After these preparations were completed the Indians cleared the snow from the top of the beaver house, and then broke an opening into the house itself. Into this aperture Sishetakushin peered for a moment, then his hand shot down, and like a flash reappeared holding a beaver by the hind legs, and before the animal had recovered sufficiently from its surprise to bring its sharp teeth into action in self-defense, the Indian struck it a stinging blow over the head and killed it. Then in like manner another animal was captured and killed. It was dangerous work and called for agility and self-possession, for had the Indian made a miscalculation or been one second too slow the beaver's teeth, which crush as well as cut, would have severed his wrist or arm.
There were two more beavers—a male and a female—in the house, but these were left undisturbed to raise a new family, and the stakes that had closed the door were removed.
This method of catching beavers was quite new to Bob, who had always seen his father and the other hunters of the Bay capture them in steel traps. It was his first lesson in the Indian method of hunting.
That evening the flesh of the beavers went into the kettle, and their oily tails—the greatest tidbit of all—were fried in a pan. The Indians made a feast time of it, and never ceased eating the livelong night. This day of plenty came in cheerful contrast to the cheerless nights with scanty suppers following the weary days of plodding that had preceded. The glowing fire in the centre, the appetizing smell of the kettle and sizzling fat in the pan, and the relaxation and mellow warmth as they reclined upon the boughs brought a sense of real comfort and content.
The next day they remained in camp and rested, but the following morning resumed the dreary march to the westward.
After many more days of travelling—Bob had lost all measure of time—they reached the shores of a great lake that stretched away until in the far distance its smooth white surface and the sky were joined. The Indians pointed at the expanse of snow-covered ice, and repeated many times, "Petitsikapau—Petitsikapau," and Bob decided that this must be what they called the lake; but the name was wholly unfamiliar to him. In like manner they had indicated that a river they had travelled upon for some distance farther back, after crossing a smaller lake, was called "Ashuanipi," but he had never heard of it before.
The wigwam was pitched upon the shores of Petitsikapau Lake, where there was a thick growth of willows upon the tender tops of which hundreds of ptarmigans—the snow-white grouse of the arctic—were feeding; and rabbits had the snow tramped flat amongst the underbrush, offering an abundance of fresh food to the hunters, a welcome change from the unvaried fare of dried venison.
Bob drew from the elaborate preparations that were made that they were to stop here for a considerable time. Snow was banked high against the skin covering of the wigwam to keep out the wind more effectually, an unusually thick bed of spruce boughs was spread within, and a good supply of wood was cut and neatly piled outside.
The women did all the heavy work and drudgery about camp, and it troubled Bob not a little to see them working while the men were idle. Several times he attempted to help them, but his efforts were met with such a storm of protestations and disapproval, not only from the men, but the women also, that he finally refrained.
"'Tis strange now th' women isn't wantin' t' be helped," Bob remarked to himself. "Mother's always likin' t' have me help she."