With Axe and Rifle

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Pull ’way, massa, got one of dem!” and, he quickly backing out, we hauled away on the rope. The resistance we found told us of Dio’s success, and presently we hauled out a good-sized cub, but it was bleeding from its mouth and shoulders, an evidence of the severe way in which the dogs had worried it. Though it struggled and tried to bite, it was so much hurt, that Uncle Denis, believing that it would not live, at once put it out of its misery.

“Dere is ’nodder inside,” observed Dio, listening at the mouth of the cave; “git him next.”

Once more he shoved in the pole. Some time elapsed before he again shouted out to us to haul away, when we pulled forth by the front paws another cub, which, although it had some blood-stains about it, seemed to be unharmed. The smaller one did not struggle so violently as his companion had done.

“Just the creature I wanted,” exclaimed Uncle Denis, delighted. “I must muzzle Master Bruin at present, to prevent him from biting our favourites, but he’ll soon become as gentle as a lamb.”

The little bear made violent efforts to retaliate, but a piece of rope put round his nose, prevented him from opening his mouth, while we fastened his fore-legs together; we then, taking two sticks, placed them under his body and Uncle Denis and I carried him along, while Dio brought the little dead bear on his back. The bear’s flesh we carried home was very acceptable, but our hunting expeditions had of late not been so successful as before, many of the animals having migrated southwards to escape the approaching winter.

At first Master Bruin was very snappish, but as he grew hungry, he was glad to take a sup of goat’s milk, which Uncle Denis gave him from a bottle, and in a short time he gratefully received food from the hands of anyone of us. He showed from the first great fondness for honey, to which his mamma had probably accustomed him, or he may have inherited the taste from her. Uncle Denis taking him in hand, taught him all sorts of tricks, and before long he became a most tractable and well-behaved bear.

A few days after we had captured “Bruno,” Dan and I, with Uncle Denis, accompanied by Dio, set off on a hunting expedition down the valley, towards a broad river, which after feeding a large lake found its way into the Missouri. It was itself fed by other streams which came down from the mountain ranges, but varied greatly, according to the season of the year. Sometimes they were mere rivulets; at others, they were swelled by the melting snows. In case of becoming separated, we always fixed on some well-marked spot, where we could assemble at an hour agreed on, or at the end of the day’s sport, either to camp or return home. Dan and I always kept together. On this occasion we had lost sight of Uncle Denis and Dio, though we heard their shots in the distance.

We had found no deer, though we had killed some wild fowl on the banks of the stream, when we heard, as we supposed, the report of our uncle’s gun, some way up it. We set off to try and rejoin him; twice again we heard a shot in the same direction, but apparently further off. Still we persevered, making our way as well as we could through the thick wood.

Near the stream, willow, lime, and other water-loving trees grew to a large size, with a fringe of thick reeds through which it was difficult to penetrate.

After going some distance, we struck a trail, which we guessed was our uncle’s, certainly not that of an Indian, who would have been careful where he trod, so as not to have crushed the grass, or broken off leaves and twigs in his way. The trail, as we advanced, became more and more clear, and we expected every moment to catch sight of our uncle. Though we had not heard a shot for some time, we suddenly came upon him, when he put up his hand as a signal to us not to speak, and crept forward through the reeds. We followed him, until he stopped behind a tree, and leaning forward looked up the stream, which flowed over a rocky bed close to us, while a short distance off a dam, which seemed to have been constructed by human hands—so considerable was its extent—was thrown across from side to side, the water beyond it being perfectly smooth. Out of it rose a number of round-topped artificial structures, some two feet or more above the surface, while a large community of animals, which we knew at once were beavers, were busily moving about, some employed in either repairing or increasing their dam, others in dragging pieces of willow across their lake, either to form new abodes, to mend any fractures in the old ones, or to serve as food, the fresh bark being their chief article of diet. Some again were on shore gnawing away at young trees with their sharp teeth, and two fell directly over the stream while we were watching them. Instantly the whole community hurried forward to assist in cutting off the branches and reducing the log to a more manageable size.