Uncle Denis and I were out on one of these hunting expeditions, when, as we were following the tracks of a deer through a wood, accompanied by Boxer and Toby, my uncle, who was ahead, made a sign to me to advance cautiously, while he, stopping, concealed himself behind a tree. I crept forward as he desired, not knowing whether he had sighted a deer or a party of Indians on the war-path. On getting up to him, I found that he was observing the movements of two animals, very different in appearance to each other. On the trunk of a fallen tree, stood a porcupine, or urson, with quills erect, looking down on a smaller animal, which I at once recognised as a marten, or rather, a sable, which was gazing up in a defiant way, apparently meditating an attack on the other.
“I should like to catch and tame both those animals,” whispered Uncle Denis. “Keep back the dogs or the sable will escape and the urson will treat them in a way they are not likely to forget.” The sable was evidently bent on having some porcupine meat for breakfast, and kept moving backwards and forwards, meditating a spring at the nose of its formidable antagonist; but, aware of the power of the latter’s tail, was waiting for a favourable opportunity to seize it. The porcupine, though so much larger, and naturally moving only at a slow pace, seemed aware of the superior agility of the sable, which would enable it to spring from side to side, or dash forward and attack it in front, when its armed tail would have been of no avail. Presently the sable retired to a distance, and I thought would have discovered us, but at that moment it made a dash at the nose of the porcupine, who, whisking round its tail in an extraordinary fashion, sent a shower of darts into the body of its opponent. This did not, however, prevent the latter from seizing it with its sharp teeth and dragging it to the ground.
“Now is our time,” whispered Uncle Denis, putting down his rifle and unstrapping his blanket, and I imitating his example, we rushed forward and threw them over the two combatants. The sable, however, managed to spring out, when the dogs gave chase, but we were too much occupied to see with what result. The porcupine in its struggles whisked about its tail, sending several of its quills through the blanket, but the rest of its body being unarmed, we managed to press it down until we had tied the blanket tightly round it. Having secured the urson in a way which made its escape impossible, we turned our attention to the sable, which the dogs had brought to bay, but the brave little creature was becoming faint, from the wounds inflicted on it from the porcupine’s tail, the quills from which were sticking out all over one side of its body. Seeing that there was no other way of capturing it, I picked up a stick and dealt it a blow on the head, sufficient to stun it, but not to deprive it of life. While I kept back the dogs, Uncle Denis, kneeling down, pulled out the quills, and then throwing my blanket over the animal, he secured it as we had done the urson. It seemed very doubtful, however, whether it would revive, but my uncle said that he would take it home, and should it recover, would try, with gentle treatment, to tame its fierce spirit. To carry our unusual prizes, we formed a long pole from a sapling, to which we secured the creatures side by side. Placing the pole on our shoulders, we began our homeward march. We had the best part of the day before us, and hoped to reach the farm before dark. The urson, weighed heavily, and sometimes it made a convulsive struggle and very nearly worked itself out of the blanket. The sable for some time lay perfectly quiet, but at last we observed a movement in the blanket, which gave us hopes that it was reviving, and we had to put on additional fastenings lest it should escape. To make a long story short, we at length arrived, pretty well tired with our heavy burden. Our friends were somewhat disappointed on finding that we had brought a couple of living animals instead of the fat venison or buffalo they had expected. We, however, relieved their minds by telling them that we had left the meat of a couple of wapiti and a big-horn sheep en cache, and Martin and another man were sent off with the horses to bring it in. We had now to dispose of our captives. The urson was tumbled into the cage, which had before served as a prison to the young puma, while one of smaller dimensions, with iron bars, served as the present habitation of the sable. I cannot stop to describe the process by which both creatures were tamed. The next morning Kathleen and Lily came eagerly to look at them, as they had never seen anything of the kind before. They were greatly surprised at the size of the urson, which was nearly four feet long; the body measured upwards of three feet, and the tail rather less than nine inches. At first they thought it was a young bear, which, from the long blackish brown hair which covered it, concealing the quills, it somewhat resembled, it having also lost a considerable number of the longer quills in its fight with the sable. It had, however, others on the head and hind-quarters, which were more visible than the short ones on the rest of its body. The urson plays a not unimportant part in the destruction of the forests of North America, as it feeds entirely on the bark of trees. This it separates from the branches with its sharp teeth, commencing at the highest and working its way downwards. Having destroyed one tree, it climbs up to the top of another, and carries on the same process, always proceeding in a straight line, and I have often, when passing through a forest, been able to trace its progress by the line of barked trees, which are sure ultimately to die. It is asserted by some hunters, that a single urson will consume the bark of a hundred trees in the course of a year. Our urson, though it became attached to Uncle Denis and would feed out of his hand, was always an object of awe to the rest of the animals, who seemed well aware of its power of inflicting punishment on any of them who might offend it. Even Bruin held it in respect, and none of them ever attempted to be on too familiar terms.
The sable took even longer to tame than the urson. We used to feed it partly on vegetable and partly on animal diet. In winter it preferred the latter. After it had had its meals, it had the habit of going to sleep so soundly that it was difficult to awaken it. It was about eighteen inches long, exclusive of its bushy tail, and much resembled the ordinary marten in shape. The fur was of a rich brown, with white about the neck, and on the head there was a grey tinge. It was of unusual length for so small an animal, and its most remarkable peculiarity was, that in whatever way the hair was pressed down, it lay smoothly on the animal’s back. It extended down the legs to the end of the claws. So tame did it at last become, that it was allowed to roam about at large. Shortly afterwards Kathleen and Lily lost a favourite hen and several young chickens, and as there could be no doubt as to who was the criminal, the sable was doomed to imprisonment for life. Its health suffered in consequence, and in a couple of years it died, but Uncle Denis got 10 pounds for its skin, so that it thus became far more profitable dead than alive.
I have said little of the doings of my sister and Lily. Both were growing into charming young girls, and certainly looked older than they really were. They were also—which was of more importance—sensible and good, devoted to our mother. I always looked upon Lily as a sister; indeed our mother treated her with the same affection as she did Kathleen.
Months and years went by, faster than I could suppose possible. We brought more and more ground under cultivation, our cattle increased, as did our herds of swine even still faster, while the few sheep we had brought became a large flock. Mr Tidey still acted as tutor to the family. Dan had, however, become almost a young man, and I had long considered myself grown up. We laboured on the farm, hunted and fished and traded in furs; some of the furs we bought from the Indians, and a considerable number we trapped or shot ourselves.
Uncle Denis remained a bachelor, although, when urged by my mother, he sometimes talked of going eastward to look out for a wife. I had no intention of following his example even if he did go. I could not tell whether Lily would consent to marry me, but I determined some day to ask her, feeling now that I should never find her equal in any part of the world.