by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
THE POLAR HARE AND GREAT SNOWY OWL.
Of course hunger kept them from sleeping late. They were up and out ofthe tent by an early hour. Their fire was re-kindled, and they weremaking preparations for a fresh pot of rock-tripe, when they werestartled by the note of a well-known bird. On looking up, they beheldseated upon the point of a rock the creature itself, which was the"cinereous crow" (_Garrulus Canadensis_), or, as it is better known, the"whiskey Jack." The latter name it receives from the voyageurs,on account of the resemblance of its Indian appellation,"whiskae-shaw-neesh," to the words "whiskey John." Although sometimescalled the "cinereous crow," the bird is a true jay. It is one of themost inelegant of the genus, being of a dull grey colour, and notparticularly graceful in its form. Its plumage, moreover, does notconsist of webbed feathers, but rather more resembles hair; nor does itsvoice make up for the plainness of its appearance, as is the case withsome birds. On the contrary, the voice of "whiskey Jack" is plaintiveand squeaking, though he is something of a mocker in his way, andfrequently imitates the notes of other birds. He is one of thosecreatures that frequent the habitations of man, and there is not a furpost, or fort, in all the Hudson's Bay territory, where "whiskey Jack"is not familiarly known. He is far from being a favourite, however, as,like his near relative the magpie, he is a great thief, and will followthe marten-trapper all day while baiting his traps, perching upon a treeuntil the bait is set, and then pouncing down, and carrying it off. Hefrequently pilfers small articles from the forts and encampments, and isso bold as to enter the tents, and seize food out of any vessel that maycontain it. Notwithstanding all this, he is a favourite with thetraveller through these inhospitable regions. No matter how barren thespot where the voyageur may make his camp, his tent will hardly bepitched, before he receives a visit from "whiskey Jack," who comes, ofcourse, to pick up any crumbs that may fall. His company, therefore, ina region where all other wild creatures shun the society of man, endearshim to the lonely traveller.
At many of their camps our voyageurs had met with this singular bird,and were always glad to receive him as a friend. They were now doublydelighted to see him, but this delight arose from no friendly feelings.Their guest was at once doomed to die. Francois had taken up his gun,and in the next moment would have brought him down, had he not beenchecked by Norman. Not that Norman intended to plead for his life, butNorman's eye had caught sight of another "whiskey Jack,"--which washopping among the rocks at some distance--and fearing that Francois'shot might frighten it away, had hindered him from firing. It wasNorman's design to get both.
The second "whiskey Jack," or, perhaps, it was the whiskey "Jill," soondrew near; and both were now seen to hop from rock to rock, and thenupon the top of the tent, and _one of them actually settled_ upon theedge of the pot, as it hung over the fire, and quietly looking into it,appeared to scrutinise its contents!
The boys could not think of any way of getting the birds, except byFrancois' gun; and it was at length agreed that Francois should do hisbest. He was sure of one of them, at least; so telling the others toget behind him, he fired at the more distant one where it sat upon thetent, and took the other on the wing.
Both shots were successful. The two jays fell, and were soon divestedof their soft, silky, hair-like plumage, and dropped into the boilingpot. They did not weigh together more than about six or seven ounces;but even that was accounted something under present circumstances; and,with the _tripe de roche_, a much better breakfast was made than theyhad anticipated.
No more of the lichen could be found. The rocks were all searched, butonly a few patches--not enough for another full meal--could be obtained.The travellers had no other resource, therefore, but to continue on,and passing through the rocky ground, they once more embarked upon thewilderness of snow.
During that whole day not a living creature gladdened their eyes. Theysaw nothing that was eatable--fish, flesh, fowl, or vegetable. Not evena bit of rock-tripe--in these parts the last resource of starving men--could be met with. They encamped in a plain, where not a tree stood--not even a rock to shelter them.
Next morning a consultation was held. Marengo was again the subject oftheir thoughts and conversation. Should they kill him on the spot or goa little farther? That was the question. Lucien, as before, interposedin his favour. There was a high hill many miles off, and in theirproper course. "Let us first reach yonder hill," proposed Lucien. "Ifnothing is found before that, then we must part with Marengo."
The proposal was agreed to, and, striking their tent, they again setout.
It was a toilsome long way to that hill--feeble and weary as they allwere--but they reached it without having observed the slightest trace ofanimal life.
"Up the hill!" cried Lucien, beckoning to the others, and cheering themwith his weak voice, "Up the hill!"
On they went, up the steep declivity--Marengo toiling on after them.The dog looked downcast and despairing. He really appeared to know theconditions that had been made for his life. His masters, as they creptupward, looked sharply before them. Every tuft that appeared above thesnow was scrutinised, and every inch of the ground, as it came intoview, was examined.
At length they crossed the escarpment of the hill, and stood upon thesummit. They gazed forward with disappointed feelings. The hill-topwas a sort of table plain, of about three hundred yards in diameter. Itwas covered with snow, nearly a foot in depth. A few heads of witheredgrass were seen above the surface, but not enough to subdue the uniformwhite that prevailed all over. There was no creature upon it; that wasevident. A bird as big as a sparrow, or a quadruped as large as ashrew-mouse, could have been seen upon any part of it. A single glancesatisfied all of them that no living thing was there.
They halted without proceeding farther. Some of them could not havegone another mile, and all of them were tottering in their tracks.Marengo had arrived upon the summit, and stood a little to one side,with the sledge behind him.
"_You_ must do it!" said Basil, speaking to Norman in a hoarse voice,and turning his head away. Lucien and Francois stepped aside at thesame time, and stood as if looking down the hill. The countenances ofall three betokened extreme sorrow. There was a tear in Basil's eyethat he was trying to wipe away with his sleeve.
The sharp click of Norman's gun was heard behind them, and they were allwaiting for the report, when, at that moment, a dark shadow passing overthe white declivity arrested their attention! It was the shadow of abird upon the wing. The simultaneous exclamation of all three stayedNorman's finger--already pressing upon the trigger--and the latter,turning round, saw that they were regarding some object in the air. Itwas a bird of great size--almost as large as an eagle, but with theplumage of a swan. It was white all over--both body and wings--white asthe snow over which it was sailing. Norman knew the bird at a glance.Its thick short neck and large head--its broad-spreading wings, of milkywhiteness, were not to be mistaken. It was the "great snowy owl" of theArctic regions.
Its appearance suddenly changed the aspect of affairs. Norman let thebutt of his rifle fall to the ground, and stood, like the rest, watchingthe bird in its flight.
The snowy owl (_Strix nyctea_) is, perhaps, the most beautiful, as it isone of the most powerful birds of its genus--of which there are morethan a dozen in North America. It is a bird of the Polar regions--eventhe most remote--and in the dead of winter it is found within the Arcticcircle, on both Continents--although at the same season it also wandersfarther south. It dwells upon the Barren Grounds as well as in woodeddistricts. In the former it squats upon the snow, where its peculiarcolour often prevents it from being noticed by the passing hunter.Nature has furnished it with every protection from the cold. Itsplumage is thick, closely matted, and downy, and it is feathered to thevery eyes--so that its legs appear as large as those of a good-sizeddog. The bill, too, is completely hidden under a mass of feathers thatcover its face, and not even a point of its whole body is exposed.
The owl is usually looked upon as a night-bird, and in Southernlatitudes it is rarely seen by day; but the owls of the Northern regionsdiffer from their congeners in this respect. They hunt by day, evenduring the bright hours of noon. Were it not so, how could they existin the midst of an Arctic summer, when the days are months in duration?Here we have another example of the manner in which Nature trains herwild creatures to adapt themselves to their situation.
At least a dozen species of owls frequent the territory of the Hudson'sBay Company--the largest of which is the cinereous owl, whose wings havea spread of nearly five feet. Some species migrate south on theapproach of winter; while several, as the snowy owl, remain to prey uponthe ptarmigan, the hares, and other small quadrupeds, who, likethemselves, choose that dreary region for their winter home.
Our travellers, as I have said, stood watching the owl as it soaredsilently through the heavens. Francois had thrown his gun across hisleft arm, in hopes he might get a shot at it; but the bird--a shy one atall times--kept away out of range; and, after circling once or twiceover the hill, uttered a loud cry and flew off.
Its cry resembled the moan of a human being in distress; and its effectupon the minds of our travellers, in the state they then were, was farfrom being pleasant. They watched the bird with despairing looks, untilit was lost against the white background of a snow-covered hill.
They had noticed that the owl appeared to be just taking flight whenthey first saw it. It must have risen up from the hill upon which theywere; and they once more ran their eyes along the level summit, curiousto know where it had been perched that they had not seen it. No doubt,reflected they, it had been near enough, but its colour had rendered itundistinguishable from the snow.
"What a pity!" exclaimed Francois.
While making these reflections, and sweeping their glances around, anobject caught their eyes that caused some of them to ejaculate andsuddenly raise their guns. This object was near the centre of thesummit table, and at first sight appeared to be only a lump of snow; butupon closer inspection, two little round spots of a dark colour, andabove these two elongated black marks, could be seen. Looking steadily,the eye at length traced the outlines of an animal, that sat in acrouching attitude. The round spots were its eyes, and the black marksabove them were tips of a pair of very long ears. All the rest of itsbody was covered with a soft white fur, hardly to be distinguished fromthe snow upon which it rested.
The form and colour of the animal, but more especially its long erectears, made it easy for them to tell what it was. All of them saw it wasa hare.
"Hush!" continued Norman, as soon as he saw it, "keep still all of you--leave it to me."
"What shall we do?" demanded Basil. "Can we not assist you?"
"No," was the reply, uttered in a whisper, "stay where you are. Keepthe dog quiet. I'll manage puss, if the owl hasn't scared her toobadly. That scream has started her out of her form. I'm certain shewasn't that way before. Maybe she'll sit it out. Lucky the sun'shigh--don't move a step. Have the dog ready, but hold him tight, andkeep a sharp look out if she bolts."
After giving these instructions, that were all uttered quickly and in anunder tone, Norman moved off, with his gun carried across his arm. Hedid not move in the direction of the hare, but rather as if he was goingfrom her. His course, however, bent gradually into a circle of whichthe hare was the centre--the diameter being the full breadth of thesummit level, which was about three hundred yards. In this circle hewalked round and round, keeping his eye fixed upon the crouching animal.When he had nearly completed one circumference, he began to shorten thediameter--so that the curve which he was now following was a spiral one,and gradually drawing nearer to the hare. The latter kept watching himas he moved--curiosity evidently mingling with her fears. Fortunately,as Norman had said, the sun was nearly in the vertex of the heavens, andhis own body cast very little shadow upon the snow. Had it beenotherwise, the hare would have been frightened at the moving shadow, andwould have sprung out of her form, before he could have got withinrange.
When he had made some four or five circuits, Norman moved slower andslower, and then stopped nearly opposite to where the others were.These stood watching him with beating hearts, for they knew that thelife of Marengo, and perhaps their own as well, depended on the shot.Norman had chosen his place, so that in case the hare bolted, she mightrun towards them, and give them the chance of a flying shot. His gunwas already at his shoulder--his finger rested on the trigger, and theboys were expecting the report, when again the shadow of a bird flittedover the snow, a loud human-like scream sounded in their ears, and thehare was seen to spring up, and stretch her long legs in flight. At thesame instant the great snowy owl was observed wheeling above, andthreatening to pounce upon the fleeing animal!
The hare ran in a side-direction, but it brought her as she passedwithin range of the party by the sledge. The owl kept above her as sheran. A dozen leaps was all the hare ever made. A loud crack was heard,and she was seen to spring up and fall back upon the snow, dead as adoornail. Like an echo another crack followed--a wild scream rangthrough the air, and the great white owl fell fluttering to the earth.The reports were not of a rifle. They were the louder detonations of ashot-gun. All eyes were turned towards Francois, who, like a littlegod, stood enveloped in a halo of blue smoke. Francois was the hero ofthe hour.
Marengo rushed forward and seized the struggling owl, that snapped itsbill at him like a watch-man's rattle. But Marengo did not care forthat; and seizing its head in his teeth, gave it a crunch that at onceput an end to its flapping.
Marengo was reprieved, and he seemed to know it, as he bounded over thesnow, waving his tail, and barking like a young fool.
They all ran up to the hare, which proved to be the "Polar hare" (_Lepusglacialis_), and one of the largest of its species--not less thanfifteen pounds in weight. Its fur, soft and white like swan-down, wasstained with red blood. It was not quite dead. Its little heart yetbeat faintly, and the light of life was still shining from its beautifulhoney-coloured eyes. Both it and the owl were taken up and carried tothe sledge, which was once more attached to Marengo, as the partyintended to go forward and halt under the shelter of the hill.
"There must be some wood in this quarter," remarked Norman: "I neverknew this sort of hare far from timber."
"True," said Lucien, "the Polar hare feeds upon willows, arbutus, andthe Labrador tea-plant. Some of these kinds must be near."
While they were speaking, they had reached the brow of the hill, on theopposite side from where they had ascended. On looking into the valleybelow, to their great joy they beheld some clumps of willows, andgood-sized trees of poplar, birch, and spruce-pine (_Pinus alba_), andpassing down the hill, the travellers soon stood in their midst.Presently was heard the chipping sound of an axe and crash of fallingtimber, and in a few moments after a column of smoke was seen soaring upout of the valley, and curling cheerfully towards the bright blue sky.
