CHAPTER XVIII.

 CHAPTER XVIII.  AN EXCITING MOOSE-HUNT. 1826. An interesting group of gentlemen was seated round a table covered with maps and papers in the dining-room of the Chief's house, arranging plans for the building of the Rideau Canal. They had been discussing for over an hour the relative merits of three different points at which the canal should diverge from the Ottawa River.  COLONEL BY  COLONEL BY "Anyone with half an eye could see that there is but one spot where the locks of the new canal should be constructed, and that is at Rafting Bay, between Nepean Point and the Western Bluff," said a soldierly-looking man, about five feet ten in height, with dark hair, florid complexion, and portly form, who wore the uniform of an officer. It was Colonel By, a Royal Engineer sent out by the British Government to overlook the work of strengthening the military defences of Canada. "The men who made the survey," he continued, "did not count the cost of such works if constructed at the mouth of the Rideau. Think of the height of it! We want a connecting point with the Ottawa River which will be less steep and abrupt." "In my opinion," said the Chief, "you should follow the natural undulation between the Rideau and the Ottawa River above the Chaudiere Falls, and surmount the cataract by locks, which could easily be constructed on the south side of the river, as the north side is not available owing to the existence of our lumber slides. This would throw the upper Ottawa open for navigation." "I assure your Excellency," said the Colonel, ignoring the suggestion and addressing a dignified and thoughtful-looking man of courtly manners, "there is but one place for the junction of the canal with the Ottawa River, and that is the place I have designated. The cost of constructing the connecting link for a mile southward to the Rideau will be as nothing compared with the cost of building the locks at the Rideau Falls." "I am quite convinced that your conclusion is a sound one," said Lord Dalhousie, "but I would like to have Colonel Durnford's opinion in the matter." "Since inspecting the proposed route this morning, gentlemen," said the Colonel, "I quite agree with Colonel By, that the attempt to construct locks at the mouth of the Rideau would be highly undesirable; but that is not the only fault that I find with the plans. The specifications provide for a canal which would be so narrow as to be entirely unsuited for military service as well as for the commercial requirements of the country. It would seem desirable, therefore, that your Excellency should urge upon the War Department the necessity of making the canal sufficiently wide to take vessels from one hundred and ten to one hundred and thirty feet long and forty to fifty feet wide and drawing eight feet of water." "I agree with you," said Lord Dalhousie, "We are building for the future of the country. Let us build well. What is the expenditure of an additional amount of twenty or thirty thousand pounds to the British Government when we consider the issues at stake?"* * In the eyes of the parliamentarians of London, who knew nothing of the country or the work, the sum seemed enormous. A Committee of the House of Commons was appointed, before whom Colonel By was summoned. The members treated him with scant courtesy, and no acknowledgment of his valuable services to the Empire was made. Colonel Durnford, R.E., an officer of unusually high character and great experience, was treated in a manner ill-befitting his rank and services. The only charge against him was that he had expended twenty-two thousand pounds in excess of the parliamentary grant, a most trivial offence, as he had been instructed "to proceed with all despatch consistent with economy." Colonel By was deeply hurt by such criticisms, and died a few years later from a disease directly attributable to the unjust treatment he had received.—Edwards. Among other matters of importance discussed at the meeting was the desirability of uniting the two sides of the river—the two provinces—by a bridge. It was finally decided to call for tenders the following day, when the formal ceremony of turning the first sod in the building of the canal would be performed by Lord Dalhousie. The visitors had accepted the invitation of the Chief to go on a moose-hunting expedition up the Gatineau. It was early morning in the first week of October when a party of eight left for Bearie's farm on the banks of the Gatineau. As they drove through the orchard which sloped gently eastward to the creek below, the trees presented an unusually gay appearance bending under their weight of mellow apples, some of crimson and some of a rich golden hue. Following the Columbia road through groves of brilliant maple and sombre pine, they arrived in due time on the banks of the river opposite an island, where men, canoes, and provisions were waiting for them. Their destination was the vicinity of a large cave at Wakefield, sometimes called the "mammoth cave," where they had arranged to camp for several days. The party consisted of Lord Dalhousie, Colonel By, Colonel Durnford, the Chief, Bearie, Christie, a Frenchman named Joe Leclaire, an Irish cook named Michael O'Flanagan, and Ephraim Meyers, a Yankee, who had the reputation of being the best shot in the settlement. The Governor was the life of the party, and related many amusing incidents connected with his varied experiences in the wilds of Canada, which kept the men in good-humor, notwithstanding the numerous and difficult portages. On reaching the camp-ground all hands were soon at work pitching tents, building a fire and attending to other necessary preparations; after which they sat round the fire while Michael prepared the evening meal. "Well, Mike," said Colonel By, "what do you think of this country? How does it compare with ould Oireland?" "Och, sur," said Michael, respectfully touching his hat, "I niver seed the loike. Them skeeters bates all that iver I seen—the knaves!"—rubbing his hands and arms vigorously—"shure they drive me narely mad. I niver shall forgit the furst time they swarumed around me like a a swarum of bays, an' I tuk me blankits and ran down to the river an' roulled mesilf up and went to shlape on the rocks. Well, sur, d'ye think they'd lave a poor crathure alone? Not thim, the brutes! Shure as you're alive, sur, they came out with their lanterns an' ye'd see a flash here and a flash there; an' kill 'em? ye moight as well try to kill the divil himsilf, for soon as I could get nare them, out would go their light, an' they'd all cum buzzin' round tazin' and tormintin' me. "Sez I to mesilf, 'Begorra, whin I get yez I'll finish yez; so I will, begorra, I will.' Well, sur, I'm tellin' yez the truth whin I say that they began pipin' out: 'Begorra! begorra! begorra!' and their mates cried out, 'Ye will? Ye will? Ye will?' till I cud shtand it no longer, so I put for the shanty as quick as me two legs could carry me." By this time all the men round the camp-fire were in fits of laughter, in which the Irishman joined heartily. His superstitious dread of 'skeeters,' was modified when they explained to him that fire-flies, frogs and tree-crickets had contributed each a share to the tragic drama. "Could you not give us a few suggestions which will assist us in becoming successful moose-hunters?" said Lord Dalhousie, addressing Meyers, who stood bare-headed, sheltering with his hat a faint flickering flame on a piece of "punk," which had been kindled by a tiny spark from his flint and steel, while he tried to light his pipe. "Wal," he said, "I reckon there's only two ways to shoot a moose: one is to coax him within range by imitating the call of his mate; the other way is to make a salt lick for him. At this time of the year the buck begins to harden his horns, and he lies on the sides of the hills in the sun and rubs his horns against the bushes to get off the bark or velvety skin. If you want to get a crack at him you'll have to be mighty sly and keep to leeward of him, for if the wind blows from you to him he will scent you. Always hunt against the wind, and when you sight one aim at the knee of the fore-leg. Then raise the muzzle slowly until you sight the body following up the leg. Don't hold your breath or it will make you tremble. Breathe freely until you are ready to pull the trigger." Meyers paused for a moment to take a few whiffs from his pipe. "What do you mean by a salt lick?" asked Colonel By, who sat with his back securely gummed to the trunk of a spruce tree, with both hands thrust into his pocket. "It's just an easy way of gettin' a shot at a deer," replied Meyers. "You choose a place where he'll be likely to pass, and put some salt in the hollow of an old log, or in a hole near the foot of a tree. Then you climb the tree and sit there and wait, and when the deer comes to lick the salt you may safely unhitch the contents of your rifle, for they rarely observe anything higher than their heads." "There is one important fact which applies not only to moose-hunting but also to hunting in general, and which should not be forgotten," said Bearie, who lay full length on his blanket with his chin resting on his hands. "Never go to see what you have shot without first reloading your gun. The animal may not be badly wounded, and may run away or may attack you." "If you happen to get sight of a buck, a doe and a fawn together, for they generally keep together at this time of the year," said Meyers, "aim at the doe first, for the buck and the fawn will both stay round; then aim at the buck, and you will probably secure all three." Several days passed. The party had not sighted anything in the way of large game, though they had discovered numerous evidences that the neighborhood was frequented by moose. One evening they had all returned to the camp save Colonel Durnford and Christie. Overcome by their exertions, the remainder of the party, with the exception of the Chief, had retired early and slept heavily. A low moaning wind had arisen and was sobbing round the camp. "What was that?" said the Chief, rousing Bearie, who was on his feet in a moment. "It sounded like a shriek, followed by a strange laugh, like the laugh of a maniac. Colonel Durnford and Christie have not returned yet, and I fear something has happened." They listened intently. Nothing could be heard but the wind whistling through the half-naked branches of the trees and rustling the dead leaves that covered the ground. The moon fell in slanting rays across the Laurentian hills. Dark clouds were hurrying up from the horizon, and soon the whole scene was plunged in darkness. "Hush! there it is again," said the Chief, in a state of breathless expectancy. "It seems to be coming nearer. Could either of them have met with an accident, I wonder?" Rousing the others, they seized their guns and followed the narrow path along the bank of the river in the direction whence the sound seemed to come. All was darkness—utter darkness. Suddenly there was a wild scream from the forest on the opposite bank. Its echoes had hardly ceased when it was answered by a similar cry from the trees above, followed by the same strange laugh. It proved to be the voice of the white-headed eagle calling to his mate. What had become of Christie and the Colonel was the question which perplexed the mind of every man in the party. They called and called again, but there was no answer. They penetrated into the woods with lighted torches, but could find no trace of them. They discharged an old Queen Anne gun, which had the reputation of making the loudest report of any of the firearms in their possession, but there was no response. At the first glimmer of daylight they organized a search-party, but not until late in the afternoon was suspense relieved by the return of the missing pair to the camp. "We must have walked five miles," said the Colonel, "following the course of a small stream. On ascending a low hill we looked cautiously over its crest. Before us was a scene I shall never forget. Several huge animals were standing within range under a clump of willows, nibbling at their twigs. The tall, broad, palm-like antlers that rose from the head of one of them, the immense size and ungainly forms, the long legs and ass-like ears, the immense heads with overhanging lips, the short necks with their standing manes, left no doubt in my mind that they were moose, for I had never before seen one. They were all of a dark brown color, almost blackish in the distance, the large one being darker than the others. "Christie handed me the gun, motioning me to move quietly. I must have lost my head, for all the first principles of moose-hunting slipped out of my mind, as I aimed at the high shoulders of the old bull, hoping to secure his antlers as a trophy. When I fired the doe and the fawn scrambled down hill towards the beaver-meadow below. I could see that the bull was not with them, and concluded that he was dead. Rushing forward without reloading my gun, to my great astonishment I found him on his knees, wounded. As soon as he saw me he rose to his full height, his eyes flashing fire, and lowering his horns in a forward position, he sprang at me. Dropping my gun I stepped behind a huge beech tree, the moose following close upon my heels. I had just time to get behind it when he rushed past, tearing the bark with his antlers. He turned and made another charge, only to find that I was in a safe position on the opposite side of the tree. Rushing up to the tree he struck it furiously with his horns, then with his hoofs, uttering loud snorts that were enough to intimidate even a military man. The disappointment which the enraged animal felt at seeing my escape added to his rage, and he vented his spite upon the tree until the trunk, to the height of six feet, was completely stripped of its bark. While this was going on I remained behind the tree, dodging round, always taking care to keep the infuriated brute on the opposite side. For over an hour this lasted. I was beginning to feel faint with fatigue. I could see that the bullet had hit the left shoulder, and, after tearing the skin, had glanced off."  "I remained behind the tree, dodging round."  "I remained behind the tree, dodging round." "Where was Christie all the time?" interrupted the Chief. "Why did he not secure the gun?" "On seeing the encounter I climbed a tree," said Christie. "It was the only thing I could do. I could not get hold of the gun, for it was under the feet of the moose. I could not have reached the ammunition, because the Colonel had it." "I must admit," said Colonel Durnford, "that I began to feel serious alarm. Any attempt on Christie's part to have approached me would have imperilled his life and mine, too. I began to realize the necessity for action, and so did Christie, and he called to me to escape to the nearest tree with branches sufficiently low to be easily climbed. Suddenly I caught sight of a spruce a few yards off, and waiting for the moose to work round to a favorable position, I sprang towards it and sheltered myself behind it. I laid hold quickly of an overhanging branch and swung myself up to a safe place on a strong limb of the tree. The moose arrived a second later, snorting furiously, and began to attack the tree, as he had the other, with hoofs and horns. He kept it up till darkness came on, then quietly took up a position at the foot of the tree, from which he hardly stirred all night long." "What a night!" exclaimed Christie. "Will you ever forget it, Colonel? How the wolves howled! A whole pack of them scented us. Once or twice the moon shone out, revealing their gaunt, shadowy forms and flashing eyes. It was enough to make one's hair stand on end. So bitter and penetrating was the night wind that it had a paralyzing effect upon us both. Before morning came we had decided upon a plan. We knew the wolves would give us no trouble, for they always disappear with daylight, so we arranged to have the Colonel engage the attention of the moose while I should attempt to secure the gun, which still lay at the foot of the beech tree; and that I should manoeuvre with the moose while the Colonel approached as near as possible and flung to me the ammunition. The scheme worked admirably. I was able, after several unsuccessful attempts, for the powder was not quite dry, to send a bullet through his heart." After a hearty meal Christie undertook to guide Meyers and Joe to the spot where the body of the moose lay, for they were detailed to guard it from the wolves and to bring it down the creek in a canoe the next morning. Fortune seemed to turn in favor of the hunters, for a young fawn fell a victim to a well-directed bullet from Lord Dalhousie's gun next morning, and another was secured by the Chief. Moose-hunting was not the only form of entertainment provided for the party. The old country visitors took a keen delight in drawing from the men stories of their adventures in the new world, which were mainly true, and were given in their own dialect. One evening, as the shadows of darkness were creeping on and all were gathered round the camp-fire, the Chief said: "Come, now, Joe, we want you to tell the gentlemen a story." Seated on a log, dangling his legs, was the diminutive Frenchman, with coarse gray homespun shirt and knitted tuque drawn down to his ears, which stuck out almost at right angles from the head. He glanced at the Governor, and then at the red-coated officers, with evident dread and apprehension. "Now, Leclaire," said the Chief, "don't be afraid. Tell your bear story." Slowly removing his tuque, "Little Joe," as he was familiarly called, began to scratch his head thoughtfully as if to rake up reminiscences. Suddenly his sickly, pock-pitted face lighted up and his black eyes indicated that he had succeeded in scratching up something to tell about. "Wan tam," he said, "when we work on de Got-no, I cut de whood, me, pour mak le souper, an' when I go back le shaintee—sacré bleu!—wan beeg bear she am got her head in de soup-pot. I trow down de whood an' run, me, for shure, lak wan wile moose. De bear she am skeart, an' she run, too. Le pot she steek on, too, lac wan blak hat. Dunno, me, how she fine le reever, but she run, and she sweem wit dat black pot till she reach the odder shore. Me an' de boss we tak le canot an' de gun pour chasser le bear an' we fine de pot, but we no see de bear." "Bravo! old man; that's not bad," said Lord Dalhousie. "Your turn now, Ephraim," said the Chief, addressing Meyers, who, ignoring the remark, went on smoking. There was an embarrassing silence as all eyes rested on the withered-looking face of the Yankee, who was evidently not ready with his contribution to the entertainment of the evening. "Tell us about the squaw you found in the woods," suggested Christie. "Wal," he said, "onct upon a time when we were runnin' the fifth concession line with Theodore Davis, we found an ole squaw who had been deserted by her children and left to find her way to Davy Jones's locker as best she could. Her poor ole body was bent almost double. She seemed very weak. Her only clothing was rabbit-skins sewed together with sinews, with the hair side next her skin. She mumbled a lot of things which we could not understand. D'ye mind Brown, the feller with the squaw wife?" he said, addressing the chief. "Wal, he told us that she lived on hares which she snared with sinews, an' that she lived alone an kep' herself from freezin' in winter by settin' fire to the end of a fallen log, and as the ashes cooled enough she would scoop out a nest to lie in. As the log burned she would follow the warm ashes an' move her nest closer to the fire, an' when one log was burned she would kindle another. She managed in this way to keep body and soul together for years alone in the forest." "Is that true?" asked Colonel By, "or is it one of your Yankee yarns?" "I reckon ye can fine out for yourself," retorted Meyers. "It is quite true," said Bearie. "I have never seen her, but I know several who have." "Now, Michael, you told us a good story the other night. Could you not tell us another before we roll ourselves up in our blankets?" said the Governor. "Faith, an it's tirrible sorry I am that I'm not used to public shpaking, fur I cud tell yer Honor about Shparks an' the bear." "The best way to become a public speaker, Mike," said Lord Dalhousie, "is to have something to say, and just say it, so tell us your story." "Me and Shparks wuz in the blacksmith shop when Joe Wyman, the young shpalpeen, sez he, 'There's a bear in the river beyant.' "'Come on, byes,' sez Mr. Rug, 'we'll foller him up,' sez he. He took down the gun that hung on the wall forninst him, an I tuk a hand-shpike forninst me, an Shparks he went out forninst the blacksmith shop an filled the inside of his shirt wid shtones, regardliss of shape or forrum; an', yer Honor," he said, touching his hat, "before Shparks an' me cud raitch the shore Mr. Rug was in the canoe. We cud see the great brute swimmin' to the island, an' we put after him as quick as iver we cud, but before we cud raitch him he had consailed himsilf. We spint two hours in searching for the brute, an' Shparks, who is a very obsarvant man, sez he, 'Begorra! there he is, as sure as a gun, makin' shtraight for the cliff.' "'Come on, byes,' sez Mr. Rug, 'we'll get aven wid the crayture yet.' "Shparks was feelin' pious-like, for it was Good Friday, an he didn't feel like fightin' bears nor min. Sez he, 'Let the poor brute go home to her cubs.' "'Niver a bit of it,' said Mr. Rug, 'we'll not lit her go till she's kilt.' An' with that he put after the bear as fast as he cud. When we were not twinty yards from the baste, Mr. Rug, he aimed at the bear, but Shparks moved, an' the bullet went whizzin' into the water. Then Shparks he began a-peltin' him wid shtones, so he did, which made the poor baste so mad that he wheeled round an' was makin' shtraight for the canoe, when I up wid the handshpike to bate him, while Mr. Rug was loadin' his gun. Well, yer Honor, it's tirrible sorry I am to be tellin' yez that I upset the canoe, an' me an' Shparks an' the bear wuz all strugglin' in the ragin', foamin' deep. "'Holy angels!' sez I, 'save me! save me!' The current was so shtrong that it carried me to the little island forninst the cliff, an' it was mesilf that was glad when I was washed on a rock near the shore. Mr. Rug an' Shparks they clung to the canoe an' drifted down to the shores of the cliff which the bear wuz engaged in ascendin'. "'What's that,' sez I to mesilf, 'comin' across the river? It's a boat,' sez mesilf to me, 'wid the Chief and Mr. Brigham.' Soon they had reached the other shore, an' two bullets from their guns brought the poor crayture tumblin' to the bottom." The weather turned exceedingly cold and wet, and as camping was no longer desirable, the party packed up their things and left. They had not gone many miles on their return trip when the leading canoe scraped a rock. Water poured in so quickly that the crew, consisting of the two officers, with Bearie and Joe, had to swim ashore towing the wreck behind them. Joe was sent to the woods to gather spruce gum and birch bark, while the other three tried to kindle a fire. After much difficulty they succeeded in securing light rotten wood from the inside of a hollow tree, sufficiently dry to retain sparks from a flint, and in a short time three half-frozen men stood steaming before a huge fire. After two hours of fruitless search, the Frenchman returned unable to procure any birch bark, but with a quantity of gum, which he scraped into a small iron kettle, together with a small quantity of fat, and suspended it over the fire. "Now we are in a dilemma," said Colonel By. "What shall we do without bark? Shall we have to go the rest of the way on foot?" "Not while there is a homespun shirt around," replied Bearie, who was busily engaged in cutting off part of his shirt-sleeve. The piece was soon smeared with melted gum and fastened securely over the hole, and in a few minutes the frail bark was skipping from wave to wave on the bosom of the mountain torrent till it reached the Gatineau farm.