按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
when they arose。 There is no place on earth where the first snow
is more beautiful than in the Adirondacks。 In early autumn
nature seems to prepare for it。 Green leaves are cleared away to
expose the berry bunches in red； rushbeds mass their groups； turn
golden brown and bow their heads to meet the silver load； the low
hills and the lines of various Christmas trees are arrayed for
the finest effect： the setting is perfect and the scene； but it
lacks the lime light yet。 It needs must have the lavish blaze of
white。 And when it comes like the veil on a bride； the silver
mountings on a charger's trappings； or the golden fire in a
sunset； the shining crystal robe is the finishing； the crowning
glory； without which all the rest must fail； could have no bright
completeness。 Its beauty stirred the hunters though it found no
better expression than Rolf's simple words； 〃Ain't it fine；〃
while the Indian gazed in silence。
There is no other place in the eastern woods where the snow has
such manifold tales to tell； and the hunters that day tramping
found themselves dowered over night with the wonderful power of
the hound to whom each trail is a plain record of every living
creature that has passed within many hours。 And though the first
day after a storm has less to tell than the second； just as the
second has less than the third； there was no lack of story in the
snow。 Here sped some antlered buck； trotting along while yet the
white was flying。 There went a fox； sneaking across the line of
march； and eying distrustfully that deadfall。 This broad trail
with many large tracks not far apart was made by one of Skookum's
friends； a knight of many spears。 That bounding along was a
marten。 See how he quartered that thicket like a hound； here he
struck our odour trail。 Mark； how he paused and whiffed it； now
away he goes； yes； straight to our trap。
〃It's down； hurrah！〃 Rolf shouted； for there； dead under the log；
was an exquisite marten； dark； almost black； with a great； broad；
shining breast of gold。
They were going back now toward the beaver lake。 The next trap
was sprung and empty； the next held the body of a red squirrel； a
nuisance always and good only to rebait the trap he springs。 But
the next held a marten； and the next a white weasel。 Others were
unsprung； but they had two good pelts when they reached the
beaver lake。 They were in high spirits with their good luck； but
not prepared for the marvellous haul that now was theirs。 Each
of the six traps held a big beaver； dead； drowned； and safe。
Each skin was worth five dollars； and the hunters felt rich。 The
incident had； moreover； this pleasing significance： It showed
that these beavers were unsophisticated； so had not been hunted。
Fifty pelts might easily be taken from these ponds。
The trappers reset the traps； then dividing the load； sought a
remote place to camp； for it does not do to light a fire near
your beaver pond。 One hundred and fifty pounds of beaver； in
addition； to their packs； was not a load to be taken miles away；
within half a mile on a lower level they selected a warm place；
made a fire； and skinned their catch。 The bodies they opened and
hung in a tree with a view to future use； but the pelts and tails
they carried on。
They made a long； hard tramp that day； baiting all the traps and
reached home late in the night。
Chapter 32。 The Antler…bound Bucks
IN THE man…world； November is the month of gloom； despair； and
many suicides。 In the wild world； November is the Mad Moon。 Many
and diverse the madnesses of the time； but none more insane than
the rut of the white…tailed deer。 Like some disease it appears；
first in the swollen necks of the antler…bearers； and then in the
feverish habits of all。 Long and obstinate combats between the
bucks now； characterize the time； neglecting even to eat； they
spend their days and nights in rushing about and seeking to kill。
Their horns； growing steadily since spring； are now of full size；
sharp； heavy； and cleaned of the velvet； in perfection。 For
what？ Has Nature made them to pierce； wound； and destroy？
Strange as it may seem； these weapons of offence are used for
little but defence； less as spears than as bucklers they serve
the deer in battles with its kind。 And the long； hard combats
are little more than wrestling and pushing bouts； almost never do
they end fatally。 When a mortal thrust is given； it is rarely a
gaping wound； but a sudden springing and locking of the antlers；
whereby the two deer are bound together； inextricably；
hopelessly； and so suffer death by starvation。 The records of
deer killed by their rivals and left on the duel…ground are few；
very few and far between。 The records of those killed by
interlocking are numbered by the scores。
There were hundreds of deer in this country that Rolf and Quonab
claimed。 Half of them were bucks； and at least half of these
engaged in combat some times or many times a day； all through
November； that is to say； probably a thousand duels were fought
that month within ten miles of the cabin。 It was not surprising
that Rolf should witness some of them； and hear many more in the
distance。
They were living in the cabin now； and during the still； frosty
nights； when he took a last look at the stars； before turning in；
Rolf formed the habit of listening intently for the voices of
the gloom。 Sometimes it was the 〃hoo…hoo〃 of the horned…owl；
once or twice it was the long； smooth howl of the wolf； but many
times it was the rattle of antlers that told of two bucks far up
in the hardwoods； trying out the all…important question； 〃Which
is the better buck？〃
One morning he heard still an occasional rattle at the same place
as the night before。 He set out alone； after breakfast； and
coming cautiously near； peered into a little； open space to see
two bucks with heads joined； slowly； feebly pushing this way and
that。 Their tongues were out； they seemed almost exhausted； and
the trampled snow for an acre about plainly showed that they had
been fighting for hours； that indeed these were the ones he had
heard in the night。 Still they were evenly matched； and the
green light in their eyes told of the ferocious spirit in each of
these gentle…looking deer。
Rolf had no difficulty in walking quite near。 If they saw him；
they gave slight heed to the testimony of their eyes； for the
unenergetic struggle went on until； again pausing for breath；
they separated； raised their heads a little； sniffed； then
trotted away from the dreaded enemy so near。 Fifty yards off；
they turned； shook their horns； seemed in doubt whether to run
away； join battle again； or attack the man。 Fortunately the
first was their choice； and Rolf returned to the cabin。
Quonab listened to his account； then said： 〃You might have been
killed。 Every buck is crazy now。 Often they attack man。 My
father's brother was killed by