Three Boys in the Wild North Land

by Egerton Ryerson Young

“All right,” said the Indian, in answer to Frank’s request, “but be sure and kill two with your bullet.”

Simultaneously there rang out the double report, and four wolves fell dead, while the others, terrified by this attack, so unexpected and so close, fled away toward the distant forest.

After seeing that the wolves did not stop in their flight, it did not take Frank and his Indian companion long to reach a position where the herd of deer could again be seen. Frank was delighted to observe that, although they seemed to be somewhat startled by the distant report of the guns, they had not broken their formation, but were more quickly hurrying away. To skin the four wolves and return with their pelts to the camp was all the sport they had, or wanted, for that day.

At first Alec was inclined to boast of a more successful day in reindeer hunting, but when he heard the whole story he was willing to admit that perhaps, after all, Frank’s had been the nobler experience.

Sam’s characteristic comments were:

“Man, but I would have liked to have had a crack at that great leader! But, after all, I think I would have preferred to have had the satisfaction of knocking over a couple more of those dirty, thievish, murdering wolves.”

One more great excursion was arranged ere they returned, and that was to a large lake to which watchers had been sent some days before.

A couple of days after Frank and Alec had had the adventures with reindeer, these watchers returned with word that the deer were numerous on the shores of the lake, and were often seen swimming out in its water. The two days’ rest in the camp had been much needed and enjoyed. Now all were fresh and eager to be off again.

Very little time is lost in breaking up a camp when once it is decided to move, and so in a short time the canoes, propelled by the paddles in the hands of the stalwart Indians, were dancing over the sunlit waves to their next destination, some twenty miles away. Here they found the Indians who had been sent as scouts or watchers had already returned and prepared a cozy camp for their reception. A dinner of venison, bear’s meat, and ducks was ready for them, and after the score of miles of paddling—for the boys always insisted on each doing his share—they were all, with good appetites, ready to do ample justice to the hunter’s fare.

As the anticipated sport would be exciting, and was generally considered to be more successful in the forenoons, it was decided to keep quiet that afternoon and evening. So the guns were all cleaned and oiled and many pipes of tobacco were smoked by the Indians, while the boys wandered along the shores and enjoyed the sights of that picturesque land. Just a little before sunset they had a display of colour such as is seldom given to mortals to see upon this earth of ours. In the west there floated a cloud that seemed to hang in the sky like a great prism. Beyond it the sun in his splendour was slowly settling down toward the horizon. Through this prism-like cloud there were reflected and settled upon the waters all the colours of the rainbow. Every dancing wave seemed at times to be of the deepest crimson, then they all seemed like molten gold, then they were quickly transformed into some other gorgeous hue, until the whole lake seemed literally ablaze with dazzling colours.