The herd, abandoning their dying companion, dashed frantically to the shore; and the young hunters, elated by their success, suffered them to make good their landing without further molestation. Wolfe, at a signal from his master, ran in the quarry, and Louis declared exultingly that as his last arrow had given the coup de grace, he was entitled to the honour of cutting the throat of the doe; but this the stern Highlander protested against, and Louis, with a careless laugh, yielded the point, contenting himself with saying, "Ah well, I will get the first steak of the venison when it is roasted, and that is far more to my taste." Moreover, he privately recounted to Catharine the important share he had had in the exploit, giving her, at the same time, full credit for the worthy service she had performed in withstanding the landing of the herd. Wolfe, too, came in for a large share of the honour and glory of the chase.
The boys were soon hard at work skinning the animal and cutting it up. This was the most valuable acquisition they had yet effected, for many uses were to be made of the deer besides eating the flesh. It was a store of wealth in their eyes.
During the many years that their fathers had sojourned in the country, there had been occasional intercourse with the fur-traders and trappers, and sometimes with friendly-disposed Indians who had called at the lodges of their white brothers for food and tobacco.
From all these men, rude as they were, some practical knowledge had been acquired; and their visits, though few and far between, had left good fruit behind them—something to think about and talk about and turn to future advantage.
The boys had learned from the Indians how precious were the tough sinews of the deer for sewing. They knew how to prepare the skins of the deer for moccasins, which they could cut out and make as neatly as the squaws themselves. They could fashion arrow-heads, and knew how best to season the wood for making both the long and cross bow. They had seen the fish-hooks these people manufactured from bone and hard wood. They knew that strips of fresh-cut skins would make bowstrings, or the entrails of animals dried and rendered pliable. They had watched the squaws making baskets of the inner bark of the oak, elm, and bass-wood, and mats of the inner bark of the cedar, with many other ingenious works that they now found would prove useful to them, after a little practice had perfected their inexperienced attempts. They also knew how to dry venison as the Indians and trappers prepare it, by cutting the thick fleshy portions of the meat into strips from four to six inches in breadth and two or more in thickness. These strips they strung upon poles supported on forked sticks, and exposed them to the drying action of the sun and wind. Fish they split open, and removed the back and head bones, and smoked them slightly, or dried them in the sun.
Their success in killing the doe greatly raised their spirits; in their joy they embraced each other, and bestowed the most affectionate caresses on Wolfe for his good conduct.
"But for this dear, wise old fellow, we should have had no venison for dinner to-day," said Louis; "and so, Wolfe, you shall have a choice piece for your own share."
Every part of the deer seemed valuable in the eyes of the young hunters. The skin they carefully stretched out upon sticks to dry gradually, and the entrails they also preserved for bow-strings. The sinews of the legs and back they drew out and laid carefully aside for future use.
"We shall be glad enough of these strings by-and-by," said careful Hector; "for the summer will soon be at an end, and then we must turn our attention to making ourselves winter clothes and moccasins."
"Yes, Hec, and a good warm shanty. These huts of bark and boughs will not do when once the cold weather sets in."