Three Boys in the Wild North Land, Egerton Ryerson Young [best large ereader txt] 📗

All this time the drumming and the conjuring had continued with all their accompaniments of howls and shrieks.

In a short time a shrill, low whistle, like the call of some bird, was heard, and Mr Ross observed that it was from the lips of the old Indian who had pretended to examine the bullet with such awe, but who had in reality exchanged it for a perfectly harmless one. He and the conjurer were associates in their trickery. The bullet had been made in this way: A pair of bullet moulds had been heated quite hot, and then some bear's fat, which is like lard, had been put inside of them. Holding the moulds shut, and placing them in very cold water, they kept turning them around until the melted fat had hardened into a thin shell exactly the size of a bullet. Then a small puncture was made through this thin casing of fat, and the interior carefully filled up with fine sand. It was not difficult then to stop up the orifice with a little fat. It was then carefully coloured like a bullet, and at a distance could hardly be distinguished from one. When put in a gun and well pounded with a ramrod, of course, it would break all to pieces, and when fired at anything like an ordinary distance for ball firing would be perfectly harmless.

But Mr Ross's cleverness had been too much for the rogues, and so he had changed the bogus affair for a genuine bullet of lead. To his servant, who was to fire, he explained exactly how matters were, and had said to him:

"Do not kill the rascal, but give him a wound that will forever stop his boastings, and break his power over the poor deluded hundreds, who firmly believe he can do what he has so boastfully declared."

The low, shrill whistle call had made a great change upon the conjurer in the tent. He was now all boastfulness, and his cries were like the shouts of triumph:

"Waters cannot drown me; bullets cannot pierce me; fires cannot burn me."

"Are you sure you are ready?" said Mr Ross.

Shouting his defiance, the conjurer came out from the tent, and walking to a place where he knew the fine sand in the bullet of bear's grease would not hurt him, he boldly stood up, and stretching out his hands defied the shooter to do his best.

"You are sure, are you, that bullets will not hurt you?" said Mr Ross.

Very haughty was the conjurer's reply. Then said Mr Ross again; "If you are hurt, no one will be to blame."

"No, indeed," was the conjurer's reply, "for I have given the challenge, and my familiar spirit has told me that the bullets cannot pierce me."

"If you are struck, then you will give up your conjuring, and go and hunt for your own living, like other people?"

He hesitated for a moment, but the low, shrill whistle was once more heard, and so he fairly shouted out:

"If bullets can pierce me I will forever give up my conjuring, and destroy my magic drum and medicine bag."

"All right," said Mr Ross; then, turning to his servant, he said, "Now, Baptiste, fire!"

Taking deliberate aim, the man fired, and, as the report rang out, from one of the uplifted hands of the conjurer who was standing about fifty yards away--there fell a finger, as neatly cut off by the bullet as though a surgeon's knife had done the work.

With a howl of rage and pain most decidedly un-Indian-like, the conjurer began dancing about, much to the amusement of the boys, who a moment before were pale with pent-up excitement; for it is rather trying to look on and see in the hands of a skillful marksman a gun loaded with ball and pointed at this boastful man, who was willing to put his magic against the skill of the finest shot of the country.

Much to the surprise of all but Mr Ross and one or two others who saw through the trick, the old fellow, with his wounded hand still profusely bleeding, rushed over to his confederate and began abusing him most thoroughly for having deceived him. This attack the man resented, and a first-class quarrel was the result. Around them gathered numbers of Indians, and in the mutual recriminations of these two the truth came out, and the people saw that they had long been deluded by a pair of impostors. From that, day they were discredited men, and never after regained any power or influence.

That evening Mr Ross explained to the boys the whole affair. He showed them the bogus bullet, and explained to them how it was made. The boys admitted that it was a clever trick, and were not satisfied until they had made several of them in the manner described.

Thus ended their first and last experience with Indian conjurers, and it thoroughly convinced them that they are only cunning impostors.


CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

OUTING--ALEC AND MUSTAGAN'S SHOOTING CONTEST, OR GUN VERSUS BOW AND ARROW-SHOOTING THE SWANS--WAS SAM CROSS-EYED?--THE RETURN TRIP--THE ESCAPE OF THE DOE AND FAWN FROM THE WOLF.

As Mr Ross had quite recovered, it was resolved to go again on an extended trip to the country in the region of Montreal Point, and have some hunting in that section of country. Some Indian hunters had come in from that place, and reported the entire absence of wolves. This was not to be wondered at, on account of the number that had been shot in the fierce conflict which there took place. It is also a fact well- known to wolf hunters that when a pack has been severely defeated the survivors at once retreat to some distant regions.

As the weather was very fine, Mrs Ross and the younger members of the family accompanied them as far as to the Old Fort. They travelled in a large and roomy canoe especially made for them. It was manned by four Indians, who were very proud of their charge. Frank and Sam, with an Indian hunter, occupied another canoe, while Mr Ross had with him Alec and Mustagan.

As the ducks and other gamy birds were numerous, they had some good shooting from their canoes as they paddled along. At times they were able to fire into large flocks, then again they tried their skill on a single bird as it rapidly flew by.

Said Mustagan to Alec: "You take gun, I take bow and arrow, and we see who shoot best."

"All right," said Alec, "I'll try."

So it was decided that when the next duck flew over them Alec was to try first. If he missed, Mustagan was to shoot, and thus they would alternately fire--first Alec, and then Mustagan; then Mustagan first, and then Alec. The one who killed five ducks or other game first was to be considered victor. Mr Ross, who entered heartily into the spirit of the contest, took the steering paddle while the white lad and the old Indian tried their skill. It was a contest between gun and powder _versus_ bow and arrow.

Soon a fine mallard duck came flying along. Alec let drive at it, and missed. Quick as a flash Mustagan's bow was up and his arrow sighted and sent after it with such accuracy that it caught it fairly under one of the wings, killing it instantly.

"The best shot I ever saw!" shouted Alec, in genuine admiration.

The head of Mustagan's arrow was the thigh bone of the wild swan, which is about solid, and makes a capital arrow head for duck shooting, as it is heavy, and can be made so sharp as to easily pierce the body of the game.

The next object was a solitary beaver sitting on a bank quite unconcerned. Mr Ross said afterward that in all probability it was an old, sullen fellow that had been driven away by the others from some distant beaver house, and had come and dug a burrow somewhere in that bank and was there living alone.

As it was Mustagan's turn to shoot first, he carefully selected his heaviest arrow, the head of which was a piece of barbed steel. Having examined the shaft to see that it was perfectly straight, he shot it with all his strength. No need for Alec to fire, for deep down into the skull of the animal had the steel head gone, instantly killing him. When it was lifted into the canoe Alec was surprised at the size of its tail, and more than amazed when told that it was one of the luxuries of the country. It was one of the favourite dishes of the supper that evening. The other luxuries, Mr Ross added, were the bear's paws and the moose's nose.

As they paddled on Mustagan suddenly shaded his eyes for a moment, then quickly said:

"Wap-i-sew! wap-i-sew!" ("Swans! swans!")

Word was quickly shouted to the other boats of their coming, and to try and shoot some of them if possible. Swans' feathers are much prized in that land for beds. Their meat, however, is not considered equal to that of the wild goose. As they fly with great rapidity they were not long in coming within range. There was a large flock of them, and they were flying, as they usually do, in a straight line. This flock must have risen up very recently, as they were not more than fifty feet above the water.

"I killed beaver. Your turn first now," said Mustagan to Alec. "But I fire just after you."

Alec had at Mr Ross's suggestion dropped a half dozen big buckshot in the barrel of his gun on the top of the charge of duckshot. The instant the first swan of the long straight line was in range he fired. To his amazement, while the first and second passed on unhurt, the third swan dropped suddenly into the water; and a second or two after another, about the twentieth in the line, also fell. Soon reports from other guns were heard, as the friends in the other canoes in the rear fired, and Mrs Ross was delighted to have the feathers of six beautiful white swans to take home with her when she returned.

The most perplexed one in the party for the time being was Alec. Mr Ross had observed it, and half suspecting the cause asked what it was that was bothering him. His answer was:

"I cannot understand how it should have happened that when I aimed and fired at the first swan it and the second should pass on unhurt and the third fall dead."

He was very much surprised when Mr Ross explained that he had not calculated for the speed with which the wild swan flies. Although such a large and heavy bird, the swan flies with a rapidity excelled by very few. The wild ducks and geese are easily left behind by the beautiful and graceful swans.

When the swans were picked up the journey was resumed, and the friendly contest between Alec and Mustagan continued. Soon a large flock of ducks flew over them. It being Mustagan's turn he fired, and as his arrow returned it was in the heart of a splendid duck. Alec, watching his opportunity, fired where