The caribou changed
their course when they saw their enemies, and plunged into the ravine,
those behind crowding those in front, which sank into the drifts until
they were quite helpless. From every side the Indians rushed upon the
deer and the slaughter began. Bob was carried away with the excitement
of the hunt, and many of the deer fell beneath his spear thrusts. The
killing went on blindly, indiscriminately, without regard to the age
or sex or number killed, until finally the main herd extricated itself
and ran in wild panic over the river ice and out of reach of the
pursuers.
In the brief interval between the discovery of the deer and the escape
of the herd over four hundred animals had fallen under the ruthless
spears. When Bob realized the extent of the wicked slaughter he was
disgusted with himself for having taken part in it.
"'Twas wicked t' kill so many of un when we're not needin' un, an' I
hopes th' Lard'll forgive me for helpin'," he said contritely.
[Illustration: "Saw her standing in the bright moonlight"]
Aside from the inhumanity of the thing, it was a terrible waste of
food, for it would only be possible to utilize a comparatively small
proportion of the meat of the slaughtered animals. Perhaps
seventy-five of the carcasses were skinned, after which the flesh was
stripped from the bones and hung in thin slabs from the poles inside
the wigwams to dry.
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