Chapter 46. Nursing Hoag
In two hours the red man reached the trapper's shanty, and at once, without hesitation or delicacy, set about a thorough examination of its contents. Of course there was the toboggan on the roof, and in fairly good condition for such a shiftless owner.
There were bunches of furs hanging from the rafters, but not many, for fur taking is hard work; and Quonab, looking suspiciously over them, was 'not surprised to see the lynx skin he had lost, easily known by the absence of wound and the fur still in points as it had dried from the wetting. In another bundle, he discovered the beaver that had killed itself, for there was the dark band across its back.
The martens he could not be sure of, but he had a strong suspicion that most of this fur came out of his own traps.
He tied Hoag's blankets on the toboggan, and hastened back to where he left the two on the mountain.
Skookum met him long before he was near. Skookum did not enjoy Hoag's company.
The cripple had been talking freely to Rolf, but the arrival of the Indian seemed to suppress him.
With the wounded man on the toboggan, they set out, The ground was bare in many places, so that the going was hard; but, fortunately, it was all down hill, and four hours' toil brought them to the cabin.
They put the sick man in his bunk, then Rolf set about preparing a meal, while Quonab cut wood.
After the usual tea, bacon, and flour cakes, all were feeling refreshed. Hoag seemed much more like himself. He talked freely, almost cheerfully, while Quonab, with Skookum at his feet, sat silently smoking and staring into the fire.
After a long silence, the Indian turned, looked straight at the trapper, and, pointing with his pipestem to the furs, said, “How many is ours?”
Hoag looked scared, then sulky, and said; “I dunno what ye mean. I'm a awful sick man. You get me out to Lyons Falls all right, and ye can have the hull lot,” and he wept.
Rolf shook his head at Quonab, then turned to the sufferer and said: “Don't you worry; we'll get you out all right. Have you a good canoe?”
“Pretty fair; needs a little fixing.”
The night passed with one or two breaks, when the invalid asked for a drink of water. In the morning he was evidently recovering, and they began to plan for the future.
He took the first chance of wispering to Rolf, “Can't you send him away? I'll be all right with you.” Rolf said nothing.
“Say,” he continued, “say, young feller, what's yer name?”
“Rolf Kittering.”
“Say, Rolf, you wait a week or ten days, and the ice 'll be out; then I'll be fit to travel. There ain't on'y a few carries between here an' Lyons Falls.”
After a long pause, due to Quonab's entry, he continued again: “Moose River's good canoeing; ye can get me out in five days; me folks is at Lyons Falls.” He did not say that his folks consisted of a wife and boy that he neglected, but whom he counted on to nurse him now.
Rolf was puzzled by the situation.
“Say! I'll give ye all them furs if ye git me out.” Rolf gave him a curious look—as much as to say, “Ye mean our furs.”
Again the conversation was ended by the entry of Quonab.
Rolf stepped out, taking the Indian with him. They had a long talk, then, as Rolf reentered, the sick man began:
“You stay by me, and git me out. I'll give ye my rifle” —then, after a short silence— “an' I'll throw in all the traps an' the canoe.”
“I'll stay by you,” said Rolf, “and in about two weeks we'll take you down to Lyons Falls. I guess you can guide us.”
“Ye can have all them pelts,” and again the trapper presented the spoils he had stolen, “an' you bet it's your rifle when ye get me out.”
So it was arranged. But it was necessary for Quonab to go back to their own cabin. Now what should he do? Carry the new lot of fur there, or bring the old lot here to dispose of all at Lyons Falls?
Rolf had been thinking hard. He had seen the evil side of many men, including Hoag. To go among Hoag's people with a lot of stuff that Hoag might claim was running risks, so he said:
“Quonab, you come back in not more than ten days. We'll take a few furs to Lyons Falls so we can get supplies. Leave the rest of them in good shape, so we can go out later to Warren's. We'll get a square deal there, and we don't know what at Lyon's.”
So they picked out the lynx, the beaver, and a dozen martens to leave, and making the rest into a pack, Quonab shouldered them, and followed by Skookum, trudged up the mountain and was lost to view in the woods.
The ten days went by very slowly. Hoag was alternately querulous, weeping, complaining, unpleasantly fawning, or trying to insure good attention by presenting again and again the furs, the gun, and the canoe.
Rolf found it pleasant to get away from the cabin when the weather was fine. One day, taking Hoag's gun, he travelled up the nearest stream for a mile, and came on a big beaver pond. Round this he scouted and soon discovered a drowned beaver, held in a trap which he recognized at once, for it had the (” ' “') mark on the frame. Then he found an empty trap with a beaver leg in it, and another, till six traps were found. Then he gathered up the six and the beaver, and returned to the cabin to be greeted with a string of complaints:
“Ye didn't ought to leave me like this. I'm paying ye well enough. I don't ax no favours,” etc.
“See what I got,” and Rolf showed the beaver. “An' see what I found;” then he showed the traps. “Queer, ain't it,” he went on, “we had six traps just like them, and I marked the face just like these, and they all disappeared, and there was a snowshoe trail pointing this way. You haven't got any crooked neighbours about here, have you?”
The trapper looked sulky and puzzled, and grumbled, “I bet it was Bill Hawkins done it” ; then relapsed into silence.