The Best Ballantyne Westerns. R. M. Ballantyne
and spit those grouse, while I cut some pemmican and prepare the tea.”
“How are the heels now, Hamilton?” asked the accountant, who divided his attention between his pipe and his snowshoes, the lines of which required to be re-adjusted.
“They appear to be as well as if nothing had happened to them,” replied Hamilton. “I’ve been looking at them, and there is no mark whatever. They do not even feel tender.”
“Lucky for you, old boy, that they were taken in time, else you’d have had another story to tell.”
“Do you mean to say that people’s heels really freeze and fall off?” inquired the other, with a look of incredulity.
“Soft, very soft, and green,” murmured Harry, in a low voice, while he continued his work of adding fresh snow to the kettle as the process of melting reduced its bulk.
“I mean to say,” replied the accountant, tapping the ashes out of his pipe, “that not only heels, but hands, feet, noses, and ears frequently freeze, and often fall off in this country, as you will find by sad experience if you don’t look after yourself a little better than you have done hitherto.”
One of the evil effects of the perpetual jesting that prevailed at York Fort was, that “soft” (in other words, straightforward, unsuspecting) youths had to undergo a long process of learning-by-experience: first, believing everything, and then doubting everything, ere they arrived at that degree of sophistication which enabled them to distinguish between truth and falsehood.
Having reached the doubting period in his training, Hamilton looked down and said nothing, at least with his mouth, though his eyes evidently remarked, “I don’t believe you.” In future years, however, the evidence of these same eyes convinced him that what the accountant said upon this occasion was but too true.
Breakfast was a repetition of the supper of the previous evening. During its discussion they planned proceedings for the day.
“My notion is,” said the accountant, interrupting the flow of words ever and anon to chew the morsel with which his mouth was filled—“my notion is, that as it’s a fine, clear day we should travel five miles through the country parallel with North River. I know the ground, and can guide you easily to the spots where there are lots of willows, and therefore plenty of ptarmigan, seeing that they feed on willow tops; and the snow that fell last night will help us a little.”
“How will the snow help us?” inquired Hamilton.
“By covering up all the old tracks, to be sure, and showing only the new ones.”
“Well, captain,” said Harry, as he raised a can of tea to his lips, and nodded to Hamilton as if drinking his health, “go on with your proposals for the day. Five miles up the river to begin with, then—”
“Then we’ll pull up,” continued the accountant; “make a fire, rest a bit, and eat a mouthful of pemmican; after which we’ll strike across country for the southern woodcutter’s track, and so home.”
“And how much will that be?”
“About fifteen miles.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Harry; “pass the kettle, please. Thanks.—Do you think you’re up to that, Hammy?”
“I will try what I can do,” replied Hamilton. “If the snow-shoes don’t cause me to fall often, I think I shall stand the fatigue very well.”
“That’s right,” said the accountant; “‘faint heart,’ etcetera, you know. If you go on as you’ve begun, you’ll be chosen to head the next expedition to the north pole.”
“Well,” replied Hamilton good-humouredly, “pray head the present expedition, and let us be gone.”
“Right!” ejaculated the accountant, rising. “I’ll just put my odds and ends out of the reach of the foxes, and then we shall be off.”
In a few minutes everything was placed in security, guns loaded, snow-shoes put on, and the winter camp deserted. At first the walking was fatiguing, and poor Hamilton more than once took a sudden and eccentric plunge; but after getting beyond the wooded country, they found the snow much more compact, and their march, therefore, much more agreeable. On coming to the place where it was probable that they might fall in with ptarmigan, Hamilton became rather excited, and apt to imagine that little lumps of snow which hung upon the bushes here and there were birds.
“There, now,” he cried, in an energetic and slightly positive tone, as another of these masses of snow suddenly met his eager eye—“that’s one, I’m quite sure.”
The accountant and Harry both stopped short on hearing this, and looked in the direction indicated.
“Fire away, then, Hammy,” said the former, endeavouring to suppress a smile.
“But do you think it really is one?” asked Hamilton anxiously.
“Well, I don’t see it exactly, but then, you know, I’m near-sighted.”
“Don’t give him a chance of escape,” cried Harry, seeing that his friend was undecided. “If you really do see a bird, you’d better shoot it, for they’ve got a strong propensity to take wing when disturbed.”
Thus admonished, Hamilton raised his gun and took aim. Suddenly he lowered his piece again, and looking round at Harry, said in a low whisper—
“Oh, I should like so much to shoot it while flying! Would it not be better to set it up first?”
“By no means,” answered the accountant. “‘A bird in the hand,’ etcetera. Take him as you find him—look sharp; he’ll be off in a second.”
Again the gun was pointed, and, after some difficulty in taking aim, fired.
“Ah, what a pity you’ve missed him!” shouted Harry. “But see, he’s not off yet; how tame he is, to be sure! Give him the other barrel, Hammy.”
This piece of advice proved to be unnecessary. In his anxiety to get the bird, Hamilton had cocked both barrels, and while gazing, half in disappointment, half in surprise, at the supposed bird, his finger unintentionally pressed the second trigger. In a moment the piece exploded. Being accidentally aimed in the right direction, it blew the lump of snow to atoms, and at the same time, hitting its owner on the chest with the butt, knocked him over flat upon his back.
“What a gun it is, to be sure!” said Harry, with a roguish laugh, as he assisted the discomfited sportsman to rise; “it knocks over game with butt and muzzle at once.”
“Quite a rare instance of one butt knocking another down,” added the accountant.
At this moment a large flock of ptarmigan, startled by the double report, rose with a loud, whirring noise about a hundred yards in advance, and after flying a short distance alighted.
“There’s real game at last, though,” cried the accountant, as he hurried after the birds, followed closely by his young friends.
They soon reached the spot where the flock had alighted, and after following up the tracks for a few yards further, set them up again. As the birds rose the accountant fired, and brought down two; Harry shot one and missed another; Hamilton being so nervously interested in the success of his comrades that he forgot to fire at all.
“How stupid of me!” he exclaimed, while the others loaded their guns.
“Never mind; better luck next time,” said Harry, as they resumed their walk. “I saw the flock settle down about half a mile in advance of us; so step out.”
Another short walk brought the sportsmen again within range.
“Go to the front, Hammy,” said the accountant, “and take the first shot this time.”
Hamilton obeyed. He had scarcely made ten steps in advance, when a single bird, that seemed to have been separated from the others,