The White Chief of the Ottawa

by Bertha Carr-Harris

Rousing the others, they seized their guns and followed the narrow path along the bank of the river in the direction whence the sound seemed to come. All was darkness—utter darkness. Suddenly there was a wild scream from the forest on the opposite bank. Its echoes had hardly ceased when it was answered by a similar cry from the trees above, followed by the same strange laugh. It proved to be the voice of the white-headed eagle calling to his mate.

What had become of Christie and the Colonel was the question which perplexed the mind of every man in the party. They called and called again, but there was no answer. They penetrated into the woods with lighted torches, but could find no trace of them. They discharged an old Queen Anne gun, which had the reputation of making the loudest report of any of the firearms in their possession, but there was no response.

At the first glimmer of daylight they organized a search-party, but not until late in the afternoon was suspense relieved by the return of the missing pair to the camp.

"We must have walked five miles," said the Colonel, "following the course of a small stream. On ascending a low hill we looked cautiously over its crest. Before us was a scene I shall never forget. Several huge animals were standing within range under a clump of willows, nibbling at their twigs. The tall, broad, palm-like antlers that rose from the head of one of them, the immense size and ungainly forms, the long legs and ass-like ears, the immense heads with overhanging lips, the short necks with their standing manes, left no doubt in my mind that they were moose, for I had never before seen one. They were all of a dark brown color, almost blackish in the distance, the large one being darker than the others.

"Christie handed me the gun, motioning me to move quietly. I must have lost my head, for all the first principles of moose-hunting slipped out of my mind, as I aimed at the high shoulders of the old bull, hoping to secure his antlers as a trophy. When I fired the doe and the fawn scrambled down hill towards the beaver-meadow below. I could see that the bull was not with them, and concluded that he was dead. Rushing forward without reloading my gun, to my great astonishment I found him on his knees, wounded. As soon as he saw me he rose to his full height, his eyes flashing fire, and lowering his horns in a forward position, he sprang at me. Dropping my gun I stepped behind a huge beech tree, the moose following close upon my heels. I had just time to get behind it when he rushed past, tearing the bark with his antlers. He turned and made another charge, only to find that I was in a safe position on the opposite side of the tree. Rushing up to the tree he struck it furiously with his horns, then with his hoofs, uttering loud snorts that were enough to intimidate even a military man. The disappointment which the enraged animal felt at seeing my escape added to his rage, and he vented his spite upon the tree until the trunk, to the height of six feet, was completely stripped of its bark. While this was going on I remained behind the tree, dodging round, always taking care to keep the infuriated brute on the opposite side. For over an hour this lasted. I was beginning to feel faint with fatigue. I could see that the bullet had hit the left shoulder, and, after tearing the skin, had glanced off."

"I remained behind the tree, dodging round."

"Where was Christie all the time?" interrupted the Chief. "Why did he not secure the gun?"

"On seeing the encounter I climbed a tree," said Christie. "It was the only thing I could do. I could not get hold of the gun, for it was under the feet of the moose. I could not have reached the ammunition, because the Colonel had it."