Bones On Black Spruce Mountain Page 4

  The bird fell like a wad of dough. Seth ran forward, excited, frightened, amazed. Now he could hear his father saying, "Kill it quick! Grab its head and wring its neck. Don't make it suffer. Do the job and do it fast!"

  But this first time he had to see, to watch; he had to know what death was, what it looked like. The bird lay thrashing in the dried leaves. It beat its wings faster, harder than it ever had in life. It opened its mouth slowly as if to say something, but no sound came out. Then behind each eye blood appeared and ran slowly down across the soft feathers of its face. The thrashing subsided to a shiver, the shiver to a tremble. Then the bird was still.

  Seth held the warm, limp body in his hand. He started home.

  He had proved his skill as a hunter, and over the years of his life he would prove it again and again, but he was not proud, not the way he had imagined he would be. Neither was he ashamed. As he loped down the logging road heading home, suddenly he felt older. In one afternoon he had become a great deal less a boy.

  "Seth! Seth!" Daniel shouted.

  Seth stood staring at the trout, the partridge, in his hand.

  "Seth!"

  "Huh?"

  “What's the matter?"

  "Oh, nothing."

  With more than enough trout for supper the boys headed back to camp. About halfway there Daniel saw a familiar-looking plant growing in the stream: watercress. It was odd to find watercress growing so far from any human habitation. It usually grew only where someone planted it. The seeds must have been carried to the mountains from a village or a nearby farm in the droppings of a bird. The boys did not question their good fortune, however; instead, they picked a hearty bunch. They could make themselves a delicious salad to go with the feast they were now heading home to prepare.

  It was only the middle of the afternoon, but there was a lot of cooking to be done and they had to get - started. Once back in camp they agreed on the evening's menu—fried trout, baked beans with onions, wilted watercress salad, club bread, and tea—and got to work.

  While Seth started a fire, Daniel put about a half pint of shell beans in the two-quart pail and headed for the brook, where he washed and drained them thoroughly a number of times. When they were well cleaned, he added about a quart of water to the pail and returned to the fire. He hung the pail of beans and water from the cooking range cross pole. Soon it began to simmer. Daniel watched it carefully so that the beans would cook steadily, but not so rapidly that they'd stick to the bottom of the pail. As the beans began to dance in the moving water, he peeled and chopped an onion and added it. Later, after the beans began to soften, he'd add some potatoes, along with a few chunks of salt pork. It would take a couple of hours for the beans and potatoes to cook.

  Meanwhile Seth had mixed flour, salt, sugar, and water in a pan and was kneading the concoction into a stiff dough. When the dough could be molded into a firm, springy ball, Seth set it aside and went into the woods. He cut and peeled a thick ash branch about four feet long, brought it back to camp, sharpened one end, and stuck it in the ground in front of the fire so that it angled above the coals. Then he molded the dough into a long ribbon about two inches wide and one-half inch thick. When the branch was sizzling hot, he wrapped the dough on a diagonal around and around it. As the dough began to brown over the coals, Seth turned the branch occasionally so that the bread baked evenly all around.

  With the two long-cooking dishes for the meal started, the boys could relax and putter. Seth fussed with the fire, moving coals here and there with the tongs, adding a little wood now and then, while Daniel got out the improvised broom, a hemlock branch, and swept the "floor" in front of the camp. Both boys enjoyed hiking and fishing in new territory, but equally enjoyable was this time of hanging around camp, tending the pots, lazing about. There was a dazed, dreamy quality to times like these. The boys didn't talk much that afternoon; they found them-selves slowly mesmerized by the smell of baking bread and beans wafting through the air around them. It was a time to think and dream, to listen to the sounds of the wilderness so different from the sound of their own voices.

  When the potatoes and beans and club bread were done, they were set off to the side of the fire, where they would stay warm but not cook. The boys snacked on the warm bread.

  "Butter! Butter! My kingdom for some butter!" Daniel exclaimed.

  While Seth put the trout to frying, Daniel melted a little bacon grease and poured it over the watercress to wilt and sweeten the sharp, tangy green. They ate, and what a feast it was! Both boys stuffed themselves; even with that there were plenty of leftovers that would be delicious cold the next day.

  After they cleaned the dishes and pots, the boys set a pail of tea to boiling and hung the leftovers and the rest of their food in a tree. Even if a bear did smell the food and come by, it would be out of reach, and soon he would go off in a huff.

  While the tea steeped the boys got out their map and planned the next day's hike to Eagle Ledge and Black Spruce. If they took a compass bearing of south 90 degrees west from the camp, they would arrive at the top of Eagle Ledge by the shortest route. If they struck off south 5 degrees east from there, they would drop down into the hollow between Eagle Ledge and Black Spruce and end up at the high, back side of the mountain. From there they could descend the western face to look for the cave they had heard about for years. By sticking to the compass bearing, they could walk in a straight line and reduce their travel time. According to the map it was only about a mile from their camp to the top of Eagle Ledge, but it would be hard climbing and would probably take most of the morning.

  Both boys now felt the excitement of the adventure before them. The round trip would no doubt take the whole day, and they looked forward to doing some-thing other than fishing.

  There was nothing left of the day now. It was time to watch the final darkness fall down around them, while they sipped their tea, smoked their pipes, and let themselves be hypnotized by the evening fire. Then, out of the brook ravine below them came the clear call of a barred owl.

  "Watch this," Daniel said.

  He turned in the direction of the calling owl, cupped his hands around his mouth, and began making short, high, round noises from deep in his throat, little two-note jumps, four or five of them, followed by a descending, gravelly long note at the end. Daniel waited a long time, then repeated the call. The owl called again and so did Daniel. Another silence. Then the sound of the owl came from somewhere closer. Slowly, little by little, the owl moved up the ravine until, after what seemed like an eternity, the boys saw a dark form glide silently into a tree above the fire. There was no sound, not even the slightest rustle of wings. Seth's mouth dropped open.

  "How did you do . . ."

  At the sound of a human voice the owl dropped from its branch and disappeared into the dark trees.

  "Seth!"

  "Sorry."

  "I'll never get him back now."

  "How did you learn to do that?"

  "I don't know. Just practice, I guess. I've been trying to call owls all summer. I worked on it a long time, until I got the sound just right. Then they started coming."

  "That's amazing. Do you think he really thought you were another owl?" Seth asked.

  "Nah. I think he was down in the ravine and he said to himself, 'There's some crazy kid up there trying to pretend he's an owl. I guess I'll go see what he looks like.'"

  They heard the owl call from upstream near the beaver ponds. Daniel called back, but the owl would not answer.

  "Let's go to bed," Seth suggested. "We've got a hard climb tomorrow, and who knows, maybe we'll find a cave with a skeleton in it. I bet we'll find old tools and bottles and all kinds of stuff too. Man, I can't wait. It's going to be so cool."

  "Yeah" was all Daniel said.

  The boys fixed the fire and climbed inside the lean-to. As they lay quietly, they heard the sound of coyotes in the night. First the full, round yap, then the long, descending wail of an adult animal, then the sudden frantic yips of p
uppies, four, maybe six little wild voices each at a different pitch eagerly trying to imitate their parents but not quite succeeding. The yipping grew and grew until the whole night filled with the raucous noise.

  The boys smiled to themselves. They could see the two adults trying to go about the business of teaching their young to hunt while the puppies paid absolutely no attention but instead chased each other through the woods, tussling and wrestling in a comic mock battle far more interesting to them than the boring task of stalking a mouse.

  The boys listened as the sound moved up Tamarack Brook and headed for the high ground around Morey's sugarhouse. It was beautiful night music.

  Then suddenly from behind the lean-to, off toward Eagle Ledge, came a heart-stopping scream—not a howl, not a wail, but a scream, unlike any sound either boy had ever heard before. It was a horrifying, insane sound that gripped the boys with fear.

  "What was that!" Seth whispered.

  "I don't know."

  Both boys lay frozen in their sleeping bags, too afraid to blink.

  Chapter 5

  They didn't hear the scream again, but in the morning the sound still echoed through their minds.

  "What do you think that was?" Seth asked.

  "I don't know. I can't figure it out. I've heard bobcats before and that wasn't any bobcat. I just don't know."

  The boys let it go at that, but as they prepared and ate breakfast, the memory of the scream hung over them like a bad dream bringing with it a vague but persistent fear of the day to come.

  In spite of their apprehensions they finished break-fast and packed one backpack for the trip. Lunch would be leftovers from last night's supper. Along with the food they put into the pack the fifty-foot length of rope, the flashlight, and two candles, just in case they might be needed. Neither boy was really convinced they'd find a cave, but if they did, they'd need some light.

  After the camp had been tidied and the 'fire well doused, the boys struck off on their predetermined compass bearing. It wasn't long before they began the difficult ascent up the northern side of Eagle Ledge.

  The slope was so steep that the boys had to zigzag across the hillside, moving from tree to tree. Some places where it was particularly steep, they had to seize tree trunks and bushes and move hand over hand in order to make any upward progress. It was a dangerous game. Each small tree had to be inspected before they took hold of it; a dead, rotten tree could give way under the strain and send the boys tumbling down the hillside. On a slope this steep even a short fall might mean serious injury. When they finally reached a plateau near the top, both boys collapsed exhausted onto a soft bed of pine needles beneath the windswept trees.

  They could see now that from where they were it was less than a hundred yards up a gentle slope to the top. They pushed on. They were sure that when they gained the summit they would be able to see a hundred miles in any direction. But when they got there, they found that the top of Eagle Ledge was still well below the tree line and the thick-set spruce and fir blocked their view. They were disappointed. Seth climbed a small spruce.

  "Don't give up yet, Daniel. I can see the top of Black Spruce from here. When we get up there, we'll be able to see the whole world. Let's get going." Now they had to descend into the high, shallow basin that lay between Eagle Ledge and Black Spruce Mountain. When they reached the bottom of the basin, they found a small rivulet.

  "I'm getting hungry," Daniel said. "Let's follow this stream up a little ways. Maybe we can find the spring that starts it and have lunch there. It must be almost noon."

  A few hundred feet farther up the tiny brook, the rivulet disappeared completely. Daniel began shuffling around in the leaves with his feet looking for the wet place that meant the spring. Suddenly one leg dropped a full two feet, well above his knee, into a deep hole filled with water.

  "Ugh, I found the spring!" Daniel said.

  "Guess you did," Seth said, laughing, as Daniel pulled his dripping leg out of the water. "Let's clean it out and have lunch. By the time we finish eating, the water will be clear enough to make tea."

  "Something's funny here," Daniel said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "In a place like this a spring always makes a big soggy area where it comes out of the ground, not just one deep hole."

  The boys began cleaning the spring, raking away leaves with their hands and scooping out twigs and muck.

  "Hey, wait a minute!" Seth exclaimed. "Feel the sides. This spring's been dug out and stoned up!"

  The boys felt, through the water, the carefully placed, circular stone wall of a small well.

  "Who would go to all the trouble of digging out • this spring and stoning up a well?" Seth asked.

  "Maybe some hunter."

  "That's an awful lot of work just to get a drink."

  "Maybe there were some campers here Gist, That's possible," Daniel said.

  "I guess."

  The boys unpacked lunch and ate. By the time lunch was over, the water in the small well had cleared and the boys dipped a pail into the well and made tea. It had been a hard morning's climb, and they needed a cup of tea and a short rest before beginning their assault on the mountain.

  Near the well, stuck like a wart on the side of the basin wall, was a small bulge in the earth about eight feet broad and eight feet high. Daniel settled himself against it while Seth puttered with the last of the fire. As Daniel scrunched around to get comfortable, he suddenly fell backward into a room, a cave inside the bulge. He rolled over quickly and backed out.

  "Seth! Get the flashlight!"

  "What?"

  "Get the flashlight!"

  Hurriedly the boys cleared away the debris from the opening and crawled in. They turned on the light. They were in a small room, maybe six feet wide by six feet long by four feet high. They could see the old logs that had been laid against the basin wall to make the room. This thing was no accident. It was man-made. Or maybe boy-made.

  The flashlight scanned the ceiling, the walls, then the floor. There in the corner was an old shovel and next to it, covered with dust, an old glass canning jar.

  "Daniel, how did . . ."

  Both boys were stunned. They crouched in the center of the dark barrow while the realization of where they were swept through them like a chilling wind.

  The first year, in the fall, some canning jars of vegetables and meat disappeared from the cellar and a couple of horse blankets and an old pair of woolen pants disappeared from the barn. . . . Then the second year no food or clothing disappeared, but a shovel and a hoe came up missing.

  "I'll get the candles," Seth said.

  With the candles lighted and set around the barrow in the loose dirt of the floor, the boys, without saying a word, began searching every inch of the now well-lighted room. The remains of an old horse blanket, the blade of a hoe, a few more canning jars, a small can of nails.

  The story was true!

  Although they had found almost all the things they'd ever heard about in the story, the boys kept searching, looking for that final, absolute confirmation that it was true. Carefully their fingers raked through the dust of generations. Here and there they came upon another piece of metal or a small fragment of cloth, but no skeleton.

  When every inch of the room had been combed, the boys crawled out of the barrow and sat shaken, their eyes squinting in the brilliant light of day.

  "I can't believe it. I just can't believe it," Seth said. "It's true! The story's true!"

  "Well, not all of it."

  "What do you mean?"

  "We didn't find the bones, did we?"

  "No, we didn't, but we know he was here. We know, he spent a few years here."

  "We do not! We've got no proof he spent a winter here. He just couldn't."

  "Maybe he slept. I mean hibernated, like a bear."

  "All winter? Come on, Seth!"

  "Why not?"

  "Because a bear's got a bearskin coat to sleep in.

  That kid didn't."r />
  "How do you know? Maybe he killed a bear and made himself a bearskin to sleep in."

  "Holy cow, Seth, you should write adventure stories. You've got the imagination for it."

  "Really. Maybe he did make it. I've read about how some people can slow their bodies down like they're dead, like a woodchuck. Maybe he did that."

  "Come on."

  "Well, we've got proof he lasted more than one winter. We found stuff Mr. Bateau said was stolen the second and third year. That proves he survived up here."

  "It does not!" Daniel said. "Maybe Mr. Bateau got things mixed up. It was a long time ago and people forget the truth. Maybe the kid stole all that stuff the first fall. The kid could have taken all that stuff, got-ten ready for winter, and then when he realized he couldn't make it, he took off, went away somewhere, took up with some people."

  "That's crazy."

  "Why? It could have happened that way. Maybe the kid got out. Maybe he found a family, somebody to take him in."

  "Daniel, you're just making up a story! You're ignoring all the facts."

  "I am not! If you're so interested in the facts, tell me where the bones are. Where did they go?"

  "Maybe an animal dragged them off, maybe somebody stole them. I don't know what happened to them, and you don't either. I just think he survived up here."

  "What've you got against the kid escaping?" Daniel demanded. "He's got as much right as anybody to have family, doesn't he? What've you got against him finding somebody to live with?"

  "I've got nothing against it! You just keep refusing to believe the story. You've been fighting the truth since the first day. It's all true and you know it; you're just too pigheaded to admit it! What's it take to make you believe?"

  "A lot more!A damn lot more!"

  There was a long silence. Then Daniel began again.