Part 10

"The Lynx has had rather an extravagant blowout," remarked The Boy. "One could go to England, dine there in great shape, and back again for the price of his dinner." Francois did not answer. He was certainly running in bad luck.

"I t'ink me we pull out from dis S'ack," he said; "give up de Marten Road, an' move down to my ol' place at Hay Riber. Before, I keel plenty fur dere; here I get me not'ing, only plenty bad medicine."

"All right, Francois, I'm willing--anything you say," answered Rod.

"I got my ol' S'ack down dere," continued the Trapper, "an' we go for dat place. To-morrow we pick up de Trap. De Black Fox he's die, so I s'pose me we don't want stop here. I got give little Pere Lacombe some presen' for de Mission, an' mus' keel de fur for dat, soor."

CARCAJOU'S REVENGE

In the morning Francois and Roderick started with their dog-train to pick up Traps from the Marten Road.

"S'pose it's better w'at I go to de Lan'ing firs'," Francois remarked reflectively, as they plodded along behind the dogs and carry-all; "we don' got plenty Trap now, an' I can' find dat poison bottle. Yesterday I look, but he's gone soor; I put him on de s'elf, but he's not dere now. P'r'aps dat Whisky-Jack steal him, for he take de spoon some time; but anyway can' trap proper wit'out de poison."

After they had left the Shack Whisky-Jack cleaned up the scraps that had been thrown out from breakfast, and having his crop full, started through the woods looking for a chance of gossip. He observed Carcajou scuttling awkwardly along through the deep snow; this was the first time Jack had seen him since he had been liberated from the Trap.

"Hello!" cried the Jay; "able to be about again?"

"Who's at the Man-shack?" queried the other in answer, entirely ignoring Jack's personal gibe.

"Nobody," piped the Bird; "left me in charge and went out on their Marten Road."

"And the Dogs, O One-in-charge?" asked Carcajou.

"Gone too; are you out for a scrap with the Huskies, my bad-tempered Friend?"

"Were you sweet-tempered, gentle Bird, when you burnt your toes, and scorched your gizzard with the Man-Cub's fat pork?"

"Well, sore toes are enough to ruffle one, aren't they, Hunchback,--Crop-eared Stealer of Things?"

"And your Men Friends took the leg off our King," continued Wolverine, ignoring the other's taunt. "The Red Widow is close to an attack of rabies with all this worry."

"You're full of stale news," retorted Jay.

"If they are all away," declared Carcajou, "I'm going to have another peep at that chimney. Also there are three debts to be paid."

The Bird chuckled. "Generous Little Lieutenant! leave my account out. But if you must go to the Shack, I'll keep watch and give you a call if I see them coming back."

"Fat-eating! but I hate climbing," grunted Wolverine, as he struggled up the over-reaching log-ends at one corner of the Shack. "If they had only left the door open--I never close the door of my Burrow."

He went down the chimney as though it were a ladder, his back braced against one side, and his strong curved claws holding in the dry mud of the other. Inside of the Shack he worked with exceeding diligence, deporting himself much after the manner of soldiers looting a King's palace.

Three bags of flour stood in a corner. "That's queer stuff," muttered Carcajou, ripping open the canvas. "Dry Eating!" and he scattered it with malignant fury. He pattered up and down in it, rolled in it, and generally had a pleasing, dusty time. The white stuff got in his throat and made him cough; the tickling developed a proper inebriate's thirst. Two zinc pails, full of water, sat on a wooden bench; the choking Animal perched on the edge of one, and tried to drink; but as he stooped over the spreading top his centre of gravity was disarranged somewhat, and his venture ended disastrously. The floor was clay, smooth-ironed by Francis's feet, so it held the fluid like a pot, and, incidentally, much batter of Wolverine's mixing was originated. He was still thirsty, and tried the other pail. That even did not last so long, for, as he was pulling himself up, somewhat out of temper, it tumbled heedlessly from the bench, and converted the Shack-floor into a white, alkaline-looking lake.

Then he puddled around in batter which clung to his short legs, and stuck to his toe-hairs, trying to get a drink from little pools, but only succeeding in getting something like liquid pancakes.

The stuff worked into his coat, and completely put to flight any feelings of restraint he might have had. A cyclone and an earthquake working arm in arm could not have more effectually disarranged the internal economy of Francois's residence.

Like most Half-breeds Francois played a concertina; and like most of his fellow tribesmen he hung up his things on the bed or floor. It was under the bed that Carcajou discovered the instrument, and when he had finished with it, it might have been put in paper boxes and sold as matches. Two feather pillows provided him with enthusiastic occupation for a time; mixed with batter the feathers entirely lost their elasticity, and refused to float about in the air. This puzzled the marauder--he couldn't understand it; for you see he knew nothing of specific gravity.

A jug of molasses was more rational--but it added to his thirst, also turned the white coat he had evolved from the flour-mixture into a dismal coffee colour.

Great Animals! but he was having a time. Whisky-Jack, from his post outside, kept encouraging him from time to time, as the din of things moving rapidly in the interior came to his delighted ears. "Bravo! What's broken?" he screamed, when the pail met with its downfall. The blankets dried the floor a bit after industrious little Wolverine had hauled them up and down a few times. This evidently gave him satisfaction, for he worked most energetically.

Two sides of fat bacon reclined sleepily under the bed--a mouthful filled Carcajou with joy. Great Eating! but if he had that much food in his Burrow he needn't do a stroke of work all Winter. He tried to carry a side up the chimney; and got started with it all right, for an iron bar had been built across the mud fire-place to hang pots on, which gave him a foothold; a little higher up he slipped, and clattered down, bacon and all, burning his feet in coals that lingered from the morning's fire. The sight of disturbed cinders floating from the chimney-top intimated to Jack what had happened, and he whistled with joy.

This was an excuse for another round of demolition. "If I could only open the Shack," thought Wolverine. Though a dweller in caves, yet he knew which was the door, for over its ill-fitting threshold came a strong glint of light; also up and down its length ran two cracks through which came more light. Most certainly it was the door, he decided, sniffing at the fresh air that whistled through the openings.

Close by stood a box on end, holding a wash-bowl. Carcajou climbed up on this, and examined a little iron thing that seemed to bear on the subject. It was somewhat like a Trap; if he could spring this thing, perhaps it had something to do with opening the door. As he fumbled at it, suddenly the wind blew a big square hole in the Shack's side; he had lifted the latch, only he didn't know it was a latch, of course--it was like a Trap, something to be sprung, that was all.

"By all the Loons!" screamed Jay; "now you're all right--what's inside? You have had your revenge, Carey, old Boy," he added, as he caught sight of his coffee-coloured friend.

Carcajou paid no attention to his volatile Comrade, for he was busily engaged in gutting the place. "My fingers are still sore from the Man's Trap," he muttered, "but I think I can cache this Fat-eating."

"Francois will trail you," declared the Bird.

"He may do that," admitted Wolverine, "but he'll not find the Eating. Has he a scent-nose of the Woods to see it through many covers of snow?"

"This is just lovely!" piped Jack, hopping about in the dough; "it's like the mud at White Clay River. Butter!" he screamed in delight, perching on the edge of a wooden firkin, off which his friend had knocked the top. "I just love this stuff--it puts a gloss on one's feathers. We are having our revenge, aren't we, old Plaster-coat?"

"I am--Whe-e-e-cugh!" cried the fat little desperado, coughing much flour from his clogged lungs.

"I say, Hunchback, wouldn't you like to be a Man, and have all these things to eat, without the eternal worry of stealing them? I should--I'd be eating butter all the time;" and Jack drove his beak with great rapidity into the firkin's yellow contents.

"I'll return in a minute after I've cached this," said Wolverine, as he backed out of the Shack dragging a big piece of bacon.

"Oh, my strong Friend of much Brain, please cache this wooden-thing of Yellow-eating for me," pleaded Jay, when Carcajou reappeared. "By the Year of Famine! but it's delicious--it must be great for a Singer's throat. Did I ever tell you how I was sold once at Wapiscaw over a bit of butter?"

"No, my guzzling Friend--nor would you now, if you didn't want me to do a favour," grunted the industrious toiler, rolling Whisky-Jack's tub of butter off into the Forest.

"Well, it was this way--I saw a cake of this Yellow-eating in the Factor's Shack; you know the square holes they leave for light--it was in one of those. I swooped down and tried to drive my beak into it--"

"Like the hot pork," interrupted the tub-roller.

"Never mind, Carey, old Boy,--let by-gones be by-gones--I dove my beak fair at the Yellow Thing, and, would you believe it, nearly broke my neck against something hard which was between me and the Eating--I couldn't see it, though."

"Ha, ha, he-e-e-e-!" laughed Carcajou. "You bone-headed Bird--that was glass--Man's glass--they put it in those holes to keep the frost, Whisky-Jacks, and other evil things out--I know what it is. There! now your Yellow-eating is safe--Francois won't find it," he added, pushing snow against the log under which lay the hidden firkin. "I wish you would fly and bring Rof and some of the other Fellows--tell them I'm giving a Feast-dance; make them hurry up, for the Men will be back before long."

"Oh, Carey, they'll guzzle my butter," replied the Bird.

"They won't find it. Tell the Red Widow to come and get a piece of this Fat-eating for the King. Fly like the wind. I'll have everything out of the Shack, and you must tell Blue Wolf and the others to come and help me carry it to the Meeting Place."

"Look here, Giver-of-the-Feast," said Jack, struck by a new thought, "what about The Boy? If you take all the food, he'll starve before they get to the Landing for more. We must remember our promise to Mooswa."

"That's so," replied Carcajou; "I'll leave enough Fish and Dry-eating to carry them out of the Boundaries; strange, though, that _you_ should have thought of The Boy--hast forgotten the hot pork?"

"Neither have I forgotten my word to Mooswa," said the Bird, as he flew swiftly to summon the others to the feast.

Wolverine rounded up his day's work by caching the granite-ware dishes and rolling an iron pot down the bank, and into the water hole. At Carcajou's pot-latch there was rare hilarity.

"I'm proud of you, old Cunning," Blue Wolf said, patronizingly, as he sat with distended stomach licking the fat from his wire-haired mustache. "If anything should happen Black King, which Wiesahkechack forbid! we could not do better than make you our next Ruler. I have made a few good steals in my time, but never anything like this. To be able to give a Tea Dance of this sort! Ghur-r-r!" he gurgled in satisfaction, and rubbed his head and neck along Wolverine's plump side affectionately, as a dog caresses a man's leg.

"Not only wise, but so generous!" Lynx said, oilily, for he too had eaten of the salted fat. "To remember one's Friends in the Day of Plenty is truly noble; I shall never forget this kind invitation."

"Cheek!" muttered Jack, for he had not invited Pisew at all--had purposely left him out of the general call; but Lynx, always craftily suspicious, seeing a movement on among some of the Animals, had followed up and discovered the barbecue.

"I haven't eaten a meal like this since the year before the Big Fire," murmured the Red Widow, reminiscently. "Easy Catching! but the Birds were thick that year--and fat and lazy. 'Crouk, Crouk!' they'd say, when one walked politely with gentle tread amongst them, stretch their heads up, and patter a little out of the way with their short, feathered legs--actually not attempt to fly. But I never expect to see a year like that again," she sighed, regretfully. "Excuse me for mentioning it; but this fulness in my stomach has suggested the general condition of that time. The King will be delighted to have this nice, fat back-piece that I'm taking home to him. He did well to make you Lieutenant, Carcajou--you are a brainy Boundary Dweller. By my family crest, the White Spot at the end of my Tail, I'll never forget this kindness."

"Hear, hear!" cried Whisky-Jack; "you make the snub-nosed Robber blush. I had no idea how popular you were, Crop-ear. I've a notion to bring out the--Goodness!" he muttered to himself; "I nearly gave it away. Friendship is friendship, but butter is butter, and harder to get."

"Bring out what?" asked Pisew.

"The Castoreum, Prying-Cat," glibly answered Jay, cocking his head down and sticking out his tongue at Lynx.

"I remember the year you speak of, Good Widow; I also was fat that Fall," said Marten.

"So was I," declared Wuchak, the Fisher--"never had to climb a tree to get my dinner for months."

"It was the Fifth Year of the Wapoos," enjoined Pisew, "and we Animal Eaters were all fat. Why, my paw was the size of Panther's--I took great pride in the trail I left."

"Extraordinary taste!" remarked Jack, "to feel proud of your big feet. Now, if in the Year of Plenty you had run a little to brain--"

"Never mind, Jack," interrupted Blue Wolf, good-humouredly, for the feast-fulness made him well disposed toward all creatures, "we can't all be as smart as you are, you know. Tired jaws! I believe I don't care for any dessert," he continued, sniffing superciliously at a rib-bone Wolverine pushed toward him. But he picked it up, broke it in two with one clamp of his vise-like teeth, and swallowed the knuckle end. "Even if one is full," he remarked, giving a little gulp as it hitched in his throat, "a morsel of bone or something at the finish of the meal seems to top it off, and aids digestion."

"I take mine just as it comes, bone and meat together," declared Otter.

"So do I," affirmed Mink, for they had been given a great ration of Fish as their share of the banquet. Carcajou had purloined it from the Shack with his other loot.

"I must say that I like fresh Fish better than dried," declared Nekik to his companion, Mink; "but with the streams almost frozen to the bottom, and the stupid Tail-swimmers buried in the mud, one cannot be too thankful for anything in the way of Eating. The wealthiest one in all the Boundaries is old Umisk, the Beaver; he's got miles on miles of food that can't run away from him."

"Oh, I never could stand a vegetarian diet," grunted Carcajou. "I do eat Berries and Roots when Meat is scarce, but, taking it all round, you'll find that the brainiest, cleverest, most active Fellows in the Boundaries are the Flesh-eaters. Look at old Mooswa--good enough Chap; big and strong, too, in a way, but Safe-trails! what can he do? Nothing but trot, trot, trot, and try to rustle that big head-gear of his through the bush. Did you ever see a Flesh-eater have to run around with a small horn-forest on his head in the way of protection? Never! they don't run to horns--they run to brains."

"And teeth," added Blue Wolf, curling his upper lip and baring ivory fangs the length of a man's finger to the admiring gaze of his friends.

"I eat Meat," chirped Whisky-Jack, "and I don't run to horns or teeth either, so it must all go to brains, I suppose. Lucky for you fellows, too."

"No, Wise Bird," began Lynx, "you don't need horns or teeth to defend yourself; your tongue, like Sikak's tail, keeps everybody away."

"Let's go home," grunted Wolverine; "I'm so full I can hardly walk."

"I'll give you a ride on my back, generous Benefactor," smirked Pisew.

"He thinks you have cached some of the bacon," sneered Jack; "he'll be full of gratitude while the pork lasts."

Soon the Boundaries were silent, for full-stomached animals sleep well.

While there was feasting in the Boundaries there was much desolation in the Shack. Francois and The Boy had returned late to their wrecked home, and the Trapper's speech when he saw the debris, was something of wondrous entanglement, for an excited French Half-breed has a vocabulary all his own, and our friend was excited in the superlative degree. He knew it was Carcajou who had robbed him, for there were plaster casts of his brazen foot all over the mortar-like floor.

"We can't go to de new trap-place dis way," the Half-breed said; "we don' got no grub, de dis' he's gone, an' de poison, an' it jes' look like de Debil he's put bad Medicine on us himself. You stay here one week alone if I go me de Lan'ing?" he asked Rod. "I mus' get de flour, more bacon, some trap, an' de strykeen. I take me de dog-train for bring de grub stake. You jes' stop on de S'ack, an' when I come back we go down to Hay Riber."

It was late enough when Francois fell into a fitful troubled slumber, for the occasion demanded much recrimination against animals in general, and Carcajou in particular.

Whatever chance Francois might have had of discovering Carcajou's cache next morning, was that night utterly destroyed by a fall of snow.

PISEW STEALS THE BOY'S FOOD

In the morning, Francois, taking his loaded snake-whip, hammered the Huskie dogs into a submission sufficient to permit of their being harnessed; put a meagre ration for four days in the carryall, tied on his snow-shoes, and said to Roderick: "I go for pull out now, Boy; I s'pose t'ree day I make me de Lan'ing. I stop dere one day, hit de back-trail den, an' come de S'ack here wid de grub stake in fo'r more. You got grub lef for dat long, soor. Bes' not go far from de S'ack; de Blue Wolf he migh' come roun' dis side wit' hes Pack--bes' stick close de S'ack."

[Illustration: "I GO FOR PULL OUT NOW, BOY."]

Then he slipped down the long-terraced river-bank with his train, and started up the avenue of its broad bosom toward The Landing.

With rather a dreary feeling of lonesomeness Rod watched him disappear around the first long, Spruce-covered point, then went back into the Shack and whistled to keep the mercury of his spirits from congealing.

Other eyes had seen Francois wind around the first turn that shut him out from Rod's vision: Blue Wolf's eyes; the little bead eyes of Carcajou; the shifting, treacherous, cat-like orbs of Pisew, the Lynx. Mooswa's big almond eyes blinked solemnly from a thicket of willow that lined the river bank.

"I wonder if he'll bring the same Huskies back in his train?" said Blue Wolf, as they returned through the Boundaries together.

"I should think he would," ventured Mooswa.

"Don't know about that," continued Rof, "these Breeds have no affection for their Dogs, nor anything else but their own Man-Cubs. They do like them, I must say. Why, I've heard one of them, a big, rough Man he was too, cry every night for Moons because of the death of his Cub. He was as savage as any Wolf, though, for he killed another Man in a fight just at that time, and thought no more of it than I did over killing a Sheep at Lac La Biche. But every night he howled, and moaned, and whimpered for his lost Cub, just as a Mother Wolf might when her young are trapped, or stricken with the breath of the Firestick, or killed in a Pack-riot. Yes, they're queer, the Men," he mused in a low growl. "When Francois goes to The Landing, if one of the other Breeds stumps him for a trade, he'll swap off the whole Train."

"I'm sure he'll stick to Marsh Maid," declared Pisew; "she'll be back again all right, Brother Rof." Blue Wolf looked sheepishly at Mooswa. What a devil this Lynx was to read his thoughts like that.

"I hope nothing will happen Francois, for the sake of The Boy," wheezed Mooswa. "These Breed Men also forget everything when the fire-water, that makes them like mad Bulls, is in camp; it is always at The Landing too," he muttered, despondently. "When I was a Calf at the Fort, I heard the old Factor say--I think I've told you about that time--"

"Yes, yes," interrupted Carcajou impatiently, for he was a quick-thinking little Animal, "what did the Factor say about these Breed Men?"

"I'm coming to that," asserted Mooswa, ponderously. "It was at the time I was a Calf in the Fort Corral, and the Factor, who was my Boy's father, said that a Breed would sell his Soul for a gallon of this Devil-water that puts madness in their blood."

"What's a Soul?" asked Carcajou. "I wonder if I smashed Francois's in the Shack."

"I don't know," answered Mooswa; "it's something Man has, but which we haven't--it's the thing that looks out of their eyes and makes us all turn our heads away. Even Rof there, who stands up against Cougar without flinching, drops his head when Man looks at him--is that not so, brave Comrade?"

"It is," answered Blue Wolf, dragging his tail a little.

"And a Breed will trade this thing for fire-water?" queried Carcajou.

"So the Factor said," answered the Moose.

"I wouldn't if I had it," declared Wolverine--"not even for the Fat-eating, and that is good for one. Was it that which made Wiesahkechack King of Men and Animals, and everything, when he was here--this Soul thing?" he asked pantingly, for the easy stride of his long-legged comrades made his lungs pump fast.

"I suppose so," replied Mooswa; "but if Francois gets fire-water at The Landing, I'm afraid it will be ill with The Boy. But, Comrades, you all remember your oath to me and the King, that for the Man-Cub shall be our help, and our care, and not the blood-feud that is against Man, because of his killing."

"I remember," cried Blue Wolf.

"And I," answered Pisew.

"I never forget anything," declared Carcajou. "When my paws ached because of Francois, I laid up hate against him; and when Black King's leg was lost because of this evil Man's Trap the hate grew stronger; but by the Bars on my Flanks do I bear not hate against The Boy, and bear the promise given to you, Mooswa."