Grit A-Plenty: A Tale of the Labrador Wild

  XVIII

  SNOWBLIND

  Tighter and tighter grew the grip of winter. As January advanced thedays grew longer, and the weather became more bitterly and terriblycold. The great white, limitless wilderness was frozen now into asilence awful in its solemnity. Even the wild creatures of the forestfeared the blighting hand of the frost king, and lay quiet in theirlairs, and the traps yielded small returns for the tremendous effortput forth by the hunters. It seemed to David and Andy as they ploddedthe dreary trails during this period that they were the only livingthings in all the silent, solitary world.

  Sudden and terrible, too, were the storms--so terrible that no mancould have resisted exposure to them. And sometimes the trappers wereheld prisoners for days at a time in the tilts, for to have gone forthwould have been to go to certain destruction.

  This was a trying period. Idleness always breeds discontent, and thetrappers chafed, and became moody, when storms interfered with theregular routine of their work. Following the Christmas celebration,Indian Jake lapsed into his customary habit of long, silentbroodings, when he seemed to have no wish for companionship and wasscarcely aware of the boys' presence.

  "We've been goin' long enough to be at the tilt," saidDavid]

  With the end of February and coming of March the cold gradually,though reluctantly, lessened. The animals began again to stir moreactively and the traps to yield, as in earlier winter. There werestill the storms to contend against, however. They came now with evenless warning than formerly, and David and Andy found themselves inmany a tight pinch, and had adventures a-plenty, but adventure is thedaily portion of the trapper. They suffered with frost-bitten cheeksand noses now and again, but they never thought of this as a hardship.Every one who ventures forth in a Labrador winter expects sooner orlater to have frost-bitten cheeks and nose, and seldom is hedisappointed.

  "I'm wishin', now, I had my snow glasses here, but they're down in th'tilt," remarked David one bright morning in early April when the snow,reflecting the sun rays, glistened with dazzling brilliancy.

  "I'm wishin' I had mine, too, but I didn't bring un, either," saidAndy. "'Twas a bit hazy when we left th' tilt, and I didn't think I'dneed un."

  "'Tis time t' wear un now, and we mustn't come out again without un,whether 'tis hazy or no. There'll be a bad glare on th' snow out onth' mesh today," David predicted.

  "'Twon't be long now till we strikes up th' traps, will it?" askedAndy.

  "Th' fur'll be good till th' end of April, and we'll strike up th' endof April, whatever," said David.

  "I'm wonderin' and wonderin' how Pop's leg is, and how th' mist inJamie's eyes is. I'll be wonderful glad t' get home," and there waslonging in Andy's voice.

  "I hope Pop's 'most well, and th' mist isn't gettin' thicker. I beenwonderin' and wonderin', too."

  "We got a fine lot o' fur, Davy. Pop'll be wonderful glad."

  "That he will. We've got 'most as much as Pop got last year."

  "With Pop's share o' Indian Jake's, and with what Doctor Joe gets, I'mthinkin' there'll be plenty t' pay for Jamie's goin' t' have th' greatdoctor cut th' mist away and maybe t' pay for part of next year'soutfit too."

  "Aye, plenty, but I has a wonderful strange feelin' lately, Andy,about Indian Jake not tellin' what fur he has. Indian Jake's fine,though, and I take it 'tis just his way."

  "He don't talk much, Davy."

  "No, he don't talk much, and he never tells us what fur he's gettin'.I wonders why?"

  "I wonders why, now?"

  Thus discussing Indian Jake's strange behavior and stranger reticence,and conversing of home, a subject of which they never tired, theytraveled on and out upon the dazzling white of the marsh. As David hadpredicted, the glare was intense, and when they reached the clusterof spruce trees where they were accustomed to boil their kettle fordinner at midday, Andy complained that his eyes pained him badly andhe could not see aright.

  "We'll wait a bit, till th' noon glare is past," suggested David."There's plenty o' time t' get back t' th' tilt, with th' long daynow. My eyes hurt wonderful bad too."

  So they built up their fire and for an hour lounged upon a seat ofspruce boughs they had arranged, holding their eyes closed, while theytalked, to relieve them from the intense light reflected by the snow.The rest, however, was of no avail. The pain in their eyes grewsteadily worse, and it was becoming more difficult to raise the lids,and presently David announced that they had best return to the tilt asquickly as possible.

  "'Tis hard t' see anything," said Andy, as they set forth.

  "'Tis snowblindness. We'll go straight for th' tilt," suggested David,"and not stop t' fix th' traps."

  A wind was springing up and very soon the sky became overcast. In alittle while snow began to fall. David in advance, Andy directlybehind him, the two walked for a time in silence. At length Davidstopped.

  "Andy, b'y, can you see th' trail?" he asked. "My eyes is wonderfulbad."

  "No," said Andy, "'tis growing dark t' me."

  The snow thickened as they plodded along, and the rising wind whirledit about in clouds.

  "'Twill be a nasty night," remarked David at the end of another hour.

  "'Twill that," agreed Andy.

  "I'm glad we turned back when we did," said David.

  For a long time neither spoke. Both were stumbling. The pain in theireyes was intense, and it was only with the greatest effort that theycould open them for brief intervals.

  "We've been goin' long enough t' be at th' tilt," said David, breakingthe silence again.

  "I were thinkin' so," said Andy.

  Again they walked on in silence, each with the fear in his heart thatthey were lost, but neither voicing it until suddenly David stoppedwith the exclamation:

  "We're not on th' mesh at all, Andy! We're on th' river!"

  And sure enough, turning to the right they discovered the thick willowhedge which lined the river bank.

  "Th' snow is so deep on th' ice I didn't know th' difference,"explained David.

  "And I didn't know th' difference," said Andy.

  "We missed th' tilt, and--and I'm afraid we'll have a hard time,between th' blindness and th' storm, findin' it, Andy," David said,hesitatingly.

  "We'll--we'll have a hard time," agreed Andy.

  "But," said David, with hope in his voice, "if we keeps goin' down th'river we'll come t' th' Half-way tilt, _what_ever, and from th' timewe been walkin' we must have come a long way down th' river now. If wekeeps goin' we'll sure come t' th' Half-way tilt before dark."

  "We'll sure come to un if we keeps goin'," said Andy.

  "Keep plenty o' grit," cheered David.

  "Aye, plenty o' grit--and a stout heart," said Andy.

  The wind was steadily increasing, and even now driving the snow downthe river valley in suffocating clouds, but the two boys kept bravelyon. Once Andy fell, and David helped him up, and a little later hestumbled and fell again, and again David helped him to his feet.

  "I'm--wonderful--tired," said Andy.

  "'Tis wearisome work," soothed David.

  "'Tis growin' night," said Andy.

  "Aye, 'tis growin' night," David admitted reluctantly.

  Again and again Andy stumbled and fell, and presently David relievedhim of his rifle and carried both his own and Andy's.

  "I'm--so--sleepy," breathed Andy.

  "Keep your grit, Andy," David cheered, though his own voice betrayedthe overpowering weariness that was stealing over him.

  "We'll--keep--our--grit," murmured Andy in a strange and scarcelyintelligible voice.

  Whenever Andy fell now, as he did with growing frequency, David foundit necessary to exert his utmost strength to lift the boy to his feet.At length the horrible truth forced itself upon David. Half blind andexhausted, they were hopelessly lost in the wilderness, amidst theterrors of a northern blizzard.

  Staggering with weariness and exhaustion, he dragged the halfunconscious Andy through the first fortunate opening in the willowbrush upon which he s
tumbled as he blindly groped his way. In doing sohe had a vague, forlorn hope that in the shelter of the forest hemight succeed in kindling a fire. But here, as everywhere, utterdarkness surrounded him, made darker by his attack of snowblindness,and he dared not release for an instant his grip upon Andy's arm, infear that he might lose him.

  Now, when Andy fell, David, who held his arm, fell with him, and lyingthere a sense of vast relief stole over David, and he wished to sleep.He could hear the wind shrieking and moaning through the tree tops. Itseemed far away, and lying there in the snow beyond its reach he waswarm and comfortable, and his eyes were heavy. Suddenly therealization that they must keep moving at whatever cost of effortflashed upon his brain, and rising to his knees he shook Andy, andwith desperation called to him to get up, and finally dragged himselfand Andy to their feet.

  "Keep--your--grit--Andy! We--must--keep our--grit, b'y!" heencouraged.

  "Keep--our--grit," mumbled Andy, and the two staggered forward again.

  And then there came before David's half-closed, blinded eyes whatappeared like a dim cloud of fire, rising out of the blackness.Clinging to Andy's arm, he lurched forward, and stumbled and fell,with Andy by his side, and with the far-away moan of the wind in hisears, like distant unearthly voices. And now he lay still and did nottry to rise.