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Mari, Our Little Norwegian Cousin

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<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> <div class='chaptertitle'>THE LUMBER CAMP</div> The whole family were awake bright and early the next morning. Mari and Greta helped their mother in packing the birch-bark knapsack with the provisions their father needed to carry with him to the forest. There must be a good supply of dried meat and fish, sugar, butter, and flour. Last, but not least, the coffee was packed safely inside. What would the good man and his helpers do without this refreshing drink? When they returned to the hut after a day's chilling work, a bowl of hot coffee would fill them with new life. "Ole and I will come next week and bring you fresh supplies," said Henrik, as his father[93] bade them good-bye and the three men started out on their snow-shoes over the crisp snow. They were soon out of sight and the rest of the family returned to their work. But little Mari, who loved her father very tenderly, kept thinking of the hard, cold work before him. What kind of a home would he find when he got into the forest? There would be no shelter of any kind. He and his men must go to work at once and saw some logs, with which they would build a rough hut. They would stuff the chinks with moss to keep out the great cold, or else they would freeze to death. What furniture would they have? A large, flat stone would serve as a fireplace, while the bed would be made of poles placed side by side and covered with moss. That was all. They must sleep as close to the fire as possible, and even then they would suffer greatly during the long, freezing nights. [94] "I am so sorry the crops failed," said Mari to her mother when she had thought of all these things. "I almost wish father had gone to work fishing this winter. I don't believe that would have been as hard work." "The sea has its own dangers, my daughter," answered her mother. "Think of the fearful storms that rage along our coast and the sad deaths that have come to some of our friends. No, Mari, lumbering is hard work, but it is safer, I think, than fishing in the winter season." Ole had come into the room while they were talking. "It's cold and uncomfortable for father this winter, I know," he said, "but the greatest danger is in the spring-time, when he has to float the logs down the narrow streams to the sawmills." "Why is that so dangerous?" asked Mari. "Because his work isn't over when he has[95] once launched the logs into the water. He must watch them in their course and see that they get to their journey's end. Suppose one log gets across the stream and blocks the way? Then father must wade out into the water and pull that log aside with his boat-hook. He has to spend a good deal of his time in the water, and is likely to freeze his feet, or get a terrible cold, at any rate. Perhaps he has to jump on the logs as he pulls them apart. Suppose he slips and, falling through, is jammed to death between the logs! "There, there, Mari, dear, don't cry. I shouldn't have said all this. Father will probably get along all right and come home safe in the spring." Henrik put his strong arms around his little sister, and she had soon forgotten her fears and was laughing heartily over the fairy-story he was telling her. The next week after their father left home,[96] Henrik and Ole started out on a visit to the camp, carrying with them a stock of provisions large enough to supply the men for several days longer. "Take your gun, Henrik," said his mother, "for you can't tell what wild creatures you may meet on the way. It would be a fine surprise for your father if you should present him with a hare or a deer. Some fresh meat would make a rare treat for the men." The boys skimmed over mile after mile of snowy ground, and nothing unusual happened. No houses were in sight all this time, and there were no tracks of living creatures. It was lonely, and dreary, and quiet. They were nearing their journey's end, and were climbing the side of a hill, when Henrik suddenly stopped. "See, Ole," he whispered, "there are the tracks of some four-footed beast ahead of us. They are too heavy and big for hares'. It may[97] be we are near some bear's den. Look out, for you know the old ones are sometimes very fierce. Let us follow the tracks for a while and see what we come to, anyway." "Shouldn't we be proud if we could find him and kill him?" answered Ole. "Roasted bear's meat makes a pretty good dinner." The boys travelled very carefully now, for they had come into the thick woods. The tracks suddenly came to an end at a pile of logs lying at one side. "Perhaps the bear has a snug home under those logs," said Henrik, in a low tone, as he seized his gun. At that very moment the boys heard a sound, and at once a huge brown bear appeared. He moved sleepily, as though he had just been wakened, but as soon as he got sight of the boys he roused, and his face became fierce. No time was to be lost, but Henrik was as cool as any old hunter. His hand did not[98] tremble as he took careful aim. Whizz! flew the bullet just as the bear prepared to come at them. It would have gone straight into his heart if he had not suddenly raised his paw, but it entered that instead. "Run for your life, Ole," shouted his brother, as the huge and angry brute dashed toward them. Even as he spoke, the bear knocked Ole down, and would have made short work of him if it had not been for Henrik's coolness. A second shot from his gun broke the animal's neck. He rose on his hind legs, and plunged blindly forward only to fall dead at Henrik's feet. "It's a good thing we are trained to be soldiers at school," the brave boy said afterward, when he told the story to his father. "I really believe I should have lost my head, if it hadn't been for that training. But I said to myself: 'You never fail at home in hitting[99] the mark, why should you now?' It gave me courage, father." His father smiled and answered, "You have done well, Henrik. I am proud of you." This was said as the boys sat around the fire in the log hut that night. As soon as they were sure the bear was really dead, they had hurried on to the camp, which was only a short distance away. Then, as soon as they had told of their luck, the men went back with them to skin the bear and cut up and bring in the meat. They brought it to the camp on a rough sledge. "He is a beauty," exclaimed one of the men, as he looked at the bear. "And as big a one as I ever set eyes on," said the other. "I don't see how you ever dared to tackle him, Henrik. I should have hesitated for a moment, myself." It was so late in the day when they all got back to the camp that father said: [100] "Boys, you had better stay all night, unless you think your mother will worry about you." "We told her we might not come home to-day," said Ole. "It is such a long tramp, she said we had better not try, for we would get too tired. So it is all right." How good the bear steak looked when it was set on the rough supper-table. It was smoked a good deal,—that was certain; but no one spoke or even thought of that. And the table was not elegant, for there was no cloth to cover the rough pine boards. But the fresh cheese, the kind mother had sent, the hard brown bread baked by the men, with plenty of bear steak and a bowl of steaming coffee, made a supper "fit for a king," as the boys declared when they could eat no more. <hr class="chap" />[101] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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