Читать книгу Marooned in the Forest - A. Hyatt Verrill - Страница 6

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I was awakened by a shaft of sunlight striking my face, and opened my eyes to find the day well advanced. My first thought was of the fire, which had burned completely out. A thread of bluish smoke rose from the heap of ashes, however, and by raking these aside and thrusting bits of birch bark amid the embers I soon had a new blaze started, which I piled high with dry wood. I was wonderfully strengthened and refreshed by my long sleep, but I was all but famished, and as soon as the fire was going well I hurried to the river for more mussels. I found a few here and a few there, and with a dozen or two went back to the fire and presently was breakfasting off the shell-fish. I realized that while these would serve to prevent me from dying of hunger and they were wonderfully welcome in my present starved condition, I would be forced to search for something else to eat very soon. In the first place, the supply of the bivalves was limited. They would, I felt, prove far from palatable save when I was very hungry, and I doubted how much nourishment was contained in their flabby meat.

Had I possessed firearms or even fishing-tackle my plight would not have been bad, for birds and animals could, I knew, be readily found in the woods, while trout and other fish were abundant everywhere in the wilderness streams. As I ate my mussels I sought to devise some method of securing game, but every plan that occurred to me was spoiled by some unsurmountable obstacle which arose. I had often snared game and had even caught partridges with a slender noose on the end of a pole—for in the north woods these birds sit stupidly upon the low fir-trees and allow the hunter to pull them from their perches without taking flight. But a snare required a fine line, a slender wire, or a horsehair, and I had none. Fishing with a line was cast aside as out of the question for the same reason, with the added lack of a hook. Then a bow and arrow occurred to me, but I soon realized that arrows without feathers or sharp, heavy points would be impossible, and that neither heads nor feathers were within reach. Then I thought of spears, for I knew that many savage tribes used spears both in fishing and in hunting, and I decided to try my skill at harpooning some unsuspicious fish or some unusually stupid partridge. It was a long time before I could find a straight, light stick for a haft, but at last I found a slender pole of weathered, dried spruce cast up by the river, and, by dint of whittling and trimming, this was worked into a very straight, well-balanced shaft which I judged would fulfil my requirements. I tried throwing it several times and found it easy to handle, but that it could not be depended upon, for one end was nearly as heavy as the other and it would fly sideways and strike a glancing blow as frequently as it would strike end on.

I realized that a head of some sort was required, but this I could not furnish, and rather than lose all the time I had spent on it I determined to try my hand at spearing a fish before throwing my weapon aside. Whittling the end to a sharp point and cutting numerous barbs, or notches, in it, I walked to the river and looked carefully into each pool and backwater. I saw several fish, but each flitted out of view as the spear was plunged downward, and I was about to abandon my attempts when luck favored me. Approaching one small pool, I gave a little start as a great bullfrog leaped almost from beneath my feet with a loud croak. A moment later he appeared on the farther side of the pool, his goggly eyes just showing above the water, and, approaching him carefully, I drove my sharpened stick at his big, green body. It was a lucky stroke, for the frog was fairly impaled upon the stick, and I drew my first victim from his watery home with a wonderful feeling of elation to think that unaided and alone I had actually succeeded in hunting and capturing a live, wild creature to serve my needs.

Strangely enough, frogs had not occurred to me hitherto, but, now that I had obtained one, I bestirred myself to capture a number. I realized that with my crude spear I could not expect to kill many frogs, and that my first success was pure luck more than anything else. Many a time when a boy I had speared frogs when spending my summers on a farm, and now that frogs were in my mind I remembered the two- or three-pronged spears which the farmers’ boys used. I was still hungry, and while my frog was broiling I busied myself in making a real frog-spear. It was not a difficult task. I had only to attach two slender, barbed pieces of hard wood to the sides of my spear. I had some trouble in binding them on, but I sacrificed strips of my clothing for the purpose, and although the completed spear was very crude, I felt sure it would serve its purpose. I knew, however, that it would soon be blunted and broken among the rocks of the river and I also knew that in such spots frogs would be scarce and that in muddy or stagnant pools I would stand a much better chance of finding them. No swamps or pools were in the immediate vicinity, but I had little doubt that I could find some by a short tramp. I was very anxious to try my spear, but I also realized that I must give time and thought to constructing a shelter to protect me in case of rain, and, reluctantly abandoning my frog-hunt for the time being, I gave my whole attention to the problem of house-building. I had seen many a shack or “lean-to” built and had helped at the work myself, but without an ax I knew that to build even the smallest and simplest shelter would necessitate a tremendous amount of hard labor and would present almost insurmountable difficulties. With only a pocket-knife to cut the necessary trees, poles, and branches, I would be obliged to make the shack of small stuff, and I trembled to think what fate might have in store for me if I should break my knife in an attempt to cut tough branches from the trees.

However, if I was to have a shelter at all it behooved me to begin at once, and I started forth to select a site for my home. I found a sheltered, dry knoll with good drainage a short distance from the river and with plenty of building material in the form of balsam firs, pines, and birches near at hand. I first selected two young trees, about five feet apart, and from these I cut the lower branches, leaving the stubs projecting a few inches. Across two of these I placed a light spruce pole and from the ends of this I laid other poles extending back at an angle to the ground.

This all sounds very simple and easy, now that I come to write it down, but as a matter of fact it required hours of hard, back-breaking, hand-blistering work, and by the time this much was accomplished I was faint with hunger. I succeeded in finding and eating a few mussels, but I had no time to devote to frog-hunting, and hurried back to my house-building. Across the two slanting poles other lighter poles were placed, and over these the broad “fans” of fir were spread like shingles, the lowest layer being placed first with each succeeding layer overlapping the last. This was comparatively easy work, for the twigs were small and easy to cut, and by late afternoon I had a shack which, though not by any means complete, was far better than nothing but the blue sky for a shelter.

HOW THE “LEAN-TO” WAS BUILT

I had an hour or two of daylight left, and determined to look for a likely spot for frogs. I dared not walk far into the forest for fear of losing my way in the fading afternoon light, but even a tramp of a few hundred yards away from the river was enough to convince me that there were no swamps or ponds in the vicinity, for the ground was quite hilly and rocky. Deciding that my only chance lay in finding stray frogs in the pools of the river, I walked down-stream for some distance, searching carefully wherever there was a backwater or a puddle of water along the shore. I found a number of mussels, which I pocketed, but no sign of frogs until I had traveled perhaps half a mile from my fire. At this point a small brook fell in a tiny cascade over the bank into the river, and, clambering up, I found that the little stream ran through an open vale or glade luxuriant with ferns, brush, and rank-growing plants. The stones over which it flowed were dark with a coating of moss, and in the deep, still pools between the boulders I caught glimpses of great speckled trout lurking in the shadows. It was an ideal trout-brook and I tried my best to spear one of the beautiful fish, but without success. However, I was rather pleased at my discovery, for even without fishing-tackle I felt confident that I could dam up one of the pools, bail out the water, and catch the trout with my hands. But there was no time for this just then. In the hope of finding a frog I went on up the brook. I had all but given up in despair when I reached a second miniature waterfall, and above this cascade I came upon a little pond surrounded by alders and birches. It was a cool, shady spot and the dark, black water flecked with patches of green weeds and lily-pads gave promise of frogs. Hardly had I reached the edge of the pool when I spied a fine bullfrog squatting among the weeds, and a moment later he had been successfully speared. I was delighted with the success of my crude weapon and crept cautiously around the pond, seeking more victims. Frogs were plentiful and were very tame, for probably man had never disturbed them, and before the growing dusk warned me that it was time to return to my camp I had obtained seven fine, big hoppers. As I was making my way toward the brook and the cascade I was startled by some good-sized creature which sprang from the grass at the border of the pond and plunged into the water. A moment later I saw a furry, brown head followed by a silvery, rippling wake, cleaving the placid surface of the pond, and realized that the animal which had caused my momentary fright was merely a harmless muskrat. I stopped and watched the creature for several moments and longed to be able to secure him, for I well knew that muskrats are edible and are even esteemed a delicacy. More than once I had eaten their tender, white meat when cooked by Joe. It was useless to give the matter any consideration, however, for without a gun the muskrat was far beyond my reach, and reluctantly I proceeded on my way.

Presently I noticed a path-like trail winding through the grass and weeds, and, looking closely, discovered the imprint of little feet upon the soft and muddy ground. I recognized the muskrat’s runway, and with the realization came the thought that I might trap the rats. To be sure, I had no traps at hand, but I had seen deadfalls set in the woods by the fur trappers and, while my memory was hazy as to just how they were arranged, I felt quite confident that my ingenuity would find a way to rig up some sort of snare or deadfall which would serve my purpose. With my mind filled with such thoughts I made my way back to my fire, which I reached just as darkness fell upon the wilderness. I dined well that night on frogs, and placed my mussels in a pool beside the river as a reserve for another day.

Much of the evening I spent experimenting with bits of twigs and sticks of wood, endeavoring to devise a deadfall, and by dint of racking my memory for details of traps I had seen, and by trying various methods, I finally discovered several different triggers which I felt would work, and, well satisfied with my day’s labors and success, I fell asleep upon a bed of soft fir branches in the lean-to.

A couple of the frogs, which I had kept over, with a few mussels, served for my breakfast the next morning, and I then set diligently at work to complete my shelter, for a light shower had fallen during the night and my clothes were soaking wet when I awoke. To make the roof water-tight was my first consideration and to accomplish this I peeled sheets of birch bark from the trees, laid them like shingles on the roof, and secured them in place by rocks from the river-bed. At first I had trouble in preventing the stones from sliding and rolling off the slanting roof, but I soon devised a means of holding them in position by placing light branches across the roof and catching their ends on the projecting stubs of the roof timbers. In many ways I was greatly handicapped for want of string or rope. It occurred to me that strips of birch bark might serve, but I soon found that this had no strength to speak of, and I determined to try other materials. The Indians, I well knew, used bark, roots, and withes for rope, but I had no knowledge of the particular barks, roots, or withes which they employed, and I set myself to experimenting with everything that grew in the neighborhood. I soon eliminated many as useless, although certain roots appeared tough and fibrous, but these were all too gnarled and knobby or too short to serve as string. It was then that I began to realize how little I really knew of woodcraft or forest lore, although I had spent so many vacations in the woods. No doubt Joe or any other woodsman would have found life easy and simple if cast, as I was, upon his resources in the forest, but I had depended so completely upon others’ knowledge that I was obliged to seek blindly for the simplest things and only occasionally remembered some trifling bit of woodcraft which I had seen when in Joe’s company in the forest.

While thinking of this I was sitting beside my hut. When I attempted to rise, my hand came in contact with a sharp stub projecting from the earth. It was a small thing—merely a twig which I had cut off while clearing the open space before my shelter—and to avoid further trouble with it, I grasped it and strove to pull it up. Much to my surprise, it resisted my efforts. Seizing it with both hands, I jerked at it with all my strength. Slowly it gave, and then, with a ripping sound, broke from the loose, thin earth, and I tumbled backward and sprawled upon the ground. I was curious to learn how such a small thing could be so strongly embedded in the soil and I examined it carefully. Attached to the bit of stem was a mass of long, fibrous roots. Seizing one of these, I attempted to break it. I twisted and pulled, but the root remained intact, and suddenly it dawned upon me that here was the very material I desired—that these roots were as strong and tough as hempen rope, and that by merest accident I had stumbled upon the very thing for which I had been searching. Unfortunately, I did not know what plant the roots belonged to, for only an inch or two of stem remained, and while the supply of roots it bore would serve my present needs, I was very anxious to learn the identity of the useful growth in case I should require more roots in the future. With this end in view I set about comparing the bark and wood with other young sprouts in the vicinity, and whenever one resembled it I pulled it up and examined the roots. I searched for some time before I was rewarded, and discovered that my lucky find was a young hemlock. Pine fir, spruce, and other trees I had tried in vain, but hemlocks were not abundant, and those about were mostly large and had been passed by in my former search. Now that I had discovered a source of supply of binding materials, many problems which had confronted me were simplified and I was greatly encouraged.

It must not be supposed that during these first days of my life in the wilderness I had given no thought to making my way to the settlements. In fact, this matter was ever present in my mind, but the very first day I had decided that before I attempted to make my way out of the woods I must be equipped to secure food, provide shelter, and make fires. Anxious as I was to reach civilization, yet I knew how foolhardy it would be to start blindly forth, trusting to luck for food or shelter, and with my limited knowledge of woodcraft. Here, where I had been cast ashore, I was safe, at any rate, provided I could secure enough to eat, and I determined to make my headquarters at this spot until I could learn by experience something of the resources of the forest and how to make use of them. Already I had acquired much useful knowledge, and I felt that if I could only succeed in trapping animals or snaring birds I could start forth on my weary tramp in comparative safety as far as starvation was concerned.

I should have felt far more confident if I could have carried food with me, and I wondered if it would be possible to dry or cure frogs, mussels, or other meat. I knew that the Indians dried venison and made pemmican, which I had frequently eaten, and I had heard of certain tribes who subsisted upon dried salmon, but venison was unattainable with my present resources, and I was not at all sure that trout, even if I succeeded in obtaining them, would dry like salmon. Finally I decided to experiment, and, lacking all else, to carry a supply of live mussels along when I set forth. These shells, I knew, would live for several hours without water, and, as I intended to follow the river, I could easily keep them alive by frequent immersions in the water. Such thoughts brought up the question of vegetables, and I wondered if in these woods there were edible roots or tubers of any kind.

I remembered many boyhood books and stories telling of men lost in the woods and subsisting upon roots and berries, but, try as I might, I could not remember a single one which told just what roots and berries provided sustenance for the fictitious heroes.

Berries, I felt sure, existed somewhere in the woods, but, aside from blueberries or blackberries and the tiny scarlet partridge berries, I knew of none which were edible, and I smiled to think how hungry I would be if I depended upon the meager and uncertain supply of such things for a livelihood. Once, when a youngster, I had dug up and eaten ground-nuts, but they were gritty, tasteless things, and moreover I could only tell where they grew by the delicate white flowers which bloomed only in the spring. Nuts did not exist in this forest, or, if they did, they were not ripe at this season, and I therefore cast aside all ideas of securing a supply of vegetable food. Determined to try my hand at trapping and also to attempt to capture some trout, I started again for the brook, carrying a supply of hemlock roots and my spear. It occurred to me that by braiding fine roots together I could devise a fishing-line, but the question of a hook then confronted me and I decided to try my plan of bailing the water from a pool before experimenting with hookmaking.

I soon found a pool containing several fine fish, and cautiously, for fear the trout might slip out among the stones, I piled gravel and small rocks in all the visible crevices which connected the pool with the running waters of the brook. This accomplished, I piled rocks across the little channel where the brook ran into the pool, and by chinking all the crevices with grass, twigs, and mud I at last had the satisfaction of seeing the water diverted to one side. The pool, with its fish, now remained cut off from the surrounding water, and all I had to do was to scoop out the contents, leave the trout floundering about on the bottom, and pick them up with my hands. This all sounds very simple and easy, but I had no scoop with which to bail out the water, and until I attempted the work I did not dream what a task I had set myself. I first tried bailing out the water with my hands, but as fast as I threw it out more oozed in through tiny crevices and I soon gave this up as impossible. Then it occurred to me that one of my shoes might serve as a dipper and, removing it from my foot, I tried to throw out the water by this means. I did succeed in making some progress, but very little, and I commenced to think that all my work had gone for naught when a bit of birch bark caught my eye and I had an inspiration. Many a time I had used birch-bark dippers and cups for drinking, when in camp with Joe, and I had seen boxes, packs, and other utensils made of the material. In fact, Joe had once proved to me that water could be boiled in a birch-bark dish, and I laughed to think how I had so far overlooked the manifold uses to which the bark could be put. It took but a few moments to strip a large sheet of bark from a convenient tree, and but a few moments more to bend this into a deep, boxlike form. The ends were easily secured by means of the hemlock roots, and with the bark dipper, which would easily hold a gallon of water, I proceeded to empty the pool. In a very short time the water was reduced to an inch or two at the bottom and the flashing, bright-colored fish were flopping about among the stones.

Four fine trout were the reward of my labors, and, placing them in my birch-bark dipper and covering them with cool leaves, I set them among the bushes beside the brook to await my return and then made my way toward the muskrat runway to set the trap.

SETTING THE DEADFALL

I did not know what sort of food the muskrat ate and I therefore decided to arrange a trap which would be sprung by the rat passing along the trail. First I placed a smooth stick of wood across the run, and on either side among the grass I drove two stakes with a space of a few inches between them. In this space I slipped a fairly heavy log which I found beside the pond, and I then lashed the tops of the stakes together so the log could slide readily up and down between the stakes which served as guides, and across the lashing of roots I laid a light stick. For a trigger I selected an “L”-shaped twig, and from one end of this I tied a strong root, with the other end of the fastening looped about the heavy log. This was adjusted until, when the trigger was placed across the light stick between the uprights, the heavy log was raised a few inches above the log set in the pathway. Next a very light stick was placed just above the lower log and the end of the trigger was placed resting against this, so that the pressure of the drop-log forced the trigger against the stakes. It was a very simple arrangement, but I knew that if any creature attempted to pass over the log upon the ground he would of necessity move the trigger-stick and allow the log to drop upon his back. The trap being set, I spent some time in securing a supply of frogs about the pond, and then started toward camp. I soon reached the brook and turned aside for the trout in their birch-bark receptacle, thinking with pleasurable anticipation of the fine meal in store for me.

HOW THE DEADFALL WAS ARRANGED

I passed the pool, which was now rapidly filling up again, pushed aside the bushes, and gave a gasp of astonishment—the birch-bark dish was lying on its side, absolutely empty.