BACK TO CIVILIZATION

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 150, 26 June 1937, Page 8 (Supplement)

BACK TO CIVILIZATION

J?So32 rr y L. Williams"

CHAPTER VI. "Do any of you know the Liard country?" he asked. "You don't? Well, it's north and a little west of here. A fast, sizeable kind of river that flows north into the Mackenzie. It's tine trapping country, or was 20 years ago, when I was there, but hard to get into. From my trapline it was six weeks either way in and out to the Hudson Bay post at the Hope Landing. This particular year I took a breed with me as partner, a young buck from Slave Lake, a good trapper, but a poor man in 'white water,' as it turned out. "Well, late in the summer we hit out up the Peace with a good canoeload of grub. We portaged across to the Liard and then all we had to do wae take it easy and run a few rapids. We were just a couple of days from my base cabin when the bieed lost his paddle. Lost it when we were half way through the worst r«n in the canyon. He was bowman. It wasn't long before the bottom was torn out of her. We hit square on to a rock I never even saw from my seat in the stern. There was no chance of swimming; all I could do wag keep afloat and try not to swallow more than half the river. At the foot of the rapids I made it to shore with my blanket roll. I saw it floating past, all that wae left of a 000-doliar outfit. The breed was already out and he'd saved his rifle. My .30 wa* at the bottom of the river. There was only one thing for it. He took one of my blankets and started back to the Hope for more gruh. Going straight across country he'd make it before snowfall. He had the rifle and half a belt full of shells and game was plentiful. He was to pet another grubstake, from i the factor, buy a dogteam and bring ! the outfit in after freeze-up. j

''In my cache at the main cabin was flour enough left from last winter to carry me a couple of months, ali=o a .22 and quite a few shells.

'•Well, everything was at the cabin as I'd left it and I settled down to doing the routine work, cutting the winter's wood, looking over the line, building lynx houses, setting baits;

THE SEQUEL TO "PERIL IN THE ROCKIES."

»i fact, getting: ready for the trapping just as though I had a cache full of grub and a good outfit. "Then came the snow, a heavv fall from the first. That staved", but then came another, still heavier. Two weeks of zero, then two days 'chinook.' On top of that it went down to 10 below zero and stayed there. You can imagine the crust there was. I could .20 out anywhere in the open without snow-shoes on three feet of snow and never leave a track.

"The days went by; grub was getting low, cartridges almost done and I loathed the sight of rabbits. I'd eaten dozens. Even now'the sight of some woman's 'genuine musquash' makes me feel squeamish. There were eight shells left when I went out in the hope of getting a ptarmigan.

"I must have travelled an hour when I found game. It wasn't birds, but a full-grown bull moose. My mouth watered. Juicy moose steaks

all brown and running with ?rary! T looked at my popgun of a .22. "it simply wasn't done, but I was hungry enough to try anything. "I had come up wind. He stood there, head up, peering shortsightedly around and snuffing the wind trying to pick up my scent. One whiff ami 'he'd be off' like a streak. At 30 yard*; I drew a bead on his car, the only spot in his whole body likely to he vulnerable to my tiny bullets. He jumped at the "report but the bullet only made him shake his head. I tried a couple more with no better result. I moved for a better position. He spotted me. He was in a dangerous mnod to start with, just about to shed his antlers and feeling very cranky. Then this man had come along and stung him worse than any moose fly. His legs were badly cut by the ' snow crust and he was mad. ''The next moment he was coming at me. I took a snap shot, then shinned up a poplar. Just in time. The rifle was lying broken, trampled in the snow. "At first it was funny, then annoying. After a while I began to see that he had me. I couldn't get down; those knife-like hooves would pound me to death in a moment. The sun was sinking. Shortly it would be too cold for me to sit still outside and live. "The bull was moving round. He hit a tree with his shoulder, moved away; soon after he touched another. Something was wrong. I watched him carefully. It w ; as always his left sidev Then I noticed his eye. His leit eye; my last shot had caught him there. He was blind on one side.

'I watched my chance. I had a bowie knife and out there was a moose, meat enough to feed me all winter. He grunted a few times and lay down. He was playing a waiting game. "When I thought the time right I elid down. He didn't hear me and I

moved round carefully so as to be on his blind side. A quick rush, a slash at that mighty throat and then le" it for a tree. That's what I intended!

"He was too quick. As I reached him he was on his legs, swim" towards me. There was no choice. There was but one place for me, right on that moose's back. '•I jumped and straddled him just hack of the hump. Things began to happ«n. Three great leaps that almost tore my hands from their grip on his long shoulder hair. He whirled, made short rushes through the willow brush, did everything a mad moose could think of to shake me. He did his best, but the hardcrusted snow hampered him and I managed to hang on. Then changing his tactics he lifted his nose so that his antlers lay back along his neck and set off through the timber at the swift steady moose trot of his kind, straight as a die for the river.

"Now I could see what the cunning brute had in mind. The river was still open where the water ran swift; he'd shift me by swimming. Soon we were on the open flats with no trees handy. I daren't jump, even had I wished. "He was going slower now. In the open the snow had blown into Srreat drifts before freezing. Slower and slower. The crust had cut his Ipjrs to ribbons. I could see the snow bloodstained in his tracks. I felt sorry for the old chap, but it was him or me. "Somehow I had managed to keep a grip on the knife. He started into a deeper drift. It was my chance. I leaned forward. A quick slash. "He ran for a- few yards, stood heaving, gurgling—staggered a pace and then went down. (To be continued.)