Grit A-Plenty: A Tale of the Labrador Wild

  XIII

  A NIGHT IN THE OPEN

  There was no time to be lost. The long northern twilight was alreadywaning. Hastened by the storm, darkness would come early.

  "The Injuns get caught out this way often enough, when they'rehuntin'," said Andy, by way of self-comfort. "They finds a way to makeout. They just gets a place in th' lee, where th' wind can't strikeun, and puts on a good fire. That's all they ever does. But," hecontinued doubtfully, "they're used to un, and I never stopped outwithout a tent, _what_ever."

  Bivouacking in a blizzard, with a thirty-degrees-below temperature andno blankets or other protection, was an emergency Andy had neverbefore been called upon to meet. Now he turned to it uncertainly.

  Reconnoitering he discovered, near at hand, a large fallen tree,partly covered by the snow. Close to the butt of the fallen tree stooda big, thickly foliaged spruce tree, the outer ends of its branchesbending so low that the tips were enveloped by the deep snow.

  "'Twill make a shelter, _what_ever!" exclaimed Andy, encouraged. "Alittle fixin', and maybe 'twon't be so bad, in under the branches.They'll make a cover from the snow."

  With his ax he at once cut off the limbs of the spruce tree on theside next the fallen trunk. This made an opening that would serve as adoor. Under the arching branches was a circular space, thatched aboveby foliage. Removing one of his snowshoes, and utilizing it as ashovel, he cleared the space of snow. Then donning his snowshoes againhe cut several branches, which he thatched upon the overhanging limbsof the tree, thus increasing the protection of his cover from freshdrift. This done, he banked snow high against the branches around theentire circle, save at the opening facing the fallen tree.

  Now breaking a quantity of boughs and arranging them as a floor forhis improvised shelter, he made a comfortable bed.

  The next consideration was wood, and fortunately there was no lack ofthis. Everywhere about, as is usual in primordial forests, were deadtrees, that would burn readily. Andy selected three that were perhapssix inches thick at the butt, and not too large for him to handleeasily. These he felled with his ax, trimmed off the branches, andcutting the logs into convenient lengths for burning, piled them atone side of the entrance to his shelter. He now chopped into smallfirewood a quantity of the branches, adding them to his reserve supplyof fuel.

  Again using a snowshoe as a shovel, he cleared the snow from the buttof the fallen tree, which he had decided should be the back log of hisfire. This done, he split a quantity of small kindling wood. He nowsecured a handful of the long, hairy moss that hangs close to thelimbs and trunks of spruce trees in the northern forest, and using itas tinder quickly lighted his fire against the back log. Leaning overit to protect it from falling snow until the carefully placed kindlingwood was well ablaze, he added pieces of smaller branches, and finallysticks of the larger wood. Then, with a sigh of relief, Andy drew backunder the cover of his shelter to test the efficiency of his efforts.

  Almost immediately a genial warmth began to pervade the interior ofthe cave beneath the tree. The fire crackled and blazed cheerfully.The thick thatching of boughs proved an excellent protection from thesnow and such wind as penetrated the depths of the forest. The successof the experiment was assured.

  It was quite dark now, but Andy, for the present at least, was safeand comfortable enough. Quick planning, energetic action, andinstinctive resourcefulness, had saved him from the terrible blizzardthat was sweeping over the marsh and lashing through the tops of theforest trees with growing fury.

  Andy sat lax and limp for a little while. He had worked with almostfrenzied exertion. Now he felt like one who had but just, and barely,escaped a great peril. Presently he drew off his outer adiky, shookthe snow from it, and drawing it on again proceeded to arrange himselfcomfortably.

  "'Tis almost as snug as the tilt," he said presently. "Pop were rightwhen he says there's no fix too big to get out of, if you goes aboutun right. If I'd kept scared, and hadn't tried, I'd perished, and nowI'm safe whilst I 'bides here. If I only had something t' eat!"

  Comfort is comparative. What might be a severe hardship under somecircumstances might become the height of luxury and comfort underothers. Andy's retreat appealed to him now, after his battle with thestorm, as most luxurious and comfortable. The wind howling andshrieking through the treetops brought to the lad's ears a constantreminder of what might have been his fate, and served to add to thesnugness of the shelter and cozy cheerfulness of the fire.

  Now that he was safe from the storm for the time being, his thoughtsturned to David. He did not know how far David was in advance of him.He had no doubt he had hurried on to the spruce grove, and not findinghim there had set out for the tilt, but he could never have reached itbefore the storm broke.

  This thought rendered Andy miserable. His imagination pictured Davidstark and frozen out on the storm beaten marsh. His misery grew almostto anguish until, in his better judgment, he reasoned that, likehimself, David must have taken refuge in the forest, and that Davidknew better than he how to protect himself. Then he remembered DoctorJoe's song, and accompanied by the roar of wind overhead, sang in asubdued voice:

  "The worst of my foes are worries and woes, And all about troubles that never come true. And all about troubles that never come true."

  This comforted him, and when he had finished he said, decisively:

  "There's no use worrying about something that I don't know hashappened, and the most of th' things we worries about never doeshappen. I'll just think that Davy's safe and sound in the tilt, orsnug and safe somewhere in the green woods. And like as not, too, he'sworryin' about me."

  With this determination Andy replenished the fire, and, with his feettoward it, stretched out upon the boughs to sleep. "The Lard took careo' Davy and me last evenin' when th' wolves chased us," he mused."They were close t' gettin' us but th' Lard made Davy's rifle shootth' right time. _I'm_ thinkin' now He didn't just save us t' leaveDavy t' perish in th' snow. He'll take care o' Davy _what_ever."

  This was the logic of his simple faith. It soothed him and quieted hisfears. Weary enough he was, for the day's work had been hard andtrying and presently he slept. Several times during the night he wasawakened by the cold, when the fire burned low, and each time hehuddled close to the blaze until his half congealed blood was warmedand the camp regained its comfort. Then he would lie down again tofall asleep with the shriek and roar of wind in his ears.

  Finally he awoke to find that the wind had lost much of its force, andlooking upward through the treetops he saw the glimmer of a star. Thecold had grown more intense. His feet and hands were numb. He piledsome of the small branch wood upon the coals and as it burst intoflame added some of the larger sticks.

  "It must be comin' mornin', and th' storm's about blown over," he saidthankfully, listening for the wind, when he sat down again. "I'mthinkin', now, 'twill soon be clear of shiftin' snow on th' mesh, andsoon as I'm warmed I'll see how 'tis, _what_ever."

  Despite his resolution not to worry, Andy was far from satisfied ofDavid's safety. Now as he sat by the fire he began again to pictureDavid lying out on the marsh somewhere, stark and dead. The longerAndy permitted his mind to dwell upon the possibility of such atragedy having taken place, the more probable it seemed. The snow-cladforest had never been so grim and silent. A foreboding of somehorrible tragedy was in his heart. He could restrain himself nolonger.

  The numbness was hardly yet out of his hands and feet when hehurriedly arose, put on his snowshoes, shouldered his rifle, andpicking up his ax, rushed out into the dim-lit forest to grope hisway through trees to the marsh.

  Fitful gusts of wind were still blowing over the marsh, driving thesnow in little swirling clouds. Light clouds lay in patches againstthe sky, and between them the stars shone with cold, metallicbrilliance.

  Andy could see clearly enough here. The wind was in his back, andtaking a short cut, that would reduce the distance by nearly half, heswung out at a trot toward the tilt. He would look there first, and
ifDavid were not in the tilt he would follow the trail back to thespruce grove.