The skin of the wapiti, however, is held in high esteem among the Indians. It is thinner than that of the moose, but makes a much better article of leather. When dressed in the Indian fashion—that is to say, soaked in a lather composed of the brains and fat of the animal itself, and then washed, dried, scraped, and smoked—it becomes as soft and pliable as a kid-glove, and will wash and dry without stiffening like chamois leather. That is a great advantage which it has, in the eyes of the Indians, over the skins of other species of deer, as the moose and caribou—for the leather made from these, after a wetting, becomes harsh and rigid and requires a great deal of rubbing to render it soft again.
Lucien knew how to dress the elk-hide, and could make leather out of it as well as any Indian squaw in the country. But travelling as they were, there was not a good opportunity for that; so they were content to give it such a dressing as the circumstances might allow. It was spread out on a frame of willow-poles, and set up in front of the fire, to be scraped at intervals and cleared of the fatty matter, as well as the numerous parasites that at this season adhere to the skins of the wapiti.
While Lucien was framing the skin, Basil and Norman occupied themselves in cutting the choice pieces of the meat into thin slices and hanging them up before the fire. This job being finished, all sat down to watch Lucien currying his hide.
“Ho, boys!” cried François, starting up as if something had occurred to him; “what about the wolverene? It's a splendid skin—why not get it too?”
“True enough,” replied Norman, “we had forgotten that. But the beast's gone to the bottom—how can we get at him?”
“Why, fish him up, to be sure,” said François. “Let's splice one of these willow-poles to my ram rod, and I'll screw it into him, and draw him to the surface in a jiffy. Come!”
“We must get the canoe round, then,” said Norman. “The bank's too steep for us to reach him without it.”
“Of course,” assented François, at the same time going towards the willows; “get you the canoe into the water, while I cut the sapling.”
“Stay!” cried Basil, “I'll show you a shorter method. Marengo!”
As Basil said this, he rose to his feet, and walked down to the bluff where they had shot the wolverene. All of them followed him as well as Marengo, who bounded triumphantly from side to side, knowing he was wanted for some important enterprise.