Grace Harlowe\'s Overland Riders in the Great North Woods

J >> Jessie Graham Flower >> Grace Harlowe\'s Overland Riders in the Great North Woods

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Afternoon tea was an enjoyable occasion that day, at which the principal
topic was their new guide.

At five minutes before six, after stamping out their little campfire,
the Overland party started for the log cabin. As they crossed the road
Hippy sniffed the air.

"I smell food!" he cried.

"Onions! Save me!" moaned Emma.

"No. It is something far and away ahead of mere onions," answered Hippy.
"I don't know what it is, but were this not so formal an occasion, I
should break into a run for it."

The door of the cabin stood open, so the party filed in unbidden. The
table was long enough for a lumberjack boarding house, constructed of
boards nailed together with cleats and placed on two boxes. Oilcloth
covered the boards and hung clear to the floor on either side. The ends
were open. There was a freshness and wholesomeness about the place that
attracted the girls at once.

"Set down!" commanded Joe, entering with a heaping platter of meat.

"That is what I smelled!" exclaimed Hippy. "May I ask what that meat is,
Mrs. Shafto?"

"Venison."

"Eh? Don't wake me up," murmured Hippy.

"Is the deer season on?" questioned Tom.

"No. Not till November fifteenth. This is smoked venison, killed last
season. I put down a lot of it in caches where the water will keep it
cool."

Another dish, a tinpanful of baked potatoes, came on with other smaller
dishes of vegetables; then the coffee was poured into the thick
serviceable cups that had already been placed by the plates, which,
together with two loaves of bread, comprised the meal. Appetites were at
concert pitch and it was with difficulty that Hippy Wingate restrained
himself until the girls were seated.

"Miss Dean, set down at the end where I can watch ye that ye don't fly
away. Sorry ye have to set on a box, but there ain't chairs enough to go
around. I give the Lieutenant a chair 'cause a box ain't safe for him.
He's a big feeder and the box ain't strong. Dip in, folks. Get started.
Help yourselves. This ain't no saciety tea."

The food was passed along and each Rider helped herself from platter and
pan, and every plate was heaped under the observant eyes that were
glaring through the big horn-rimmed spectacles to see that each person
helped herself to liberal portions.

Exclamations were heard all around the table when the girls had tasted
of the smoked venison. Hippy, however, was too busy to talk or exclaim
unless he were forced to do so.

"Lieutenant, did ye et like that when ye was chasin' the flyin' Dutchmen
in France?" demanded Joe.

Hippy nodded.

"It's a eternal wonder ye didn't fall down then."

"I couldn't. I lived on angel food most of the time, and, after a while,
I could fly. See? You live on angel food long enough and you can fly,
too," promised Hippy gravely.

"I reckon I would at that," answered the forest woman, pursing her lips,
the nearest thing to a smile that the Overland Riders had seen on her
stern, rugged face.

The girls laughed merrily, and Nora turned a beaming face on her
husband.

"Hippy, my darlin', you've met your match this time," she said.

"I met you first, didn't I?" retorted Hippy, then returned to his
absorbing occupation and shortly afterwards passed his plate for another
helping.

"My land!" exclaimed Joe. "Ye do beat the bears for eatin'. Never seen
one that could stow it away the way ye do."

"You should see him when he is hungry," advised Emma. "Why, when we were
riding in the Kentucky Mountains last year we--"

"Well?" demanded the guide.

Emma had abruptly ceased speaking as she felt something rubbing against
her foot. At first she thought it was Hindenburg who had slipped into
the house and crawled under the table to salvage the crumbs. Now
something surely was nosing at her knee.

Emma Dean's face contracted ever so little when a cold something brushed
the back of the hand that hung at her side.

"Hi--Hippy, where's the pup?" she questioned weakly.

"Tied to a tree out yonder. Why?"

Emma groped cautiously with the hand, first wishing to assure herself
that she was not imagining, before making an exhibition of herself. The
hand came in contact with what she recognized instantly, as a cold nose.
Light fingers crept gingerly along the nose and paused at a huge, furry
head, now well at her side. She gave a quick, startled glance down at
what lay under her hand, and her face went ghastly pale.

Uttering a hysterical scream, Emma Dean toppled over backwards, crashing
to the cabin floor.

CHAPTER V

OVERLANDERS GET A JOLT

As she went over, Emma Dean's feet hit the under side of the table. Her
plate of venison slid off to the floor, and Hippy Wingate's coffee
landed in his lap. The Overlanders sprang to their feet, but Joe Shafto
sat glaring from one to the other of them in amazement.

"A bear! A bear! A bear under the table," screamed Emma and sank back in
a dead faint.

It was then that the Overland Riders saw what had so frightened her, for
a black bear ambled out from under the table and began gulping down the
venison from Emma's overturned plate. To the eyes of the girls he
appeared to be a huge animal, and his growls, as he swallowed choice
morsels of venison, were far from reassuring.

"Don't be skeert! It's only Henry," cried the forest woman. "Set down!"

No one heeded her advice. Elfreda Briggs was standing on a chair, Anne
Nesbit had run into the garden which she had reached by a short cut
through an open window. Tom and Hippy, having sprung back, were gazing
on the intruder in startled amazement, while Nora Wingate, standing on
the table with one foot in the platter of venison, was screaming.

Grace, who had backed into a corner, was trying to subdue her own
individual panic sufficiently to reason out the situation. Joe Shafto's
words, when Grace finally absorbed them, brought enlightenment.

"Will he bite, Mrs. Shafto?" she called.

"Won't bite nothin' if ye don't bother him."

Grace ran to Emma and bathed her face with water.

"Get down!" commanded Lieutenant Wingate, holding up a hand to Nora.
"Don't you see you're spoiling a perfectly good lot of venison? I never
saw such a parcel of 'fraid cats in all my life."

"Neither did I," grumbled Mrs. Shafto. "I didn't know Henry was down
there or I'd a shooed him out before ye set down."

"I won't get down until that beast is out of the house," declared Nora.
"Whoever heard of such a thing. Don't!"

Hippy pulled her down without ceremony and placed Nora in a chair.

"Behave yourself! You will see more bears, and then some, before you
finish this journey."

Joe took a broom and shooed Henry out into the yard. A scream out there
followed almost instantly, for Henry had ambled around the house to make
the acquaintance of Anne Nesbit.

"The beast is chasing me!" she panted, as she ran back into the house.

No one gave heed to her, so she ran to Nora and the two consoled each
other. In the meantime, Grace had revived Emma.

"Ha--as he gone?" she wailed weakly.

"Yes. That is Mrs. Shafto's tame bear, you silly."

"Merely a voice of nature that you heard, Emma," reminded Hippy. "By the
way, what message did Henry convey to you?"

"Henry is the name of Mrs. Shafto's pet," explained Grace.

"Fright!" moaned Emma in answer to Hippy's question.

"Mrs. Shafto, if you don't mind, I believe I will have another piece of
deer," said Hippy.

"Yer wife stepped in it," replied Joe.

"It's all in the family," observed Hippy, holding out his plate.

One by one the Overlanders returned to the table, with the exception of
Emma, whose appetite had left her, but Hippy had the rest of the
venison all to himself. The meal was finished off with apple pie, and
the girls said they had not eaten so much since their first meals at
home on their return from service in France.

Following the meal, the Overland Riders discussed their proposed journey
with the forest woman, looked over the supplies she had bought and
pronounced themselves satisfied, not only with her purchases, but with
Joe Shafto herself. Nothing more was seen of Henry that evening. The
woman said he probably had gone into the woods to sleep or to forage for
food.

"Where did you get the beast?" questioned Emma.

"When he war a cub. I shot his mother and brought the cub home, and he's
one of the family. I kin make him mind just like a dog, and sick him on
like a dog. I'll call him in and show ye."

"No, no," protested Emma and Nora in chorus.

"I shall dream of bears all night, but don't you dare let him out while
I am here," begged Emma.

"Henry's my watchdog. He sleeps on the front steps, and he'll chaw up
anything that comes in the yard after I git to bed, so keep out or
you'll git bit."

"Oh, I shall keep out, never fear," answered Emma in a tone of voice
that brought a laugh from everyone at the table.

Before leaving Mrs. Shafto that night the Overland girls acquainted her
with such plans as they had made for their outing, Tom telling her of
the work that lay before him and expressing his wish to have the party
as near to his work as possible. "Good nights" finally were said, and
the guests departed for their little camp among the trees. A fire was
built to light up the tents while the girls were arranging their
blankets and preparing themselves for bed.

"Hindenburg gets free range for the night," volunteered Hippy. So, with
the bull pup on watch, all hands turned in, for an early start was to be
made on the following morning. They were awakened by his barking at
daybreak.

Joe Shafto was hallooing to them.

"Git a hustle on ye," she called in answer to Tom Gray's answering hail.

There was a scramble in the camp of the Overlanders, for they desired to
show their guide that they were no novices at breaking camp and getting
under way. Just as they were finishing their breakfasts Joe led over
June and July, and waited observantly while Tom and Hippy rolled their
belongings into packs which Mrs. Shafto lashed to the mules with her own
hands.

"Ye see the twins don't like to have strangers monkeyin' around 'em,"
she explained. "I'll git goin' now and ye kin foller along. I've got to
git Henry first."

"Eh? What's that?" demanded Hippy.

"I don't go nowheres without my Henry."

"You--you aren't going to take that beast with you, are you, Mrs.
Shafto?" cried Emma.

"I sure be, and I reckon ye'll be mighty glad to have him along before
we git through with this here hop into the Big Woods."

Emma groaned dismally.

"Never mind," soothed Hippy. "You can practice your nature reading stunt
on him. Who knows but that you may learn the bear language, so that by
the time we finish our work up here you will be able to go out in the
forest and tell the bears your life history, and listen to them telling
you theirs. Of course they might eat you, but that would not matter."

"Huh!" grunted Miss Dean, elevating her nose and turning her back on
him.

"Mount!" ordered Hippy, after each girl had saddled her pony and stood
waiting for the start. They swung into their saddles with agility, and
jogged out into the road with Hindenburg racing ahead and darting back,
barking joyously. He was already feeling the call of the wild.

"There's Joe," called Emma, as they rounded a bend in the road.

"I do not see the bear," wondered Tom.

"Perhaps she decided to leave him at home to shift for himself. I hope
so."

Grace said she hoped _not_, for the bear would make life interesting for
them.

Joe was sitting on the back of one of her pack mules jogging along,
leading the second mule behind, but, though she must have heard the
Overlanders shout to her, she neither replied nor looked back.
Hindenburg, however, darted ahead and began barking at the mules,
dodging their heels successfully for several minutes, much to the
amusement of the party following. At last, however, he caught a glancing
blow from a mule foot that sent him rolling into the bushes. In a few
moments he was out again, circling mules and rider, barking his angry
protests, then dodging off the trail into the bushes where they heard
him barking with a different note in his voice.

"There comes the bear!" cried Nora. "Look at him!"

"Yes, and there comes Hindenburg bucking the line," added Hippy.

The bear, followed by the dog, burst into sight just at the moment that
Hindenburg nipped the bear's hind leg. Henry whirled, made a pass at the
pup, and missed him. The bear then charged Hindenburg with mouth wide
open, and the battle was on.

[Illustration: The Bear Advanced, Sparring Like a Prize Fighter.]

"Call off yer dog," shouted Joe.

"Call off your bear," answered Hippy Wingate.

The guide tried to do so and failed. Hippy's efforts to draw Hindenburg
from the fray met with no better success.

It was at this juncture that the bear scored first blood. With a well
placed blow of his paw he knocked the pup into the middle of the road,
and the lead mule, at whose heels Hindenburg had fallen, kicked him the
rest of the way into the bushes.

"Sick 'im, Henry!" yelled Joe.

"No you don't," shouted Hippy as the bear ambled across the road in
pursuit of the injured pup.

"I'll learn that fresh pup to bite my bear," flung back the forest
woman.

"And I'll kill that brute of a bear if he gets the pup," retorted Hippy,
galloping his pony to the point at which the two animals had
disappeared, and leaping from Ginger's back, regardless of the risk of
losing his mount.

Hippy plunged into the bushes to the rescue of the bull pup. The dog's
yelps indicated that he was in further trouble, which Hippy discovered
to be the fact when he came in sight of the combatants. Henry was boxing
the unfortunate dog with both fore paws. Hindenburg, from whose mouth
and nose the blood was running, was staggering about weakly, but trying
his utmost to get a hold and hang on.

"Let go, Henry, you brute!" commanded Hippy.

Henry, however, instead of letting go, ambled at the dog with wide open
mouth, thoroughly angered and determined to finish with his teeth the
battle he had begun with his paws.

Lieutenant Wingate sprang into the fray and delivered a kick on the side
of the bear's head with all the strength he could throw into the blow.

Henry rose in his might, rearing on hind legs, and advanced on Hippy,
snarling and showing his teeth, and sparring like a prize fighter.

"That's your game, is it?" jeered the Overland Rider.

_Whack!_

Hippy planted a blow with his fist full on Henry's nose, the most tender
part of a bear's body. Henry reeled, backed away, followed by Lieutenant
Wingate who sparred skillfully, frequently planting other blows on the
tender nose of his adversary.

Boxing with a bear was a new experience for him, but his success thus
far made Hippy careless, and in a particularly savage blow he threw his
body too far forward, missed the nose, and was obliged to spring towards
the animal to save himself from falling.

Henry, despite his rage and aching nose, did not miss his opportunity.
Both powerful front legs closed about Hippy Wingate like a flash, and
the man and the bear went down together.

CHAPTER VI

CAMPING UNDER THE GIANT PINES

Tom Gray heard the two crash into the bushes, as he was on his way to
the scene followed by Joe Shafto and part of the Overland outfit.

As he went down Hippy had the presence of mind to thrust both hands
under the bear's chin and press upward with all his strength, though, in
that tight embrace, it was difficult to do anything except gasp for
breath and wonder how long it would be before he heard the snap of his
ribs breaking in.

With the bear's breath hot on his face, Lieutenant Wingate afterwards
remembered wondering why it was that Henry did not bite when the biting
was good. Never having bitten a human being and having no recollection,
in all probability, of any associates outside of human beings the bear
may not have been inclined to bite.

On the other hand, the bear's temper appeared to be rising, for his
growls were growing more menacing with the seconds.

"Hindenburg! Sick 'im!" gasped Hippy.

He heard the pup, weak from loss of blood, give a feeble yelp, then a
snarl, and in the next second Hindenburg had fastened his teeth in
Henry's neck.

A heavy paw swept Hindenburg away and left him quivering and moaning.
The respite had been sufficient, however, to enable Lieutenant Wingate
to roll out of the clutches of the beast, but his freedom was brief.
Hippy had hardly sprung to his feet when the bear rose and snatched him
again.

It was at this juncture that Tom and the guide arrived, just in time to
see Hippy Wingate deliver another blow squarely on Henry's all too
tender nose.

"Henry!" yelled the woman. "Let go, Henry!"

Henry plainly was in no mood to let go, and it was evident that it was
now his intention to bite and bite hard, for the snarling mouth was wide
open when Joe Shafto sprang to the rescue. Joe carried a hardwood club,
which she evidently carried as a handy weapon.

"Now will ye mind me!" she shrieked, bringing the club down with a
mighty whack on the bridge of Henry's head. "Take that, and that, and
that!" she added, delivering three more resounding whacks.

Henry uttered a howl, released his hold on Hippy Wingate and rolled over
on his back, feet in the air, where he lay whining and plainly begging
for mercy like a child that was being punished.

Hippy had quickly rolled out of the way and jumped up, his face bloody,
and his clothes showing rents where Henry's claws had raked them. Hippy
ran to Hindenburg whom he found whimpering and licking his wounds.

"You poor fish! Why did you do it?" rebuked Lieutenant Wingate.

"Git up!" commanded Joe Shafto, poking Henry in the ribs with her stick.
"Come with me and behave yerself, or I'll wallop ye till ye won't be
able to smell venison for a year of Sundays." The guide fastened on one
of Henry's ears and started for the trail, Henry ambling along meekly at
her side. "Lieutenant, keep that pup away from my Henry," ordered Joe.

"Joe, keep that bear away from my pup," retorted Hippy, carrying
Hindenburg in his arms and gently depositing him in the saddle bag.

"Oh, Hippy, what happened to you?" cried Emma.

"I've been communing with nature," he answered briefly.

"Darlin', let me wipe the blood from your face," crooned Nora. "Did the
naughty bear scratch oo bootiful face?"

The Overlanders shouted and Hippy, very red of face, sprang into his
saddle with such a jolt that Ginger gave him a lively minute of bucking
in which poor Hindenburg got a shaking up that made him whimper.

The forest woman with her mules had already started and was now some
distance in the lead, with her pet bear shuffling along at the edge of
the road abreast of the leading mule.

"Ye git nothin' to eat to-day, Henry. I didn't bring ye up to brawl and
to fit with yaller dogs, ye lazy lout," scolded Joe.

When the party halted for its noon rest and luncheon, Henry sat morosely
at one side of their camping place, now and then licking his chops,
while Hindenburg, performing the same service for his wounds, occupied a
position on the opposite side of the camp. Neither animal appeared to be
aware of the other's existence.

"Behold the forest," said Tom Gray later in the afternoon, halting his
pony on a rise of ground, and encompassing a wide range of country with
a sweep of his arm.

It was an undulating sea of deep green, almost as limitless as the sky
itself, that the Overland Riders gazed upon.

"Them's the Big North Woods," Joe informed them. "We take a log trail
just beyond here, and to-night we'll be in the 'Pineys.'"

"And to-morrow I shall be off and at work," announced Tom.

They were soon picking their way along a shady fragrant trail, tall,
straight, noble pines about them seeming to be vieing with each other in
their efforts to reach the blue sky. The wind now bore a new fragrance,
and the air was heavily pungent with the odor of pine.

"Emma, does your nature cult explain to you why the trees grow so tall
and so straight?" asked Tom, riding up beside Miss Dean.

Emma shook her head.

"Because they are fighting the battle of nature--fighting for existence,
for their very lives, just as all the world of humans is fighting its
battle. A tree must have light and air, or it dies. To get these it must
grow up, it must keep up with its competitors, the trees about it, and
forge ahead of them if possible, ever reaching up and up for sunlight
and air. Once let it fall behind and it is lost; it is overwhelmed by
the sturdier giants; it pales and pines and seems to lose its ambition.
The tree, knowing it has lost its grip, then seems to grow thin and
gaunt, and one day it goes crashing down, to rot and furnish
nourishment for the giants that overwhelmed it. The tree's life, like
ours, is a struggle for existence, with the survival of the fittest."

"Were I a tree I think I should prefer to grow alone out in an open
field," decided Emma.

"Not if you were a wise tree, you would not," laughed Tom. "Out there
you would be the plaything of the winds. Your body would be exposed to
the glaring sun, the full blast of every passing storm, and the bitter
cold of winter, which would, unless you were very hardy, have a tendency
to retard your growth and weaken your vigor. Trees, like humans, do not
enjoy a lonely life, but when they get together they immediately enter
into bitter competition. Isn't that quite human?"

"Where are you heading, Mrs. Shafto?" interrupted Grace, as the guide
struck off, leaving the trail and entering the dense forest.

"Goin' to find a campin' place while I kin see," she answered. Now and
then Joe would halt to examine an old blaze on a tree, occasionally
making a new blaze with her short-handled woodsman's axe on the opposite
side of the tree so that, upon returning along that trail, the new blaze
might be easily seen.

"I fear that I was not born with a woodsman's sense," complained Anne.

"No one is. That is why a woodsman blazes trees," answered Tom. "I do
not know whether you people are familiar with 'blazes.' Grace knows
something about them."

"The only 'blaze' I know anything about is the blaze I make when I try
to start a cook fire," laughed Hippy.

"You will need more knowledge than that if you stray a hundred yards
from camp in the Pineries," replied Tom as they rode along. "A blaze is
made by a single downward stroke of the axe, the object being to expose
a good-sized spot of the whitish sapwood, which, set in the dark
framework of the bark, is a staring mark that is certain to attract
attention."

"Yes, but suppose the traveler tries to find the trail a year or so
later?" questioned the practical Elfreda. "Hasn't it grown up so high
that he can't see it?"

"No. A blaze always remains at its original height above the ground,
because a tree increases its height and girth only by building on top of
the previous growth. There is much of interest that I could tell you
along this line, but I will merely describe the various blazes and their
meanings, leaving the rest until some other time. It is well to remember
that a trail blazed in a forest is likely to have been made either by a
hunter, a lumberman, a timber-looker, or a surveyor. A hunter's line is
apt to be inconspicuous. So is a timber-looker's, because he is
searching for a bonanza and doesn't wish anyone else to discover it. A
surveyor's line is always absolutely straight, except where it meets an
insurmountable object, when it makes a right-angle turn to avoid the
object, then goes straight ahead again.

"All trees that stand directly on the line of a survey have two notches
cut on each side of them and are called 'sight trees.' Bushes on or near
the line are bent by the woodsman at right angles to it.

"When a blaze line turns abruptly so that a person following it might
otherwise overlook it, a long slash is made on that side of the tree
which faces the new direction. There are other forms of blazes, such as
marking section corners, boundaries and the like, which it is
unnecessary for you to know now, but with which it might be wise for you
to familiarize yourselves as you go along. This is the end of your first
lesson."

"There's the fork of the river that we are goin' to camp on," called
Joe, riding down a steep bank, followed by the Overlanders, their ponies
slipping and sliding until they had reached the more level ground near
the stream.

"We camp here," announced the forest woman. "If ye don't like it, pick
out yer own camp. The bear and I stay right here."

Dismounting, Tom strode over to the tree under which Joe had announced
her intention of making camp, and, placing a hand on it, gazed up along
its length, then at the adjacent trees.

"She's stood here for a hundred years or more, and I reckon no wind will
blow her down to-night. All right!" announced Tom.

"Get busy, girls," called Grace.

The Overlanders, dismounting, inhaled deeply of the air, heavily pungent
with the odor of the pine, then set to work with a vim to pitch their
camp. Tom, in the meantime, climbed the bank to look at a huge pile of
logs that lay on a skidway above their camping place.

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