MIKE'S BEAR TRAP
WORK and play went quickly after the holidays and February soon arrived with the timber-men working harder than ever to get out all the logs possible before the thaw set in. Just as soon as the thaw sets in in the northern woods, the roads become almost impassable and ice starts to break up. The river overflows its banks and carries everything before it.
The river that was expected to flood and carry down the logs of the Manitoba Lumber Company generally drove them into a large lagoon where the saw-mills belonging to the company stood.
February was a short month, but the weather held good so that the men got out more timber that month than in January. The banks of the river were completely hidden under immense roll-ways of pine logs, so arranged that the moment the water rose the logs lying in the edge of the water would float out and that would gradually roll the entire mass of lumber into the water.
The first few days in March were very warm, and cracklings of ice could be heard distinctly through the woods. The men feared that work for the season was over, for, with the thaw, the work of hauling timber would have to cease. Still, they hoped that a period of cold would come on top of the thaw and that would just about permit them to finish the area of forest timber that had been mapped out in the Fall.
Mike had decided to abandon his trip to the North Woods for hunting and trapping, for he figured out that he could make more money by accepting the bosses' offer. This money was clear profit and he could put it in the bank at Winnipeg to await his old age when he could work no more.
But Mike set traps and did some hunting about the woods and kept the camp supplied with game and venison. He had one large trap set several miles from camp, but as yet had not caught anything in it.
The day before the warm spell set in, Mike sniffed the air and took note of various signs in the woods that told him a thaw was on the road. Consequently he knew that, if it was of a long enough period of time, many of the animals that sleep during the winter months would be tempted to come out and look about.
Finding nothing to eat, they would be led to seek farther afield, for they would be hungry after a long sleep.
Mike loped over to his traps that afternoon, and, having found the large one in good order, he baited it and arranged it so deftly that not one bit of the iron showed through the twigs and leaves.
As he expected, the thaw began that night and the temperature became higher each day until the trees seemed about to burst into blossom.
Mike didn't visit the trap the first day of the thaw, but on the afternoon of the second day he hurried out to cross the forest in the direction of his traps. Halfway there, he stopped and looked at some tracks in the soft slushy snow.
"Ha! Mike in time for him. Him big bear. Him hungry an' come see camp, but smell meat in trap—ha!"
Mike followed the tracks eagerly and found they led him almost directly to the place where his long-waited-for prize was caught.
The bear was exhausted from struggling to escape from the trap and Mike soon put an end to her pain with a rifle-bullet.
She was an immense black bear which must have come some distance for food. Mike looked her over carefully and nodded his head with understanding as he spoke to himself while loosing the spring on the trap.
"Her got cubs at home in her cave. Her hungly an' hunt eats for her babbies. Mike mus' hunt for babbies an' carry home to feed."
The trap was set again, and with satisfaction that his whole winter was not wasted in a civilized life—proof—the bear he was dragging back to camp—Mike appeared at the clearing just as the children wondered what had become of their play-mate.
Mike dragged the improvised carrier made of boughs, with the black bear laid out upon them, into the camp where everyone gathered to behold the trophy of the Indian's trap. They felt of the thick fur, the still warm nose, and examined the sharp claws that could be so cruel.
"My, but she's a big one, Mike!" said Mr. Latimer.
"Humph! Her got two cubs—home. Mike mus' go fin' 'em now. Babbies hungly an' got no eats. Babbies starve."
The bear was taken to a place under the trees back of the Cookee's cabin, and Mike filled his belt with ammunition and saw to it that his rifle was in perfect order, for he might meet with opposition from some hungry animals on his way to find the cave.
Cookee packed a good kit of food for Mike, and, strapping this, with a blanket, upon his back, he started off on his quest. The children stood mournfully watching him disappear through the thick forest, then turned their attention to planning what to do with the little bears.
"Wish I could have gone with him," said Paul.
"Me too! What's the use of spending a winter in Canada if you have to snoop around camp all the time," added Meredith.
Mike found the tracks of the bear where he had first seen them, and followed them closely.
That night, Mike made camp out in the open forest, and heard enough beasts prowling about his fire during the night to prove that they had not all been frightened away.
Early in the morning, after a hasty breakfast, Mike picked up the tracks again and kept on going until the steep cliffs of the mountain were reached. Here he became very watchful, for at any moment a panther or bear might pounce upon him.
Mike was prepared to battle with the mate of the old she-bear if necessary, but he thought it likely that the bear had followed his mate, in search of food for the cubs. If he had, he would most likely get caught in the trap also. If he was about the cave, Mike would have his hands full in smoking him out, or in watching for him and shooting him when he found him.
The trapper surely was favored that day, for he soon found the trail that led to a large cave in the side of the cliffs, and after careful investigation, found that tracks of both bears led down the mountain side, but that none returned. He lit a torch of resinous wood and crept carefully toward the cave.
He looked all about and laid his ear to the ground to ascertain if anything were approaching. Finding all quiet, except a faint rustle of leaves in the cave, Mike poked the long pole, with the torch at the end, ahead of him into the cave.
After following the winding tunnel for some yards, he suddenly came out into an open space about seven feet wide, and five feet high in the middle. He had to stoop to get in and, when his eyes grew accustomed to the circle of light thrown upon the walls of the cave, he saw two fat little cubs curled up in a bed of dried leaves and twigs. He planted the torch against the wall and turning over one little cub he found they were both fast asleep—probably had not yet opened their eyes since they were born. As Mike had to bring both away to keep them from starving, he slung his rifle over his back and took a little cub under each arm. He started out of the cave very carefully, on guard against the old fellow who might come in at any time. But there was no obstacle to his getting down the side of the mountain quickly and along the trail by which he came.
The little cubs shivered slightly and curled up closer to Mike's side, and he chuckled over them as he thought of the surprise they would receive at camp.
Mike avoided the trail after he reached familiar woods and struck off across the forest for camp. His gun had to be slung upright at his back to permit his passage between trees, but he soon came out upon the road-cut and then it was easy walking The fat little cubs felt heavy before Mike reached camp and Mike was only too thankful to deposit them in his bunk at the little cabin which he called his own.
He tried to waken the furry balls by pulling their ears and rolling them over and over, but they snoozed on as peacefully as if cuddled by their old mother's paws.
Mike had been gone from camp two days, and the children were not yet aware of his presence, but Cookee saw him lope across the clearing and enter his cabin.
"Cookee, give us some crackers?" asked Don, as Dot and he rushed into the kitchen after the cook.
"Crackers! what fer? to feed Mike?" teased Cookee.
"Mike? No, for ourselves. Wish Mike was back, though, 'cause Paul said the other old bear might kill him."
"Mike's back—I saw him go in his cabin a few minutes ago," said Cookee, turning to take some crackers from a jar.
He turned again to hand them to the twins but laughed when he found them gone—running for all they were worth to Mike's cabin.
"Funny lil' critters! An' don' they just love Mike!" said the cook to himself, as he started to roll out the biscuit dough.
"Hello, Mike! when did you get back?" cried both Don and Dot as they rushed into the cabin.
Without waiting for an answer, both children saw the two furry balls on the bunk and stepped softly over, to see what they were.
"Oh, the cuties! what are they, Mike?" cried Dot.
"Cubs; old bear's babbies!" said Mike, smiling at the twins as they hugged and cuddled the cubs.
"Oh, Mike! they will never grow up to hurt anyone, will they?" asked Dot, doubtfully.
"No siree! 'cause we are goin' to keep 'em and train 'em to be as good as a Newfoundland dog," said Don.
"But they are Mike's bears," said Dot.
"But Mike will give 'em to us, if we love 'em," replied Don.
"Dat's what dey for!" said Mike.
"Oh, oh! Look Mike, see this little one stick out his tiny pink tongue," shouted Dot, excitedly.
"Him hungly! Mike git dinner!"
So, leaving Don and Dot to watch the cubs, Mike went to the cook's cabin and hunted for a bottle with a slender neck. With a red-hot wire he bored a small hole through a cork and, after filling the bottle with diluted condensed milk and oatmeal gruel, he drove the cork into the neck. He wrapped the bottle inside his coat and hurried over to the cabin with it.
The ladies and the other children had been called to the exhibition by Don, after Mike went to the kitchen, and all of them were delighted over the dear little fur-balls. Lavinia held one of the soft, velvety paws in her hands smiling at the tiny toes and pink skin underneath. Suddenly, however, the cub stretched and from the velvet paw there shot out five sharp nails, long enough to make the children gasp.
"Where does he hide them?" said Lavinia.
"Gee! I never thought bear babies had claws like that!" said Don, showing more respect for the cubs thereafter.
"Oh, Mike, what are you going to do?" asked everyone who had seen the bottle.
"Feed babbies," grinned Mike, as he opened a cub's mouth and stuck the bottle inside at an angle that would let the liquid run out—and in.
Immediately, the cub gulped and started sucking at the impromptu feeding bottle.
Mike watched the milk diminish and when the bottle was half empty he took it away and opened the other little cub's mouth for its food. The first one, being comfortably fed, rolled over and went on sleeping.
The second cub was the smaller of the two and could not drink the milk as rapidly as the sturdier one. Several times it choked and had to cough and sneeze, which made the children laugh delightedly, but Mike waited patiently until it had recovered breath.
"Mike, won't they wake up and play?" asked Dot.
"Him wake up, tree-four-five day!" replied Mike.
"Not before?" asked Don.
"Not before him eye open—'bout five day!" returned Mike.
Mike made a bed of balsam tips covered with an old buck-skin shirt.
The cubs were deposited upon the new bed and curled up close together, never missing their old home or realizing that they had a foster-mother. Mike fed them regularly, and the children found them a never-ending source of delight.