The Big Otter | Page 2

almost reached mother
earth four feet below the surface.
This kind of plunge is always awkward owing to the difficulty of rising,
and usually disagreeable, owing to the manner in which snow stuffs
itself into neck, ears, nose, eyes, mouth--if open--and any convenient
crevice of person or garments. The snow-shoes, too, which are so
serviceable when you are above them, become exasperatingly
obstructive when you are below them. After a struggle of two minutes I
got my head clear, winked the snow out of my eyes, blew it from my
mouth and nostrils, and looked up. Lumley was standing there with a
bland smile on his amiable face; he seldom laughed, though he
sometimes chuckled!
"What do you mean by grinning there like a Cheshire cat?" I exclaimed,
"why don't you lend a hand?"
"What do you mean by tumbling there like a Christmas goose?" he
retorted, "why don't you look out for stumps and twigs as I do?"
He made some amends for this reply by extending his hand and helping
me to rise.
In a few minutes we were clear of the pine-wood, and came out upon a
piece of swampland, where the stunted willow bushes just showed their
tops above the surface of the snow. This led us to a bend of the broad
river, near to which, further down, stood our outpost--Fort Dunregan.
For four months there had been neither sight nor sound of water in that
river. It was frozen to the bottom, except in the middle where its dark
unseen waters flowed silently under six feet or more of solid ice
through many a river-channel and lake to the distant sea. In fact, save
for the suggestive form of its banks, the river might have been mistaken
for an elongated plain or piece of open land. The surface of the snow
here was, from exposure to wind and sun, as hard as pavement. We

therefore took off our snow-shoes, and, the necessity for maintaining
the Indian-file position being removed, we walked abreast.
"The air is keen here," remarked Lumley, pulling the thick shawl that
was round his neck as far up over his mouth as his well-developed nose
would permit.
"It is," said I, following his example with greater success, my own nose
being a snub.
There was no wind; not even a breeze--there seldom is at such
temperature--but there was a very slight movement of the air, caused by
our own advance, which was just sufficient to make one appreciate the
intensity of the cold. It became necessary now to pay frequent attention
to our noses and cheek-bones and toes, to prevent frostbite. But the sun
was brilliant and the air invigorating. So was the aspect of nature, for
although there was no grandeur in the character of the scenery, there
was extreme beauty in the snow lacework of the trees and leafless
shrubs; in the sky, whose bright blue was intensified by the white
drapery of earth; and in the myriads of snow-crystals which reflected
the dazzling sun with prismatic splendour.
Indeed, the scene was too dazzling, and as there was a tendency in it to
produce snow-blindness, we soon returned to the friendly shelter of the
woods.
"Tracks!" exclaimed Lumley, in a low voice, pointing to the ground,
where footmarks were clearly visible, "and fresh," he added, turning up
the snow under the track with the butt of his gun.
"Ptarmigan!" said I in a whisper, pointing towards a little knoll, not
quite a gunshot ahead of us, where some dozens of the beautiful
snow-white creatures stood gazing at us in motionless surprise. Their
plumage was so white that we had not observed them at first, almost
the only black specks about them being their sparkling eyes, and the
tips of their wings and tails.
Our guns were pointed instantly. I am ashamed to say that we were

guilty of shooting them as they stood! In that land we shot for food as
much as for amusement, and, some of us being poor shots, we were
glad to take our game sitting! Nay, more, we tried to get as many of the
birds in line as possible, so as to make the most of our ammunition. We
were not sportsmen in the civilised sense of that term.
The extreme stillness of the woods was broken by the report of our
guns in quick succession. A very cloud of pure white birds arose, as if
Nature had taken to snowing upwards in rather large flakes, and seven
victims remained behind.
"A good supper," remarked Lumley, as we bagged the game and
re-loaded.
It is not my intention here to describe a day's shooting. Let it suffice to
say that a little before nightfall we arrived at a place where was a
snowy mound capped