CHAPTER TWENTY.
I COME OUT IN A NEW LIGHT, AND HAVE A VERY NARROW ESCAPE.
During the absence of my friend everything went on at the fort in theusual quiet way, with this difference, that part of our educationalcourse had to be given up, and I had to read the Pilgrim's Progressinstead of my friend, for the men had become so deeply interested in theadventures of Christian that they begged of me to continue the readings.
This I agreed to do, but confined myself simply to reading. I observed,however, that my audience did not seem to appreciate the story as muchas before, and was getting somewhat disheartened about it, when oneevening, as I was about to begin, Donald Bane said to me--
"If ye please, sur, the other laads an' me's been talking over thismatter, an' they want me to say that they would pe fery much obleeged ifye would expound the story as you go along, the same as Muster Lumleydid."
This speech both surprised and embarrassed me, for I had never beforeattempted anything in the way of exposition. I felt, however, that itwould never do for a man in charge of an outpost in the Great Nor'-Westto exhibit weakness on any point, whatever he might feel; I thereforeresolved to comply.
"Well, Donald Bane," I said, "it had been my intention to leave theexposition of the allegory to Mr Lumley, but as you all wish me tocarry on that part of the reading I will do my best."
So saying, I plunged at once into the story, and got on much more easilythan I had expected; ideas and words flowing into my mind copiously,insomuch that I found it difficult to stop, and on more than oneoccasion was awakened by a snore from one of the audience, to the factthat I had sent some of them to sleep.
In the midst of this pleasant, and I hope not unprofitable, work, anevent occurred which had well-nigh stopped my commentaries on thePilgrim's Progress, and put an end to my career altogether.
I had gone out one morning with my gun to procure a few fresh ptarmigan,accompanied by Big Otter. Our trusty Indian was beginning by that timeto understand the English language, but he would not condescend to speakit. This, however, was of slight importance, as I had learned to jabberfluently in the native tongue.
We speedily half-filled the large game-bag which the Indian carried.
"I think we'll go into the thicker woods now," said I, "and try for sometree grouse by way of variety."
Big Otter gave a mild grunt of assent. He was not naturally given tomuch talking, and, being amiable, was always ready to conform to anyplan without discussion, unless expressly asked. Indeed, even whenexpressly asked, it was not always possible to get a satisfactory answerout of him.
"Do you think we should go up the Dark Valley, or over the Rocky Knoll,"said I, referring to two well-known spots a considerable distance fromthe fort.
"The pale-face chief knows best."
"Yes, but the pale-face asks what the red-face thinks," said I, somewhatamused by the answer.
"He thinks that there are grouse in the Dark Valley, and also in thelands towards the setting sun over the Rocky Knoll."
"If I were to ask you, Big Otter, which of the two directions you wouldlike to take, what would you reply?"
"I would reply, `The direction that best pleases the pale-face chief.'"
"Now, Big Otter," said I, firmly, for I was determined to get an answerout of him, "in which of the two paths are we most likely to find thegreatest number of birds?"
"Assuredly in the path which shall be chosen by the pale-face. Is henot a great hunter? Does he not know the land?"
I gave in with a short laugh, and, turning, led the way over the RockyKnoll into the dense forest at the back of the fort. Passing through abelt of this, we came upon more open ground, where the trees grew inclumps, with willow-covered spaces between. Beyond that we re-enteredthe thick woods, and at once set up a covey of the birds we were insearch of. There were six of them, and they all perched on aneighbouring tree.
Now it is sometimes the case that the birds of which I write are so tamethat they will sit still on a tree till they are all shot, one by one,if only the hunter is careful to fire at the lowest bird first, and soproceed upwards. If he should kill the top bird first, its flutteringfall disturbs the rest, causing them to take wing. Fully aware of thisfact, Big Otter and I fired alternate shots, and in a few secondsbrought down the whole covey. This quite filled one of our bags.
"You may take it home, Big Otter," said I, "and tell them not to bealarmed if I don't return till to-morrow. Perhaps I shall camp out."
With his usual quiet grunt of acquiescence my red-skinned companionshouldered the full bag, and left me. I then struck into the thickwoods, with the general bearings of which I was well acquainted, andsoon after came across the fresh tracks of a deer, which I followed uphotly.
I am naturally a keen sportsman, and apt to forget both time anddistance when pursuing game. As to distance, however, a backwoodshunter who intends to encamp on the spot where night finds him, does notneed to concern himself much about that. I therefore plodded on, hourafter hour, until the waning light told of the approach of darkness, andconvinced me that further pursuit would be useless.
Looking round me then, for a suitable spot on which to make myencampment, I experienced almost a shock of surprise, not unmingled withalarm, on making the discovery that I had forgotten to bring myfire-bag!
To some people the serious nature of this may not at first be apparent.But they may appreciate the situation in some degree when I tell themthat on that occasion I suddenly found myself about twenty miles fromhome, fatigued, hungry, with the night descending over the wilderness,the thermometer about thirty-five below zero, of Fahrenheit's scale,with the snow for my bed, and without that all important flint, steeland tinder, wherewith to procure fire for the cooking of my food and thewarming of my frame!
It is true I had my gun, which was a flint one, so that by rubbing someslightly moistened gunpowder on a piece of rag, which I tore from myshirt for the purpose, and snapping the lock over it there was apossibility of a spark catching, but unfortunately the flint was a muchworn one which I had chipped away to such an extent during the day, toimprove its fire-producing powers, that only the merest glimmer of aspark was evolved after many snappings, and it was so feeble as to bequite unable to catch hold of my extemporised tinder. After prolongedand fruitless efforts the intense cold began to chill me, and being wellaware of the great danger of getting benumbed, or of falling into thattorpid state of indifference to life, coupled with intense desire forrest which precedes death from cold, I made up my mind at once, tiredand hungry though I was, to turn round and walk straight back to thefort.
I knew myself to be quite capable of walking forty miles on snow-shoesin ordinary circumstances. My being tired and the darkness of night,were against me, but what of that? it would only require me to bracemyself to a severer task than usual!
I had not gone many miles, however, on the return journey, when a doubtoccurred as to whether I was taking the right direction. In theconfidence of my knowledge of the country I had carelessly left my oldtrack, which was indeed rather a devious one, and had struck what Ibelieved to be a straight line for the fort. It was by that time toolate to retrace my steps and too dark to distinguish the features of thelandscape. I stopped for a minute to think, and as I did so theprofound oppressive silence of the night, the weird pallid aspect of thescarce visible snow, and the dark pines around me, which were only ashade or two darker than the black sky above, together with theever-increasing cold, made such an impression on my mind that theprayer, "God help me!" burst almost involuntarily from my lips.
Feeling that delay surely meant death, I started off again withredoubled energy, and this impulse of determination, along with theexercise, increased my temperature somewhat, so that hope became strongagain, and with it muscular energy.
Suddenly I came upon a snow-shoe track. I went down on my knees toexamine it, but the light was insufficient to make it out clearly. Whatwould I not have given for a match at that moment! However
, as the sizeof the shoe-print seemed to my _feeling_ the same with that of the shoeI wore, I concluded that it must certainly be my own track out fromhome--all the more that it ran almost parallel with the line I wasfollowing.
Getting upon it then, I stepped out with much greater ease and with alighter heart.
After a time the track led me to a slightly open space where the lightwas better. I thought that objects seemed familiar to me as I lookedround. Advancing, I came on a spot where the snow was much troddendown. There was a bank of snow near. I went towards it while aterrible suspicion flashed into my mind. Yes, it was the very spot onwhich I had been sitting hours before, while I was making fruitlessefforts to obtain a light from the flint of my gun! I had been doingthat of which I had often read and heard, walking unwittingly in acircle, and had actually come back to the spot from which I set out.
What my feelings were on making this discovery it is scarcely possibleto describe. My first act was to look up and exclaim as before, "Godhelp me!" But there was nothing impulsive or involuntary in the prayerthis time. I fully realised the extent of my danger, and, believingthat the hour had come when nothing could save my life but the directinterposition of my Creator, I turned to Him with all the fervour of myheart.
At the same time I am bound to confess that my faith was very weak, andmy soul felt that solemn alarm which probably the bravest feel at theapproach of death, when that approach is sudden and very unexpected.
Nevertheless, I am thankful to say that my powers of judgment and ofaction did not forsake me. I knew that it would be folly to attempt tofollow my track back again through the intricacies of the forest in sodark a night, especially now that the track was partly mingled andconfused with that which I had made in joining it. I also knew that togive way to despair, and lie down without a fire or food, would be toseal my own doom. Only one course remained, and that was to keepconstantly moving until the return of day should enable me todistinguish surrounding objects more clearly.
I went to work therefore without delay, but before doing so once againsolemnly and earnestly committed my soul and body to the care of God.And, truly, the circumstances of my case intensified that prayer. Ifelt as if I had never really prayed in earnest in my life before thatnight.
Then, laying aside my gun, blanket and cooking utensils, so as tocommence my task as light as possible, I went to the most open space ofground I could find, and there described a large circle with mysnow-shoes on. This was the track on which I resolved to perform a featof endurance. To walk all night without intermission, without rest, soas to keep up my animal heat was the effort, on the success of whichdepended the issue of life or death.
I began with that vigour which is born of hopeful determination tosucceed or die. But, as time wore on, the increasing weakness andexhaustion began to render me less capable of enduring the intense cold.Having my wallet on my back I took out some biscuit and pemmican andate it as I walked. This revived me a good deal, nevertheless Irestrained myself, feeling convinced that nothing but steady, quietperseverance would carry me through. Soon thirst began to torment me,yet I did not dare to eat snow, as that would have merely injured theinside of my mouth, and frozen the skin of my lips. This feeling didnot however last long. It was followed by a powerful sense ofdrowsiness.
This I knew to be the fatal premonitory symptom, and strove against itwith all my power. The better to resist it I began to talk aloud tomyself.
"Come now, my boy, you mustn't give way to _that_. It is death, youknow. Hold up! Be a man! Act as Lumley would have acted in similarcircumstances. Dear Lumley! How he would run to help me if he onlyknew!"
Suddenly the words, "In Me is thy help," seemed to sound in my veryears. I stopped to listen, and was partly roused, but soon hurried onagain.
"Yes, yes," I exclaimed aloud, "I know the text well," but the words hadscarcely left my lips when I stumbled and fell. Owing to my sinkingpowers I had failed to keep the centre of the track; my right snow-shoehad caught on the edge of it and tumbled me into the soft snow.
How shall I describe the delicious feeling of profound rest that ensuedwhen I found myself prone and motionless? Equally impossible is it todescribe the agonising struggles that I made to induce my unwillingspirit to rouse my listless body. Those who have striven insemi-consciousness to throw off the awful lethargy of nightmare may havesome conception of my feelings. I knew, even then, that it was thecritical moment--the beginning of the end. In a burst of anxiety Ibegan to pray--to shout with all my strength--for deliverance. Theeffort and the strange sound of my own voice roused me.
I staggered to my feet and was able to continue my walk. Being somewhatbrighter than I had been before the tumble, I perceived that thecircular track was by that time beaten hard enough to bear me up withoutsnow-shoes, so I put them off and walked with much more ease.
From this point however my mind became so confused that I can give noreliable account of what followed. I was conscious at various periodsduring that dreadful night of becoming alive to several incidents andstates of mind. I recollect falling more than once, as I had fallenbefore, and of experiencing, more than once, that painful struggleagainst what I may style mental and physical inertia. I rememberbreaking out frequently into loud importunate prayer, and beingimpressed with a feeling of reviving energy at such times. Sometimes atext of Scripture seemed to flash before my eyes and disappear. Onthese occasions I made terrible efforts to grasp the text, and have anindistinct sensation of increased strength resulting from the mereefforts, but most of the texts faded as quickly as they came, with theexception of one--"God is our Hope." Somehow I seemed to lay firm holdof that, and to feel conscious of holding it, even when sense wasslipping away, but of the blanks between those conditions I knownothing. They may have been long or they may have been short--I cannottell. All remains on my memory now like the unsubstantial fragments ofa hideous dream.
The first thing after that which impressed itself on me with anythinglike the distinctness of reality was the sound of a crackling fire,accompanied with the sensation of warmth in my throat. Slowly openingmy eyes I became aware of the fact that I was lying in front of ablazing fire, surrounded by Big Otter, Blondin, and Dougall, who stoodgazing at me with anxious looks, while Henri Coppet knelt at my side,attempting to pour some warm tea down my throat.
"Dere now, monsieur," said Coppet, who was rather fond of airing hisEnglish, especially when excited, "Yoos kom too ver queek. Ony drink.Ha! dere be noting like tea."
"Wow! man, mind what yer aboot. Ye'll scald him," said Dougall,anxiously.
"You hole yoos tongue," replied the carpenter contemptuously, "me knowsw'at mees do. Don' wants no Scoshmans for tell me. _Voila_! Monsieurhave swaller _un peu_!"
This was true. I had not only swallowed, but nearly choked with atendency to laugh at the lugubrious expression of my friends' faces.
"Where am I?" said I, on recovering a little, "What has happened?"
"Oo ay, Muster Maxby," answered Dougall, with his wonted nasal drawl;"somethin' _hess_ happened, but it's no sae pad as what _might_ hevhappened, whatever."
As this did not tend to clear my mind much, and as I knew fromexperience that the worthy Celt refused to be hurried in hiscommunications, I turned an inquiring look on Blondin, who at once saidin French--
"Monsieur has been lost and nearly frozen, and Monsieur would surelyhave been quite frozen if James Dougall had not discovered that Monsieurhad left his fire-bag at home, by mistake no doubt; we at once set outto search for Monsieur, and we found him with his head in the snow andhis feet in the air. At first we thought that Monsieur was dead, buthappily he was not, so we kindled a fire and rubbed Monsieur, and gavehim hot tea, which has revived him. _Voila_! Perhaps Monsieur willtake a little more hot tea?"
While Blondin was speaking, the whole scene of the previous day and ofthe terrible night rushed in upon my brain like a flood, and I thankedGod fervently for my deliverance, while I complied with the
man'ssuggestion and sipped some more tea.
It revived me much, but on attempting to rise I found myself so weakthat I fell back helplessly with a deep sigh.
"Ye've no need to trouble yoursel', Muster Maxby," said Dougall, "we'vebrought the new dowg-sleigh for 'ee."
Looking in the direction in which he pointed, I observed not far-off thesplendid new dog-sleigh which we had spent much time in making andpainting that winter. Our fine team of four semi-wolf dogs, gay withembroidered harness as they lay curled up on the snow, were attached toit.
"I suspect I should have died but for your thoughtful care, Dougall," Isaid, gratefully, as the good fellow assisted to place me in the vehicleand wrap the buffalo robes around me.
"Hoots! Muster Maxby," was the remonstrative reply.
Big Otter placed himself in front of the _cortege_ to beat the track.The dogs followed him with the sleigh-bells ringing merrily. Blondintook hold of the tail-line, and the others brought up the rear.
Thus comfortably, with a bright sun shining in the blue sky, I returnedto Fort Wichikagan.