CHAPTER XXXVIII A CARIBOU, AND HOW IT WAS KILLED

A day was spent at Dalton's, as it was found that several horses needed shoeing, but the following morning the pack train forded the Alsek and clattered off along the trail, while the Bradfords were ferried over the swift stream by a Stik Indian in a dug-out,—a canoe which consists of the trunk of a single large tree hollowed by fire and the axe.

The trail led through the woods, and Mr. Bradford and Uncle Will agreed that in such a region the little party of four should keep together, since the two robbers, if they were concealed anywhere in the neighborhood and still had lawless intentions, would hesitate to waylay and attack an armed party of twice their numbers. The three packers were also well armed.

The forest was left behind at noon, and they gladly ascended to the top of a range of treeless uplands where there was no cover for an enemy. Here a small pack train of oxen and horses, in charge of five or six New Englanders, was met. They had seen no suspicious persons since leaving Pyramid Harbor. When questioned about the fords of the Klaheena and Salmon[315] rivers, the travellers laughed and pointed to one of their number whom they called Mr. Green, as being most likely to have a vivid recollection of his experience.

"Yes," said Mr. Green, good-humoredly, "I shall not soon forget the ford of the Klaheena. You see, our pack animals are loaded down with about all they can carry, and I'm no feather-weight. Consequently, instead of mounting one of the already overburdened beasts, I crossed the two fords of the Salmon River by wading. The water was cold, but I didn't mind the wetting much, and took the precaution to hold fast to the tail of the largest ox. This plan succeeded so well at the first two fords that when we reached the Klaheena I felt no hesitancy about crossing in the same manner. I stripped off most of my clothing, took a firm hold of the tail of the big ox, and we started.

"Well, gentlemen, if you've ever seen a pickerel spoon whirl round and round when it's dragged behind a boat, you will have some idea of the motions I described when I struck that deep and rushing current. I was off my feet in a twinkling and thrashing about in the wildest manner imaginable; and if I hadn't gripped the tail of that ox with the strength of desperation, I shouldn't be here to tell about it. Even the ox was forced down the stream quite a distance, but his heavy load enabled him to keep his feet, and he[316] hauled me out at last on the opposite bank, more scared than hurt. But next time, gentlemen, I'm going to ride."

Mr. Green's droll recital was listened to with much amusement. He now wiped from his brow the perspiration which his exciting reminiscences had induced, and added a last item of advice.

"My friends," said he, with a serio-comic expression on his round face, "don't you try swimming, either. We saw a young fellow do that, and—I swan! if he didn't go down-stream like a chip. He would reach the shore time and again and try to get hold of something, but there was nothing but loose gravel, and it gave way as soon as he touched it, and away the current would hustle him. It kept that fellow moving for a mile, and he might be going yet if he hadn't been washed up on a gravel bar."

These tales of the dread Klaheena were anything but reassuring to the Bradfords; and in the imagination of the boys that river began to assume the form of a ravening monster. What with mountain torrents and highwaymen, they felt that they would be the most fortunate of mortals if they reached the coast in safety. They discovered, as many a brave man has done, that the terrors of anticipation are often far more unnerving than a real and present danger.

About the middle of the afternoon they crossed two[317] deep ravines, each the bed of a noisy brook, and soon afterward found themselves on the highest ridge of the bleak uplands. It was not thought necessary here to keep together, and Uncle Will and Roly were fully a quarter of a mile in advance of Mr. Bradford and David, who had paused to make pannings at the streams in the ravines.

"Keep a sharp lookout for our pack train," cautioned Uncle Will. "I think they've camped somewhere here, and we don't want to miss them."

As he spoke, he and Roly were approaching the crest of a low hill. Suddenly Uncle Will, who was leading, stopped, then threw himself at full length on the ground.

"Down, Roly, quick!" he whispered. "There's a caribou coming. Don't make a sound."

Roly dropped instantly, and the two lay there, quiet but excited, gazing at the crest of the hill not more than forty feet ahead, Uncle Will meantime drawing his revolver. Roly had no weapon but his knife, and the only kind of a shot he could take was a snapshot,—for he happened to be carrying David's camera. Even that might not be possible, for the sun was almost in line with the game.

Fortunately the wind was blowing from the caribou's direction, and without scenting danger he trotted briskly along the trail. After a moment of thrilling[318] suspense the two watchers saw first his antlers and then his head and body rise above the sky-line, until the magnificent animal stood full in view. He paused an instant as if to reconnoitre, which gave Uncle Will his opportunity. The report of the revolver rang out sharply.

The caribou started, looked about without seeming to discover the two crouching figures, then circled slowly off to the right as if to get the scent from the point of danger. Uncle Will fired again and with better effect, for the caribou stopped and wavered. Meanwhile Roly, camera in hand, was man?uvring for a position from which he could take a picture. Before he had succeeded, a third shot brought the caribou to his knees. He rose, struggled forward a step or two, then sank never to rise again. All three bullets had struck him, and it was found that the first, which appeared to have so little effect, had gone clear through his body, from front to rear.

"We've got him!" exclaimed Uncle Will, delightedly, as he ran toward the fallen game. "It's queer for an old hunter like me to have buck fever, but I had it that time. Did you see my hand tremble, Roly? Didn't think I could hit the side of a house. Did you get the picture?"

"No," said Roly, "not the one I wanted. The sun was right behind him."

[319]

Shouts were now heard, and three men and a horse were seen approaching, while some distance behind them in a cloud of dust galloped a party of mounted men. They all arrived on the scene together. The mounted men proved to be a squad of police in charge of a sergeant and accompanied by Jack Dalton and an Indian, all bound for Pleasant Camp; while the three men on foot were Mr. Bradford, David, and Phil. The new-comers gathered around the caribou and plied the successful hunters with questions.

"You went clean by our camp," said Phil. "Didn't you see the horses off to the left of the trail about half a mile back?"

"No," said Uncle Will, "and we looked out for them too."

"I saw you go by," continued Phil, "and shouted, and when you didn't seem to hear I started after you. Then I heard your shots and saw the caribou, and concluded you had gone ahead because you had seen the game, so I went back for a horse."

Uncle Will and Phil set to work to cut up the carcass, first removing the hide, which the former wished to preserve. A generous portion of the meat was given to Dalton and the police, who had always shown unfailing hospitality to the Bradfords; while the Indian received permission to take certain sinews and cords which are utilized in the manufacture of the native[320] snow-shoes. The remainder of the dressed carcass was placed upon Phil's horse and taken back to the camp, where the cook took charge of it with much rejoicing.

"Venison!" exclaimed the old man, again and again, as if it were too good to be true. "No more bacon for the rest of this trip! Now we'll live like kings!"