Marooned in the Forest: The Story of a Primitive Fight for Life

by A. Hyatt Verrill

He was snared by one hind foot. I knocked him over the head and, slinging him to the end of a pole, returned to my hut, well pleased with the hunt.

The next day I dug up his mate’s skin and, much to my delight, found the hair had started and the quills came away readily. The second skin was buried, and a few days later both were free of quills and hair, and after washing them in the lake I placed them in the bark liquor which I had prepared. Five days later I removed them, rinsed them off, and was immensely elated to find that they had assumed a rich brown tint and had been transformed to tough leather. Now that my mind had turned to tanning, I recalled many little details. Among other matters I recollected how the tanners worked the hides upon rounded timbers or horses, and, while I did not know the reason why this was done, I assumed it was an essential part of the tanning process, and so I placed the porcupines’ skins upon a fallen tree and worked at them diligently until they were thoroughly dried and all bits of adhering flesh and fat had been removed. The results of my labor were two soft, brown pieces of leather nearly two feet in length by a foot in width, and I felt immensely proud of my success at leathermaking. My only regret was that I could not find more of the prickly beasts, but, although I hunted diligently, I was forced to the conclusion that there were no more in the neighborhood.

The pain had now quite gone from my foot, but it was still impossible to use it. The slightest pressure upon it caused me excruciating torture and the ankle seemed to have no strength. I was terribly worried over it, for I feared I would never be able to use it again, and with only one good foot I dared not wander far from the cabin, for fear I might slip or fall and injure my good leg and thus be left helpless in the forest.

On one or two occasions I had hobbled off along the old trail for a mile or more, but it appeared to lead into the heart of the wilderness and I was convinced that if it led to the settlements it must be by a long and roundabout route.

The weather was now becoming very cold, frosts were of nightly occurrence, and once or twice a thin layer of ice skimmed the water at the edges of the pools. I suffered a great deal from the cold, hardened and accustomed as I was to exposure, and I knew that unless I made my way out of the forest or managed to invent some sort of covering for my body I would soon succumb to the weather.

Had I been able to secure enough porcupine-skins, or even rabbit-skins, I might have made some sort of garment, but both rabbits and porcupines were very scarce. I had snared and shot a number of partridges, and their skins, sewed together, I made into a vest-like garment, but the delicate skins tore apart with the least strain and I used the affair only when sleeping or sitting in the cabin.

The ragged, rotten old clothes which I had used as a quilt were some protection, but these soon gave out and I was faced with the serious problem of freezing to death or securing enough hides to make a covering for my nakedness. The chances seemed all in favor of freezing.

My shoes, or rather, my shoe—for I could use but one foot—had now worn through, and I determined to attempt making moccasins from the tough porcupine-hides. Fortunately I had seen Joe make moccasins, and after one or two trials I succeeded in producing a very serviceable form of foot-gear. I remembered that Joe always marked a pattern on the leather around his foot, but I did not feel sure how he gauged the size and, fearing to waste any of my valuable leather by a mistake, I hit upon the plan of ripping open my old shoe and using this for a pattern. Placing the split shoe, sole down, upon the porcupine-skin, I marked around it with a bit of charred stick and cut out the form with my knife. Then from the trimmings I cut tongues, as I had seen Joe do, and these I sewed to the uppers so that the latter were puckered, or gathered up, over the instep. Finally I sewed up the heels, cut string from the hides, and my first moccasin was complete.

All this occupied a great deal of time and labor and was far more difficult than it sounds, for my only tool was my knife, and as I worked slowly and clumsily with this I longed for an awl or needle. With my mind on such things I remembered that I had heard of Indians using bone needles, and I decided to try and make one with which to sew the other moccasin. There were plenty of bones at hand, and I selected several and commenced rubbing one upon a flat stone to grind it to a point.