Part 2 (1/2)
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Sometimes they went out together and sometimes singly. One day, while out alone, Yan had followed a deer-track into a thicket by what is now called Chaska Lake. The sign was fresh, and as he sneaked around there was a rustle in the brush. Then he saw the kinnikinnick boughs shaking. His gun flew up and covered the spot. As soon as he was sure of the place he meant to fire. But when he saw the creature as a dusky moving form through the twigs, he awaited a better view, which came, and he had almost pulled the trigger when his hand was stayed by a glimpse of red, and a moment later out stepped--Chaska.
”Chaska,” Yan gasped, ”I nearly did for you.”
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For reply the Indian drew his finger across the red handkerchief on his brow. Yan knew then one reason why a hunting Indian always wears it; after that he wore one himself.
One day a flock of prairie-chickens flew high overhead toward the thick Spruce Woods. Others followed, and it seemed to be a general move. Chaska looked toward them and said, ”Chickens go hide in bush.
Blizzard to-night.”
It surely came, and the hunters stayed all day by the fire. Next day it was as fierce as ever. On the third day it ceased somewhat, and they hunted again. But Chaska returned with his gun broken by a fall, and after a long silent smoke he said:
”Yan hunt in Moose Mountain?”
”No!”
”Good hunting. Go?”
Yan shook his head.
Presently the Indian, glancing to the eastward, said, ”Sioux tracks there to-day. All bad medicine here.” And Yan knew that his mind was made up. He went away and they never met again, and all that is left of him now is his name, borne by the lonely lake that lies in the Carberry Hills.
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VI
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”There are more deer round Carberry now than ever before, and the Big Stag has been seen between Kennedy's Plain and the mill.” So said a note that reached Yan away in the East, where he had been chafing in a new and distasteful life. It was the beginning of the hunting season, the fret was already in his blood, and that letter decided him. For a while the iron horse, for a while the gentle horse, then he donned his moosehide wings and flew as of old on many a long, hard flight, to return as so often before.
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Then he heard that at a certain lake far to the eastward seven deer had been seen; their leader a wonderful buck.
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With three others he set out in a sleigh to the eastward lake, and soon found the tracks--six of various sizes and one large one, undoubtedly that of the famous Stag.
How utterly the veneer was torn to tatters by those seven chains of tracks! How completely the wild paleolithic beast stood revealed in each of the men, in spite of semi-modern garb, as they drove away on the trail with a wild, excited gleam in every eye!
It was nearly night before the trail warmed up, but even then, in spite of Yan's earnest protest, they drove on in the sleigh. And soon they came to where the trail told of seven keen observers looking backward from a hill, then an even sevenfold chain of twenty-five-foot bounds. The hunters got no glimpse at all, but followed till the night came down, then hastily camped in the snow.
In the morning they followed as before, and soon came to where seven spots of black, bare ground showed where the deer had slept.
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