Alec’s shout of triumph brought the Indians to him on the run, and they, in their quiet way, congratulated him on doing what but few white hunters have ever done—he had had the honour of shooting one of the largest wolverines that had been killed in the country for a long time.
While one of the Indians hurried across the tongue of land for the canoe and paddles it around to the camp, the rest of the party dragged the dead wolverine back to the scene of his depredations. Here they had an opportunity of seeing the destructiveness of this animal. Every pound of meat had been removed from the “cache,” and so cunningly hid away that not one piece could be found except the one which Alec had seen him hide as he watched him through his telescope, and this piece was so permeated by the offensive odour that it was worthless. Fortunately, the bearskin was none the worse for its overhauling. While waiting for the coming of the canoe the men set to work and speedily skinned the wolverine. The fur is not very valuable, but, to encourage the Indians to do all they can to destroy them, as they are so destructive on hunters’ traps as well as supplies, the Hudson Bay Company always gives a good price for their pelts.
A few hours’ paddling brought them to Sagasta-weekee. Here they found all well. Fortunately, the cyclone had passed some miles to the west of them, and so they had escaped its fury. Hunters, however, had come in who had been exposed to its power, and had some exciting tales to tell of narrow escapes and strange adventures.
Mrs Ross had become alarmed when, from some Indians, she had learned that the march of the cyclone was in the direction in which Mr Ross and his party had gone. She was pleased and delighted to welcome Alec, and to hear from him and the Indians the story of their deliverance and escape from accidents during the great storm.
The skins of the bear and wolverine were opened out and much admired, and then handed over to some clever Indian women to carefully dress for their home-going. The story of Sam’s race from the bear very much amused them all. Nothing, however, so much delighted the Indian hunters who gathered in as the destruction of that old wolverine. It seems that same fellow had haunted that region of country for some years, destroying traps, robbing fish scaffolds and meat “caches,” and playing with all the steel traps that the cleverest hunters could set for him. Now, however, his reign was over, and here was his hide—and a big one it was. Alec was the hero, and, although he modestly disclaimed all the honour except the first-class shot, the Indians were very proud of him, and showed it in various expressive ways.
