My Strange Rescue — The Wild Dogs of Athabasca

*THE WILD DOGS OF ATHABASCA.

* Old Donald M'Tavish was a wonderfully interesting character.

In the service of the Hudson Bay Company, which for nearly two hundred years held regal sway over the vast unknown north-west of Canada, he had spent half a century of arduous and exciting service, living far away from civilization, one of a mere handful of white men in the midst of a wilderness sparsely inhabited by the Indian and the half-breed, but abounding in deer, buffaloes, bears, wolves, and the smaller wild animals.

He had risen rapidly in the service, for he was a fearless, stanch, trustworthy man, and for the latter half of two terms had filled the important post of chief factor at different forts; for it was his somewhat undesirable if honourable lot to be sent to those stations that gave the most trouble and the least returns to the company.

Such was his reputation for shrewdness, courage, and fidelity, that it was felt by the authorities that no other man could so soon set matters straight as Donald M'Tavish.

Having filled out his fifty years with entire satisfaction to his employers and no small credit to himself, he had retired on his laurels to spend a hale and hearty old age, in the enjoyment of the comfortable pension awarded him by the company which he had served so well.

It was the delight of his declining days to recount for the benefit of younger ears the many thrilling incidents of his adventurous career, and one of his favourite stories was that which I shall now attempt to tell, as nearly as possible in his own words.

"It was early in the Fifties, when I had charge of old Fort Assiniboine, away out on the Athabasca River, not far from the Rockies.

Sir George Simpson, the governor of the colony at Red River, like the thoughtful man he was, had sent out to me by the spring brigade a splendid Scotch stag-hound, one of half-a-dozen he had just brought with him from the dear old land.

"O man, but he was a dog!

His back was on a level with my belt, and when he raised himself on his hind legs he could put his fore paws on my shoulders and rub noses with me; yet I stood a good six feet in my stockings in those days.

"His hair was as grizzled as old Ephraim's, and coarse, and curled like what they stuff beds with.

His body was long and lean, and so was his head, but he had a noble eye; and then the way he could run, and leap over everything that came in his path, it was a sight to see, I warrant you.

"We soon got very much attached to each other, and wherever I went Bruce went too.

He did not seem to take to any one else, and I was just as well pleased that he did not, for I never wanted him out of my sight.

"That same summer a new hand was sent to the fort.

He was an Englishman, who gave his name as Heathcote, and he brought with him a pure white female bull-dog that was one of the most dangerous-looking brutes I ever laid eyes on.

She minded nobody but her master, of whom, to do her credit, she seemed fond enough.

"I never much cared for that breed of dog, but I must say Vixen was about perfect in her way.

As to good-breeding, there certainly wasn't much to choose between her and Bruce.

"I was a little uneasy as to how the two dogs would get on, and at first it did look as if there might be trouble, for Bruce, who utterly despised the rabble of curs hanging about the fort, evidently felt disposed to resent the coming of this possible rival; but almost before I knew it, the two were the best of friends, and would eat their dinner side by side like two well-behaved children.

"After a while they took to going out a-hunting together, and grand times they had.

They would work along in company until a herd of deer was started, and then Bruce would make for the fattest doe, his tremendous speed soon bringing him to her throat; while Vixen, following at her best rate, would come up just in time to help him to finish her, and then they would have a fine feast.

"Once the dogs got into these ways neither Heathcote nor I had much more satisfaction out of them.

They were never on hand when wanted.

They kept growing wilder and wilder, and finally, toward autumn, they disappeared one day, and were never seen at the fort again.

"We hunted for them high and low, sending out the half-breeds as far as Lake La Crosse on the east, and to the foot-hills of the Rockies on the west, but not a sign or trace could we find of them.

When winter came and they did not return, we gave them up as lost, thinking that something must have happened to them on one of their hunting forays, or that perchance they had been killed by the Indians.

"Two years went by, and Bruce and Vixen were almost forgotten, when stories began to reach the fort of a strange and fierce kind of wild dog that was being seen now and then by hunters and trappers in the out-of-the-way valleys and ravines of the foot-hills.

"It was not an easy job to get at the bottom of these stories, for they passed from mouth to mouth before reaching us; but at last a trapper turned up who had seen a pack of the dogs himself, and after hearing his description I had no longer any doubt but that these wild dogs which were making such a stir were the offspring of our two former pets which had gone away in company.

"By all accounts they were evidently dangerous brutes to meet.

From Bruce they had got wonderful speed and endurance; from Vixen, ferocity and fearlessness.

Swift, savage, stubborn, and always going in large packs, there was not an animal on the plains or up among the mountains for which they were not more than a match.

"I felt eager to get a sight of the creatures, even though it should mean some risk; for while, like all wild dogs, willing enough to give men a wide berth, there was no telling what they might do if pressed by hunger.

It was therefore good news when, a year later, orders came from Red River for me to make a trip to Fort George on the other side of the Rockies, where there were some matters that needed straightening up, as either going or coming back I would run a good chance of seeing something of the famous dogs.

"I left Fort Assiniboine in the autumn, and although a sharp look-out was kept by all the party as we went over to Fort George, not a sight nor sign of the dogs did we stumble upon.

"But on my way back in the spring I had better luck, and I certainly shall never forget my first and last sight of those terrible brutes.

"We had crossed the Rockies, and were descending the eastern slopes, getting down among the foot-hills.

One day Heathcote and I pushed on together in advance of the rest, both of us having the dogs on our mind.

"Early in the afternoon we came to a bluff that overlooked a lovely little valley, which we at once decided would be our camping-place for that night.

A bright stream ran along the centre of the valley.

Having a thought that perhaps a herd of deer might put in an appearance if we kept out of sight, wo stretched ourselves out comfortably on the bluff and awaited developments.

They proved to be interesting beyond all our expectations.

"We had been there about an hour, perhaps, when Heathcote, who had been looking over at the opposite bluff, suddenly grasped my arm, saying under his breath.

-- "'Look there, M'Tavish!

What do you think of that?'

" [Illustration: "AGAIN AND AGAIN WOULD THE BEAR, RISING ON HIS HIND QUARTERS, HURL THE DOGS FROM HIM."

] "A break in the bluff had made a sort of easy descent into the valley, and down this were coming, in single file, one, two, three, four--no less than a dozen bears of the large and dreaded silver-tip kind;

splendid fellows most of them, bent on having a good time on the sunny slopes beside the stream.

"We hardly dared to stir or breathe.

To have attacked them would have been utter madness.

Thankful might we be if we could crawl away without their attacking us.

"While lying there motionless, and wishing to the bottom of our hearts that the rest of the party were on hand to make matters even, a fierce bark came from the bluff a little above where the bears first showed themselves.

It was followed by a whole chorus of deep-mouthed baying, and an instant later there rushed into view, fairly tumbling over one another in their impetuous haste, a great pack of dogs that we at once recognized as those we wished to see.

"They were certainly a fearsome lot of creatures.

Some were long, lean, and shaggy, like Bruce; others were thick-bodied and smooth of hair, like Vixen,--and all were powerful, ravenous-looking brutes, a dozen of whom might eat a good-sized buffalo for dinner without feeling uncomfortably overloaded after their meal.

"They sighted the bears the moment they reached the edge of the bluff, and at once rushed down to the attack, barking as though they would split their throats.

The bears made ready to receive them by massing together at the top of a little knoll near the water, and before we could fully realize what was taking place the fight had begun.

"So far as we could make out the dogs numbered fifty at least, so that, considering their size and strength, the odds were a good deal in their favour; but the bears fought like heroes.

"At first they crowded together in a sort of circle, with heads facing out; while the dogs ran round them, snarling and barking, and watching their chance to spring.

A few moments later the circle was broken up into a dozen roaring, writhing, yelping groups, composed of a bear with four or five of the dogs clinging tenaciously to different parts of its body.

"It was the Vixen strain that told now.

Again and again would the bear, rising on his hind quarters, hurl the dogs from him with mighty sweeps of his huge fore paws, only to be penned at once, and brought to the ground by a fresh attack.

"At frequent intervals an agonizing death-howl would pierce its way through the horrible clamour, as some unfortunate dog, caught in the grasp of its maddened enemy, would be crushed to death in his resistless embrace.

"The minutes slipped by, and the fight still raged, but there could be no doubt how it would result.

The dogs had the best of it as to numbers, and they were the equals of the bears in courage, ferocity, and endurance, if not in sheer strength.

"One by one the big brown bodies rolled over in the stillness of death.

At the end of about half-an-hour the fight was over.

Not a bear breathed, and around their torn carcasses lay between twenty and thirty of the dogs, as dead as themselves--the best possible proof of how fiercely and obstinately they had fought.

"Not a word had passed between Heathcote and myself while all this went on.

We were too much taken up with the extraordinary conflict going on before our eyes even to look at each other: but when it was all over, and the surviving dogs, having satisfied themselves that the bears were really all dead, lay down to lick their many wounds before they began upon the feast their brave victims had provided for them, I touched Heathcote on the shoulder, and whispered,-- "'We've seen the dogs; let's take good care they don't see us.'

"After such a proof of their powers as we had had, we were in no mind to claim a nearer acquaintance with them on the score of having once owned their ancestors.

Accordingly we crawled noiselessly away, and making a long circuit, rejoined our party in time to prevent their turning down into the valley, which we no longer considered a good place to camp in for the night.

"That was my first and last sight of the wild dogs of Athabasca.

The following autumn I went east, and never returned to Fort Assiniboine.

Whether the dogs have since been all killed off or are still running wild among the far recesses of the Rockies, I don't know; but that wonderful battle in the valley was one of the greatest sights of my life, the like of which no one perhaps will ever again see on this continent."