The Ice Queen

by Ernest Ingersoll

  Evening came, and with it a feeling of homelike comfort queer to think about, yet not quite impossible under the circumstances, forlorn and dangerous as they were. The boys perched themselves on the gunwale of the boat, and watched Katy making snow-bird stew and steeping the fragrant tea.

  Then, how good it tasted! What a royal change from steady bacon and crackers, or tough dried beef, and water!

  "I wonder if they'll come again?" said Aleck, examining his friend's gun. "Costs a heap o' powder, though, and the noise scares them. Say, Tug, don't you know how to build traps?"

  "I could make a figure four," piped Jim, "if I had the box."

  "Guess we could manage that. Ugh! what a frightful smoke!"

  "I should say so," added Katy, rubbing her smarting eyes. "I think, if you would punch a hole under the wall, there would be a better draught. That hole in the corner of the roof don't make a very fine chimney."

  Tug took his ramrod and worked the snow away from a crevice at the foot of the wall, near the floor. The cooler air outside sucked in to take the place of the heated air within, which ascended to the hole at the edge of the roof, and a draught was set in motion, taking enough of the smoke out to make the place endurable while they ate their supper.

  How good that bird soup was! And what fun they had, eating it out of their tin cups with wooden spoons! There was only one bowl for the tea, which had to be passed around for each to drink from in turn. They forgot their difficulties for a little while, and were as merry as anybody could be. All at once Katy stopped short in a laugh, with an exclamation of astonishment:

  "I do believe we've never one of us thought what day it is! This is Christmas eve!"

  The evening was given to chatting, as they sat in the darkness half illumined by the red embers of their fire, for they wanted to save their lantern oil, and would not allow themselves to burn it uselessly; nor was it late when they went to sleep.

  * * *

  Chapter XV.

  CHRISTMAS BIRD-CATCHING.

  "Merry Christmas!"

  It was the Captain's voice, who felt it a part of his duty to be the first "on deck" in the morning, but had a rival in his sister, who was quite as active as he.

  "Merry Christmas! this what you call merry?" inquired Jim, fretfully, as with his finger he traced figures in the frost on the under side of the canvas.

  "Well, let's try to make it as merry as we can," Katy cried, cheerfully, from the starboard corner of the stern-sheets.

  "I know what I'm going to do," said Tug—"make bird-traps. I lay awake a long time in the night planning them."

  "While you fellows talkee-talkee I'll build a fire;" and Aleck's tall form was soon bent over the heap of wood, where a blaze was quickly crackling. Tug and Jim followed, and all went out of doors, as was their custom, leaving Katy the whole igloo to herself for a little while.

  Immediately after breakfast Tug began on his traps.

  He had brought along with him as a part of his baggage what he sometimes called his gunsmith shop. It consisted of a square tin box that would hold about two quarts of chestnuts—if he had had any chestnuts to put in it, which he hadn't. Besides a bag of No. 6 shot, this box contained one of the strangest and most worthless collections of odds and ends of boyish hardware that could be imagined. A catalogue of it would be useless. Among other articles were a knife-blade that long ago had parted from its handle, a brad-awl in the same condition, and a broken bullet-mould bound together by a long winding of fine wire.

  These three things the lad picked out and laid aside. Then he turned over the rest of the contents of the box until he had secured several tacks and brads of varied sizes, and a round piece of tin with holes in it. Next he discovered something which made him shout with a joy almost equal to his delight at finding the tree trunk. This best of all the finds, this forgotten treasure in the tin box, was a small coil of horse-hairs. They were the relics of a preparation he had made for a short camping trip into the woods three months before, while the October haze and bright cool air were playing among the rustling autumn leaves. How the scene came back to him! Now these hairs would serve him for a better use than mere amusement. He was carefully unwinding them when Jim rushed in to say that the snow-birds were around again.

  "Good!" cried Tug. "Take some crumbs out of the cracker box, and quietly throw them down where the snow-birds can get them. Put 'em on the top of the hummock first, then we'll gradually toll 'em down below. I'll be out in a minute."

  Jim got his crackers and vanished. Aleck was chopping wood, and Katy was with him. It was a cold day, but sunny, and there were no signs of the snow melting. Tug, alone in the house, looked fondly at his tools, and having nobody else to speak to, talked to himself.

  "We're like the boy and the ground-hog. 'We ain't got no meat for the supper, and the preacher's comin'.' So I guess I'd better leave the twitch-ups and make some common box traps that Kate and the kid can watch. Come here—you!"

  This last was addressed to a wooden box about twelve inches square, in which Katy had been wont to pack the small articles of table use. Tug turned them all out, and pulled off the leather hinges that held the cover. Then, taking an oak splinter from the firewood, he cut it to the size of a lead-pencil, and notched it in the middle. In this notch he tied the end of the ball of twine which formed a part of the boat's stores, and cut off a length of about fifteen feet. Next, he drew the locker out of the bearings upon which it rested, emptied it of its contents, and made a stick and length of twine to fit it in the same way. Lastly, he tore two pieces a foot or so square from their one strong sheet of white paper. He had been at work scarcely ten minutes, but had ready two simple traps. Then he went outside and called to Katy, who came quickly.

  "Katy," he said, "I have something for you to do. Please get a blanket and come out on top of the hummock, where you'll find me."

  While the girl went inside for the blanket Tug climbed up to the icy hill-top, where a small flock of snow-birds were pecking away at the crumbs Jim had thrown out. The lad crept stealthily towards them, and though the birds moved away, they were not greatly frightened, and did not go far. As quietly and rapidly as possible he spread down his pieces of paper on the highest part of the hummock, at a little distance apart, and not far from the edge of the ice table. Then, setting his boxes bottom upward, he perched each one slantwise upon one of his sticks, and stretched the strings away to the hummock's edge. On the paper underneath the boxes, and somewhat on the snow about them, he spread his bait of crumbs. Then showing Katy, who had now come out, where she could hide herself behind the edge of the upheaved ice cakes, he told her to wrap herself up well in the blanket, and to keep perfectly still till the birds came back. They would pick at the crumbs until by and by one or two of them would be sure to step under the boxes.

  "Then," said he, "you jerk your string, the box falls, and Mr. Snow-flake is a prisoner."

  So Katy took her position, and Tug, asking Jim to help him, went off to make some other traps.

  "Youngster," he directed, "I want you to cut me eight square pieces of ice, each one about as big as a brick, and after that two slabs about eighteen inches square and two or three inches thick. You can take the axe and cut 'em out in big chunks from the hummock, and then saw 'em into shape—here's the saw—and mind you keep away from where Katy is."

  "What do you want them for?"

  "For traps—never you mind why: you'll see presently," was the lofty reply.

  Jim thought it a little unfair, but he good-naturedly took the axe and saw and went to work.

  In half an hour he came to say he was done, and was quickly followed by his sister, whose face was beaming.

  "I've caught three!" she cried.

  "Three? Good!"

  "Yes, they came, a big flock—about forty, I should think—and chattered and twittered about over the house."

  "I heard 'em," Tug exclaimed.

  KATY TRAPPING THE SNOW-BUNTINGS.

  "Yes? Well, they seemed to en
joy warming their wings in the smoke, for they flew through it lots of times. Then pretty soon one spied a crumb, and I suppose he called his fellows, for in a minute they came all hopping about on the snow, and getting nearer and nearer the boxes. I got so nervous I could hardly hold the strings still, but I kept as quiet as a mouse—"

  "Or as a cat after a mouse!" interrupted Aleck, who had come in with an armful of wood.

  "—and pretty soon one little bird went right under the locker. There was another close behind him, but I was too anxious to wait, and I pulled the string, catching one and knocking the other over. It made so little noise that the rest of the flock were not alarmed, and I suppose they didn't miss the lost one, for pretty soon they began to go around the locker, and one flew right on top of it. I was afraid he would tumble it down, but he didn't, and in a minute another had gone under. But there was a third hopping right towards the paper, and so I just waited till he had run under, when—piff!—I had them both!"

  "Good for you, Katy!" cried the delighted boys. "You'll make a sportsman yet!"

  * * *

  Chapter XVI.

  HOW TUG MADE "TWITCH-UPS."

  "It's cold work, though," Katy replied, "sitting so still out on that ice. I am just stiff."

  "I'll fix that all right," Tug said, showing some small forked and notched sticks he had cut out of oaken chips. "Come out with me, and I'll show you how to set a trap that will drop itself, or, rather, where the bird shuts his own prison door."

  Gathering up Jim's blocks and slabs of ice, the whole party climbed to the top of the hummock, which, as I have said, was almost the only spot in the wide plain free from deep snow, and Tug went to work.

  Making a little hole in the ice, he wedged into it a short, flat-topped peg, and packed a handful of snow about its base.

  Then with the brick-like blocks of ice he arranged a hollow square around the peg. On top of the peg he laid the flattened side of the stem of a forked stick, like a letter laid flat, and on top of that, as though it were a continuation of the peg, he set a post about ten inches high. Asking Aleck to hold these twigs in position for him, he took one of the slabs, lodged an end of it on the rim of the little wall made by his "bricks," and gently rested the other end upon the top of the post, which was held in its upright position under the pressure, at the same time keeping the in place. This arranged, he spread crumbs about the trap and thickly inside. Then he announced it ready.

  SETTING THE NEW TRAPS.

  "Oh, I see how it works," Katy cried. "The bird, in leaping down, is almost sure to perch on the forked twig, or, at least, to strike it. That throws it out of place, and tumbles the whole cover down, shutting him in."

  "Correct!" said Tug, admiringly, as he went to work on a second trap of the same kind.

  This set, all left the hummock (except Jim, who agreed to take his turn, wrapped in a blanket, at watching the strings) and joined labor in making two or three more of the new ice traps, for now that the birds were plenty, they wanted to capture as many as possible.

  "If only I had some sort of a spring," Tug announced, "I could make twitch-ups. I've all the rest of the fixin's, 'cause I found some horse-hairs in my 'shop' this morning; but I don't see how I am to get a springy twig or a strip of whalebone. I had some old umbrella-ribs, but I didn't bring 'em along. Wish I had."

  Aleck thought over all his stores, but could remember nothing that would answer the purpose. "How about your ramrod?" he asked.

  "Too stiff," Tug replied.

  So they gave up talking, and attended to their work. Suddenly Aleck went to the log, split off a strip of oak, and whittled it into a thin rod. "How is that?" he said, as he handed it to his comrade.

  Tug beat his hands and blew on his aching fingers a while before answering. Then he bent the rod gently, but before it was curved half as far as he needed, it broke.

  "No good. Nothing but hickory will stand the strain."

  "I'll tell you what you might do, perhaps," Katy suggested, having come out just in time to witness this little trial. "The handle of the boat-hook is hickory. If you could make an oak handle for that, you could split the hickory up into springles, couldn't you?"

  "That's so!—that's a bright idea. Try it, Tug," and the Captain ran off for the boat-hook. The shaft of this was straight-grained, well-seasoned, and tough, but an oaken staff would serve its purpose quite as well.

  "I should think that would answer first-rate," said Tug, "but you had better whittle out your oak stick first. It would be rough to be caught suddenly without any handle to our boat-hook."

  "That's so," Aleck assented, and took his axe to split a suitable piece from the log.

  The making and shaping of a new handle, even in the rough, cost him much labor with his few tools. It was nearly an hour, therefore, before he was ready to pull the irons off the old handle and fasten the new one into its place; and fully another hour had passed by the time this difficult job had been done.

  Then, with great care, and by the help of little wedges, a clean, straight splinter about as thick as your finger was split from the tough hickory staff. It was tried by the trapmaker, very gently at first, and bent well, so that it was pronounced serviceable, though not as good as a green twig or sapling, such as one would cut in the woods for the same purpose. It would answer to try with, however, and after a bit of luncheon they watched Tug make his twitch-ups—or, at least, all did except the one on duty at the strings. As Tug himself had to take a turn, he didn't get his traps done in time to put them up that day.

  Next morning, however, all were out bright and early to help him do so. The snow-flakes had been there before, however, and one unfortunate had stepped on a treacherous fork, and was caught.

  Having arranged two more ice-boxes and letter traps, for which the pieces had been cut yesterday, they all gathered around Tug to watch him set his first twitch-up.

  With one of the tent spikes he dug a slanting hole in the ice, into which he inserted one end of his hickory splint, which was about four feet long, fastening it firmly by ramming ice and snow down into the hole beside it, which would quickly freeze solid. A short distance from the foot of the splint he then laid down a short board, which was braced at the foot (or end farthest from the splint) against the side of a trough cut in the ice. The remaining three sides of the board were then fenced in by small blocks of ice.

  Next, taking from his pocket a cord made by twisting two horse-hairs together, he slipped one end through a loop in the other, thus making a noose, and tied it to the top of the hickory splint. This done, he bent down the splint until he hooked its tip under the nearest end, or head, of the board, which was raised a couple of inches from the ground. Spreading the noose carefully out upon the board, he sprinkled within a particularly nice lot of crumbs, then laid a little train away from the foot of the board as a leader, and the snare was ready. The weight of the bird treading upon the board to get the bait would press it down enough to let the lightly caught whip end of the splint spring up: this would pull the noose with a sudden movement, and the bird would find itself dangling in the air by the legs or a wing, or possibly by the neck.

  Removing their captive, and resetting the square trap, the whole party went out of sight to await further results. Yesterday they had captured thirteen birds in all, and had eaten only nine. With three more traps, they ought to do better to-day, and so accumulate a little stock ahead.

  "At any rate," Katy observed, "we've plenty of refrigerator room to keep them in."

  They had, indeed—a refrigerator about a hundred miles square!

  * * *

  Chapter XVII.

  THE BREAKING UP OF THE ICE.

  Breakfast was late the next morning, for Katy proposed to vary their fare by frying some snow-birds with bacon, and Jim was called upon to help pluck and prepare them—work which did not please that young gentleman very much.

  "I suppose now we shall have nothing but snow-birds, snow-birds," he growled.

  "Do try an
d be a little more cheerful, Jim," said Katy. "You are always grumbling about something."

  "What else do you want?" asked Tug. "You have got beef, though it's dried, and bacon and poultry."

  "Flesh, fowl, and good red herring," quoted Aleck, from an old proverb.

  "All but the herring," grunted The Youngster, crossly. "Now if only we had some fish—"

  "Fish!" Tug shouted, leaping to his feet. "Never thought of it, as I'm a Dutchman! Why shouldn't we? We have only got to cut a hole in the ice, and 'drop 'em a line,' as the man told his wife to do when he went off to Californy."

  "Strange we never thought of that," said Katy.

  "Strange? I'm the biggest dolt in three counties. Why, I'll catch you some be-'utiful muskallonge for dinner. Come on, Captain. Let's cut a hole while the boy is cleaning those twopenny tomtits."

  "Hold on!" cried the disgusted Jim; "I'm coming too."

  "No, no, my dear child" (Tug's voice was that of a pitying mother). "Remember Captain's order. You're to be a nice boy, and help in the kitchen. Maybe we'll let you cut the heads off our fishes, if you do well with the birds. Ca-a-reful!" and the tormentor dodged a club hurled by the angry lad, who wished (and said so) that he was only a little bigger.

  Jim and Katy both felt it was hard indeed that he should be deprived of this particular fun, in which he took so much interest, and it seemed as though the big fellows might have waited. The cook would willingly have let her scullion depart, but an order was an order, and he had to stay, plucking savagely at the pretty feathers of the innocent buntings, and declining to come back to good-humor, until the lads returned with the report that they had cut two holes in the thin ice that formed over the "lead," which, the reader will remember, was crossed just a few rods back, and now were ready to set their lines.