the packs and brought out a frying-pan andsome tin cups and plates. In a very few minutes the kettle was boilingand bacon frying with a pleasant sputtering. There was bread and butter,and a jar of marmalade.

  "Thus far I entirely approve of caribou hunting," I declared. "I have anidea that such a picnic as this must be the most delightful part of it."

  The wind was blowing briskly, and the trees swaying to its caress.Moose-birds began to gather around us, calling out with voices rangingfrom the shrillest to deep raucous cries, sometimes changing toimitations of other birds. They became very tame at once, and hoppedimpudently among us, cocking up their saucy little heads and watching us.Susie happened to put a little bacon on a piece of bread, beside her onthe clean moss, the better to handle a very hot cup of tea, and one ofthe jays pounced upon it and dragged it away.

  "Git out o' there, ye imp!" she cried. "Them birds would pick the nailsoffen yer boots if they was good ter eat."

  "They are ever so pretty," I said. "And oh! look at that poor littlechap. He hopped into the frying pan and scalded his toes."

  The indignant bird flew away, uttering perfectly disgraceful language,but the others seemed to be quite indifferent to his fate and remained,bent on securing every discarded crumb.

  After this a flight of yellow-leg snipe passed by. Dr. Grant began towhistle their soft triple note and the wisp of birds circled in the air,coming nearer and nearer until, becoming suspicious, they winged theirjourney away. And then we were invaded by a troop of grosbeaks whogathered in the neighboring bushes, their queer, tiny voices, seemingquite out of place, coming out of such stocky, strong little bodies. Inthe meanwhile a woodpecker was tap-tapping on a dead juniper. It was allso very different from the cruel, ragged coast with its unceasing turmoilof hungry waves breaking upon the cliffs. Here there reigned such awonderful peace, interrupted only by the song of birds. There were softoutlines in the distance, and everywhere the scent of balsams. Of courseit was all very desolate; a vast swamp dominated by sterile ridges ofboulder-strewn hills; an immense land of peat-bogs and mosses, grey andgreen and purplish, upon which only the caribou and the birds appearedable to live. Yet it was no longer a place where the fury of the elementswas ever ready to unchain itself against poor people clinging to theirbare rocks. The breath of one's nostrils went ever so deep in one'slungs, and one's muscles seemed to gather energy and respond ever so muchmore efficiently than they ever did in big towns.

  "I don't think I ever before realized the beauty of great waste places,"I said. "It looks like a world infinite and wonderful, over which wemight be traveling in quest of some Holy Grail that should be hidden awaybeyond those pink and mauve mountains."

  The doctor smiled, in his quiet way.

  "Yes," he said. "One feels as if one could understand the true purpose ofliving, which should be the constant effort to attain something ever soglorious that lies beyond, always beyond."

  I wonder just what he meant by that, Aunt Jennie?

  Soon our little caravan went on, and we began to see many tracks ofcaribou, chiefly does and fawns. In low swampy places we several timescame across old wind-and rain-bleached antlers, shed in the late fall ofthe previous year.

  We had traveled for a couple of hours since luncheon when we stopped foranother breathing spell. Sammy was explaining the lie of the country tothe doctor, who nodded. Then the latter showed me a tiny valley whereran, amid a tangle of alders and dwarf trees, a large brook that wanderedslowly, with many curves, to join the river far away on our right.

  "At this time of the year there is not much chance of finding a stag inthe open," he said. "They remain in places like that, hidden in thealders until it is time for them to wander off and make up their familyparties. Are you very tired, Miss Jelliffe?"

  I assured him that I was still feeling ever so fit.

  "We are only about a mile and a half from the place where we are to campfor the night," he told me. "The others will go there and get thingsready. Frenchy can return here for my pack. If you would like to comewith me and hunt along the brook we should make it a somewhat longerjourney, owing to the many bends, but we should have a chance of gettinga stag."

  Of course I told him that I should like it ever so much, and we made ourway down a slope while the others continued along the ridge. Indeed I wasnot tired at all. Notwithstanding the sodden moss in which our feet hadbeen sinking for hours, and the peaty black ooze that held one back, Ihad no trouble in following Dr. Grant, who was carefully picking out thebest going.

  After we reached the brook we went along the bank, but were sooncompelled to leave it owing to the impenetrable tangles of alders, aroundwhich we had to circle. The doctor stopped to show me some tracks ofotters, and then we came to a place where the bank was steep, and alittle smooth path was worn down upon its face, leading into the water.

  "An otter slide," he explained. "They run up the bank and toboggan downinto the water, again and again. It is a sort of game they play."

  "How I should like to see them!" I exclaimed.

  He put a finger up to his lips, enjoining silence, and led the waytowards a deep pool. Then he turned and lifted up his hand. We remainedmotionless, hidden behind a rank growth of alders and reeds, and Isuddenly saw a little black head upon the water and caught the gleam of apair of bright eyes. Then came a splash, and the ruffled water smoothedover. We waited, but never saw him again.

  "That was a big, old, dog otter," said the doctor.

  We continued on our winding way, finding a very few tracks of does andfawns, but occasionally we came across the broad imprint of a big stag.

  "He must be living somewhere around here," whispered my companion.

  He looked very alert now, noting every sign and stopping to investigatethe waving of grasses and the motions of leaves. We peered in everytangle of bush and shrub, and moved as silently as we possibly could.

  We had slowly been following the stream for nearly an hour, and were onthe edge of the brook when the doctor quickly knelt down, and of courseI followed his example. He pointed towards some alders ahead of us.

  "See those tops moving?" he whispered.

  "I see them bending with the wind," I replied, in the same low voice.

  "There is no wind here," he said. "It must be a stag or a bear in there."

  We kept on watching and, Aunt Jennie, my heart was beating so with theexcitement of it that I could hardly keep still. But I insist that I wasnot the least bit scared. I rather think that Dr. Grant impresses one asa man who could take care of bears or anything else that might threatenone. Presently, above the green leaves, appeared something that lookedlike stout, reddish branches. We could see them only for an instant, andthen they went down again.

  "It's a
big, old stag," whispered the doctor.

  "What shall we do?" I asked.

  "I am going to give you a shot," he said.

  "I shouldn't dare. I am sure I should miss," I answered.

  "You must try. You know that you are the lucky one. I am going to leaveyou here with the rifle and I shall crawl back a little way. If we wenton he would jump away on the other side of the alders and that would bethe last of him. I am going off to the right, and then I will walk slowlytowards him. The river is shallow here, and it is the only open spot. Hewill surely jump in it, and probably stop for a second to see what iscoming, for he won't smell me. You will have a fine chance at him fromhere."

  He placed the gun in my hands, already cocked, and was gone, noiselessly,in an instant. I watched those bushes eagerly, and once again saw the bigtops of those antlers above the alders. Behind me everything waswonderfully still, and I could hear the beating of my heart. The doctorseemed to have been swallowed up by the wilderness, and I have never feltso entirely alone as at that moment. An instant later I realized that astrange thing was happening; I was no longer nervous, and my hands wereperfectly steady. After this, away to the right, I heard the faintestcrackling of branches and the horns appeared again, absolutely still fora moment. Then another little branch cracked, and there was a turmoil inthe bushes, a splashing over the shallow, gravelly bottom of the littlestream, and the great, gray-brown body and white, arching neck of thestag appeared, like a thing out of a fairy book. The head was noble,poised on that snowy neck, and the antlers looked like a tangle of brush.The lithe thing stopped, the sensitive ears went back, and he startedagain.

  But the gun had gone up to my shoulder, Aunt Jennie, quite instinctively,and for a fraction of a second I saw that wonderfully feathered neckin the notch of the sight, then a brown place that was the beginning ofthe shoulder, and I pulled the trigger. His long trot changed to afurious, desperate gallop. A leap up the further bank carried him out ofmy sight, and I was now so flurried that I never gave him a second shot.Indeed I felt so badly that I wanted to sit down and have a good cry.

  I heard the doctor, who was tearing through the bushes, just as HarryLawrence used to butt his way through a football line.

  "You've got him," he yelled. "They never run like that unless mortallywounded. We'll have him in a moment!"

  "Do you really think so?" I cried, breathlessly.

  "Come on and see for yourself," he answered, and in our turn we splashedthrough the shallow water and found the track on the other side. This wevery carefully studied, so as to be able to distinguish it from others,and then we went on, very cautiously, both walking on tiptoe. He wasahead of me, with the cocked rifle in his hand, but after going a shortdistance he stopped, suddenly, and began to fill his pipe, with the mostexasperating coolness.

  "Why don't you go on?" I asked, indignantly.

  "Don't you think I deserve a pipe?" he said.

  "You don't deserve anything," I told him. "I want my stag."

  "_Mademoiselle est servie_" he said, laughing. "And you are indeed a mostlucky young woman."

  "Where is it? Where is it?" I cried. "You are trying to be as mean as canbe just now, and I won't speak to you again to-day or any other day ifyou don't stop."

  But I was looking around as I spoke and suddenly, under a little clump ofbirches, I saw something that made my heart beat fast again, and I dashedaway, shouting, as I verily believe, and running as fast as the deer whenI had last seen him. I had the advantage of the start and I beat thedoctor to the quarry. It was lying there, the most splendid thing youever saw, and I am sure I spoke in awed tones, as one does in a bigcathedral.

  "I had no idea that it would be so big. Oh! The beautiful clean limbs!And what a head! Those big flat horns in front that run down nearly tohis muzzle are just wonderful! It seems to me that I just saw him for asecond and pulled the trigger, and there was a little report that Iscarcely heard, just as if the gun was a little toy thing, and now he islying there and I don't know whether to be glad or sorry."

  "You should be glad," he told me. "You might hunt for many months withoutmeeting with such a head as that. Now that it is all over it may seem abit tragic, but you must remember he was just a tremendous, handsomebrute, ready at all times to fight others to the death, to kill them inhis blind fury of jealousy. And those who fall to the gun may perhapshave met the best end of all. Think of the poor old stags draggingthemselves to some tangle in order to escape the wolves or bears andlynxes, and whose last glances reveal things creeping towards them orgreat birds waiting to peck their eyes out. Man is seldom as cruel asnature proves to be, for it is everywhere harsh and brutal. Little dramasare constantly taking place under this very moss we tread, and those dearlittle black-headed birds, over there in the bushes, are killing all daylong. You and I realize that the killing is the least part of the sport,but we wanted meat and came out for it ourselves, instead of hiringbutchers to do the slaughtering for us. Moreover, you have a trophy whichyou will take back with you, and which will be one more souvenir ofSweetapple Cove."

  I felt that I was brightening up again.

  "How beautiful it is!" I said again, quite consoled. "Look at that long,white beard under his neck, and how deeply brown his cheeks are!"

  "We must count the points," he proposed.

  He went over them several times, with the greatest care.

  "There are thirty-nine good ones," he said, "besides one or two littleones that will hardly come up to the mark. It is a big beamy head withbroad flat horns. You will seldom see a better one, Miss Jelliffe."

  We sat there for a moment, and presently heard some one coming throughthe woods. It was the two men who were hurrying towards us.

  "Camp ain't a quarter mile away," shouted Sammy. "Us heered the shot an'come down. My, but that be a shockin' monstrous big stag. He's lucky,ma'am, doctor is. I mistrust he don't miss often."

  "Miss Jelliffe fired that shot, Sammy," announced the doctor.

  "Well, now! It do beat all! So yer done it yerself, did yer, ma'am? I'llfix him up now and bring th' head in by an' by. Don't yer be feared, Iknows how ter take a scalp off fine fer stuffin'. To-morrer we'll takethe meat. He's not long out of the velvet. Go right over ter the camp an'shift yer wet boots. Frenchy he'll show yer. Kittle's bilin' an'everything ready. It do be a fine day's work."

  They all looked so happy that the last doubt left my mind. Frenchy waspositively beaming with delight, and I had to show them just where Istood when I shot, and to explain everything. Then we trudged cheerfullytowards camp, keeping for a while by the edge of the brook, which we hadto cross again. We came to a tiny waterfall, and above it was the outletof a little lake, deep and placid-looking. Some black ducks were swimmingon it, not very far away, and I was shown a beaver's house.

  "That's the real, wild outdoors that I love," I declared, stopping for amoment. "How calm and still it all is. Look at the feathery smokedrifting away over there. I suppose it is the camp."

  For a moment there was a bit of bad going, over some wind-fallen trees,and the doctor held out his hand for me.

  "Thank you," I said. "It seems to me that I am all the time having tothank you, you are always so kind. I must say that you are a perfectlystunning guide."

  So we got to the camp, laughing, and Susie had to be told the story allover again, while I changed shoes and stockings in the little tent, wherethere was the thickest possible bed of fragrant balsam, covered withblankets.

  It is getting late, Aunt Jennie, and I'll have to tell you the rest of itanother time. It was perfectly glorious.

  Really I think it is a pity that Dr. Grant should bury himself in such aplace. He ought to live in our atmosphere, for he is entirely fitted forit.

  So good night, Aunt Jennie, with best love from yourHELEN.