Grit A-Plenty: A Tale of the Labrador Wild

  XXII

  THE BURNING TILT

  David and Andy were made as comfortable as ever they could be in awigwam. Sa-peesh and his family, but particularly A-mish-ku andNi-pit-se, were well pleased to have them there. They had seen nonesave the members of their own family since the previous autumn, andA-mish-ku, after the manner of boys the world over, craved thecompanionship of other boys, and he and Ni-pit-se were glad to see newfaces and hear new voices.

  Ni-pit-se was shy at first, but her timidity passed away quicklyenough. And she took it upon herself to minister to David's and Andy'sneeds, and she found a vast deal of pleasure in nursing them. Theircoming, and these new duties, made a welcome break in the monotony ofthe days, for even an Indian maiden wearies sometimes of thechangeless solitary routine of her wilderness life.

  And so, despite the pain and discomfort of their temporary affliction,David and Andy were well content, and recovered so rapidly from theirattack of snowblindness that they might have returned to their trailat the end of a week but for the fact that Andy's feet werefrostbitten, and still too sore to walk so far. And so, of necessity,they tarried another week in the wigwam of Sa-peesh, much to thesatisfaction of the A-mish-ku and Ni-pit-se.

  During this fortnight the days were rapidly lengthening and the sunwas growing stronger, though as yet there was no softening of the snoweven at midday and the nights and mornings were crisp and frostyenough. With every day, as the sun grew brighter, the glare on thesnow increased until the world was a dazzling expanse ofscintillating, blinding light. No longer was it safe to go abroad,even for an hour, with naked eyes, save in dull and cloudy weather.

  David and Andy had learned their lesson. They had no intention ofbecoming snowblind again if it could be avoided. And so, while theywaited for Andy's feet to heal, they fashioned, each for himself, apair of goggles, after the manner of those worn by Sa-peesh and hisfamily.

  These goggles were made from round pieces of wood, hollowed out likeshells and large enough to cover the eyes comfortably, with thehollows whittled deep enough to permit the eyelids to open and closewithin them. Two of these were fastened together the proper distanceapart to fit the eyes, with a piece of buckskin. In the bottom of eachhollow a narrow slit was cut lengthwise of the goggle. Through thisslit the wearer was to look. The interior of the hollow was blackedwith charcoal from the fire. A buckskin thong fastened to the outeredge of each of the goggles, and tied behind the head, kept them inplace.

  At length Andy declared that his feet were well enough healed topermit him to return to the trails. Both he and David were anxious toresume their work, for the trapping season was nearing its close. Theywished, also, to satisfy Indian Jake's anxiety as to their safety, forthey had no doubt he was anxious, and possibly much troubled andmystified at their long absence.

  There was much regret in the wigwam of Sa-peesh, and loudly didSa-peesh and Mrs. Sa-peesh, and especially A-mish-ku and Ni-pit-selament that the visit should have been so short. It is the custom ofIndian women to bestow gifts upon friends setting out upon a journey.This is a pleasant and profitable custom for the friends, and thewomen believe that the spirits will bless the giver with much goodfortune, and thus they are themselves amply recompensed.

  Accordingly, when David and Andy made ready for departure on a brightApril morning, Mrs. Sa-peesh presented each with a bladder filled withmarrow fat, and a quantity of jerked venison, while each received fromNi-pit-se a beautiful pair of bead-embroidered moccasins which she hadmade with her own hands.

  And when they thanked Sa-peesh and everybody for all the kindness thathad been shown them, and said farewell, the whole family came outbefore the wigwam to shout good wishes after them and to wave theirhands to them, until the boys were quite out of their sight.

  "We'll soon be findin' out, now, what Indian Jake thought when wedidn't get t' th' Narrows, and 'twill be three weeks when we getsthere Saturday," remarked David.

  "I wonders, now, what he thinks about un!" suggested Andy.

  "He thinks we perished," said David, "and he's likely been up t'Namaycush lookin' for us. 'Twill be a fine surprise to he when hecomes back Saturday."

  "'Tis fine t' be alive!" exclaimed Andy, breathing the good pure air.

  "'Tis that!" said David, "and t' have such a fine hunt t' take home.Pop'll be wonderful pleased!"

  "Won't he now!" Andy agreed. "It won't be much over a month, whatever,will it, Davy, before th' break up, and we can start for home?"

  "No, th' last of May, _what_ever," said David, "and won't it be fine,Andy, t' go home with all th' furs? They's plenty, I _knows_, now, t'pay for Jamie goin' t' have th' great doctor cure his eyes. IndianJake said so, and he's a wonderful good judge. There's our share ofhis fur, too. And won't it be fine t' have Jamie see again as well asever he did!"

  "Won't it, now!" exclaimed Andy. "'Tis hard t' wait till th' timecomes t' go!"

  They were a long distance from the tilt. Walking as fast as ever theycould, favoring Andy's sore feet, and with a stop only to boil thekettle at noon, it was near sundown when they saw the little logbuilding scarcely visible above the drifts.

  "There's no tracks about," said Andy, as they approached the door.

  "If Indian Jake came up 'twas a week ago, whatever," suggested David."Th' snow since then covered his tracks. He was sure t' be lookin' forus when we didn't go t' th' Narrows."

  This surmise was confirmed upon entering the tilt. The frying pan usedby Indian Jake in cooking his dinner sat unwashed upon the stove, andthere were other evidences of his visit. And the boys immediatelymissed the two marten skins which they had left there, and which thehalf-breed had taken.

  "He were thinkin', now, we had perished, and so he took th' fur,"David explained. "He were thinkin' t' take all our fur home t' Popwhen he takes his, and he's feelin' dreadful bad about our bein'dead."

  "And won't he be glad when we gets t' th' Narrows!" exclaimed Andy.

  "That he will!" said David. "'Twill be a fine surprise for he!"

  The following morning, with light, expectant hearts, they set out forthe Narrows, attending to their snow-clogged traps in the usualmanner, and on Friday evening, highly excited at the expected surpriseand pleasure of Indian Jake when they appeared, crossed the river iceopposite the tilt.

  "He hasn't come yet," said David as they neared the tilt. "Th' snowfell since he left Monday, and there's no tracks where he's comeback."

  "We'll have a fire, and supper cookin' when he comes, an' won't he besurprised and glad t' see us!" exclaimed Andy.

  And so, their hearts filled with the pleasure they anticipated givingIndian Jake, they pushed open the door and entered the tilt. Then theystood aghast, and almost terror stricken.

  The place gave unmistakable evidence of having been looted andabandoned. The furs were gone. The tent was not there, nor was theextra tent stove.

  "He's gone!" exclaimed Andy, presently, a frightened look on his face.

  "Gone!" echoed David. "And he's took all our furs!"

  "What--will--Jamie do now?" and Andy was making a manly effort torestrain the tears.

  "He'll go--blind!" and David, too, was on the point of tears."And--we--worked so hard t'--get th' furs t'--save his eyes!"

  Neither of them felt like eating, but, by force of habit they lighteda fire in the stove, filled the kettle from the water hole at thelake, and prepared to cook their supper.

  "They's no tea! And no flour! And no pork!" announced David after asearch. "Indian Jake took all th' grub!"

  "Took all th' grub!" exclaimed Andy.

  "Aye, all th' grub!" David repeated.

  "Whatever will we do now?" asked Andy in consternation.

  "They's a bit of tea in our pack on th' toboggan. Unlash un and bringth' things right in, Andy," said David. "We have th' bladders of fat,and most of th' dried deer's meat th' Injuns gave us, and some hardbread left in th' bag too. We'll make out."

  There were also three ptarmigans that Andy had shot during the day,and a rabbit they had ta
ken from one of the traps. An inventoryassured him that, so far as provisions were concerned, they would dovery well indeed for the present.

  "Indian Jake didn't take any grub out o' th' Halfway tilt or th'Namaycush Lake tilt, either," said David, as the two stoodcontemplating their small stock of provisions. "What we has in th'other tilts ain't much, but 'twill have t' do us till th' break up."

  "'Twon't last till then!" objected Andy. "And even if it does we won'thave any grub left t' eat on th' way home after th' break up."

  "We'll have t' make out somehow," insisted David. "We'll fix un thisway, Andy. Whilst I tends th' traps you'll hunt for pa'tridges andsnare rabbits. With what you kills we'll make out, and save what's inth' tilts t' use goin' home."

  "Th' huntin's about over, why can't we strike up and go now?" askedAndy.

  "We can't do that," David objected. "We _has_ t' wait for th' break upt' take th' boat out. We can't take un out till th' lake and th' rivergets free of ice. We'll _have_ t' take un, _what_ever, because Pop'llneed un t' bring in his outfit when he comes back in th' fall t'hunt."

  "We'll have t' take th' tilt stove, too, to use in th' tent goin'out," suggested Andy. "Indian Jake took th' tent stove."

  "We won't need un," said David. "We won't have any tent. Indian Jaketook un. We'll make out though. 'Twill be warm enough then, but 'tis arainy time of year, and we'll have t' sleep wet of nights, without atent or stove."

  Supper of boiled ptarmigan, hardtack, marrow fat for butter, and teawas as good a meal as any could wish, and quite as good as any towhich David and Andy were accustomed on the trail. But there was thefuture to be provided for.

  "'Tis good Indian Jake didn't take th' grub from th' other tilts,"Andy observed, as they made the tilt tidy, for Indian Jake had left itin a state of confusion.

  "He took 'most everything else except th' tilts," said David a littlebitterly. "With havin' t' keep most of th' flour and pork that's inth' other tilts to use goin' home, it'll take all our spare timehuntin' a livin', and we'll have t' make out that way till we goes."

  "We might catch some whitefish and namaycush," suggested Andy. "Wecaught a rare fine lot when we went fishin' with Indian Jake."

  "We can now!" agreed David enthusiastically. "Oh, we'll make out finewith th' birds and rabbits we gets, if we can get whitefish andnamaycush too. We won't have bread, but th' Injuns mostly does withoutbread. They make out with what they get huntin' and fishin'."

  "We'll try for th' fish tomorrow _what_ever!" said Andy.

  "Th' first thing in th' mornin'," seconded David.

  A search, however, for Indian Jake's fishing tackle disclosed the factthat he had taken it with him, as he had taken nearly everything elseof value. No cod line and not a fish hook could be found, though everynook and cranny of the tilt was inspected.

  "We'll have t' give fishin' up," said David, when they had satisfiedthemselves that no tackle was to be found. "We can't fish withouthooks and line."

  "No," admitted Andy dejectedly, "we can't fish."

  "But we'll make out, _what_ever," said David confidently. "We'll getbirds and rabbits enough, though they're wonderful tiresome eatin',without bread or pork. And goin' out we'll be like t' kill a porcupineor two."

  "We'll make out," agreed Andy.

  "It's--it's th' fur makes me feel bad," said David after a moment'ssilence.

  "Aye; th' fur," repeated Andy.

  "And Jamie," added David, sadly. "I can't get he off my mind. I'drather be dead myself than have he go blind. 'Tis bein' dead t' goblind, but worse. 'Tisn't natural t' be blind, and folks has t' diesome time."

  "Th' thought of un makes me feel almost--sick," said Andy.

  They fell silent, and for nearly half an hour neither spoke. ThenDavid remarked, a more cheerful note in his voice:

  "I been thinkin', now, that we may be misjudgin' Indian Jake. I beenthinkin' that maybe when Indian Jake makes up his mind we perished, hehas no heart t' keep on trappin' here alone, and he takes th' furs andstarts right out with un t' give un t' Pop, and t' tell Pop what hethinks happened to us."

  "Do you think that, now?" asked Andy hopefully.

  "That's what I thinks," said David, reluctant to abandon faith inIndian Jake even now.

  "'Twill be--a terrible worry for Pop--and all of un," suggested Andy.

  "Aye," agreed David, "but think how glad they'll be when we comes homesafe; and it won't be long, now. Week after next we'll strike up, andth' break-up'll come by th' last of May, _what_ever, and we'll startfor home."

  "Suppose, now--suppose Indian Jake does as Uncle Ben said he would,"Andy suggested apprehensively. "Suppose he don't take th' furs t' Pop,but goes off with un, th' way he did before?"

  "I'm--I'm thinkin' he won't do _that_," solaced David, though hisvoice was not as convincing as Andy would have wished.

  "Maybe--there's nothin' t' worry over," agreed Andy.

  "That makes me think o' Doctor Joe's song," said David. "Let's singun, Andy. She's a wonderful cheerin' song."

  "Let's do," said Andy, and together they sang, loud and lustily:

  "Old Worry's my foe, and he always brings woe, And he follows about wherever I go. He's always on hand, and he makes the world blue, And all about troubles that never come true."

  After all, what do any of us gain from worry, though all of us havereason enough for it sometimes. David and Andy resolved to believethat Indian Jake had really gone to The Jug. They were the better andmore efficient for believing it. And they resolved to smile and becheerful, too, and not fret and worry and stew about troubles thatmight not be troubles at all. But it required grit a-plenty, foroften enough a suspicion of Indian Jake forced itself upon them.

  On Saturday morning the boys devoted themselves to setting snares forrabbits. A dozen short pieces of stout twine found about the cabinwere utilized for this purpose.

  Building a snare is a simple process. A sapling is cut and laid acrossa rabbit run, and about a foot above it. One end of a piece of twineis tied to the sapling directly over the run, while the other end isformed into a noose, and with the bottom of the noose resting on therun, the top reaching to the sapling, it is held in position byupright sticks on each side. Brush is piled so high upon the saplingas to discourage passing rabbits from jumping over. Other brush filledin around both sides of the runway, prevents its going around, and itis thus forced to make a wide detour, which rabbits are not likely todo, or to pass through the noose. In the latter case it can scarcelyescape being caught and choked by the noose.

  It was interesting work for the boys. It occupied their attention andkept their thoughts free from surmises as to Indian Jake.

  "They'll get us some grub, _what_ever," remarked David when the lastsnare was set. "I wish we could have fished, though. 'Twould have beensurer, and rabbits gets t' be such tiresome eatin'."

  "But they're better than no eatin'," Andy sagely observed.

  "If we gets rabbits enough I'll not be complainin'," said David.

  On Sunday morning two rabbits were found in the snares, and one moreon Monday morning before the boys set out upon their journey to LakeNamaycush. David attended to the traps, while Andy devoted hisattention to hunting, and on Tuesday evening when they reached theLake Namaycush tilt he had added five spruce partridges, twoptarmigans and a porcupine to their store of provisions in excess oftheir daily requirements.

  "You're doin' wonderful well, Andy," David complimented, as heprepared supper. "You're knockin' over more birds than we can eat."

  "I'm thinkin' we are, now," agreed Andy with some pride. "We'll not begoin' hungry, _what_ever."

  "I got one marten to-day," continued David. "He's a poor one. Th' furis all like t' be poor now, I'm thinkin', so we may as well strike up.'Tis a pity t' kill th' fur when it's too poor t' sell. If we leavesun now we'll get un next year when they're prime. What we gets nowwon't help out any for Jamie, either."

  "Will we strike up before we goes back?" asked Andy.

  "We'll have t' come in nex
t week, _what_ever," David explained. "Wedidn't strike up on th' way in. I'll strike up on th' big meshtomorrow, and we'll take everything down t' th' Narrows tilt thatwe'll want t' take down from here and th' Halfway tilt. Next weekfinish strikin' up, and take care o' th' traps, and our flat sled'llbe heavy enough."

  Accordingly the following day David struck up, and cached inconvenient places the traps on the big marsh trail, and on the returnto the Narrows the small remaining stock of flour and pork and tea wastaken from the other two tilts to the Narrows tilt, to await the dayof their departure for The Jug, and to be kept as a reserve in case ofneed.

  Andy's gun and the snares continued to keep them well supplied so faras their immediate needs were concerned, though they sorely missed thebread and pork to which they were accustomed, and which even in thisbrief time they learned to look upon as luxuries. However, adhering totheir resolution to deny themselves, they set out upon their finaljourney to Lake Namaycush with no other provisions than rabbits andpartridges, and a small amount of tea.

  "I'm glad t' be gettin' ready t' go home," remarked Andy as they satat supper on the evening they reached the Namaycush Lake tilt. "But itgives me a wonderful sorry feelin' that th' trappin' is all over, andwhen we leaves here tomorrow we won't come back again t' NamaycushLake this year."

  "That's th' way I feels, too," admitted David. "I've been feelin' thatway all th' time I've been strikin' up. I've been thinkin' how much wewere expectin' from th' traps when we comes in th' fall, and how weworked for a good hunt; and how--it's all over with now."

  "And--not knowin' for sure what Indian Jake does with th' fur,"suggested Andy.

  "If we only could be sure he took un t' Pop," said David, "and Jamiecould go t' th' great doctor t' have his eyes cured--then I'd feelwonderful happy."

  "He must have gone t' Th' Jug," Andy said hopefully. "'Tis hard t'think he didn't. And, Davy, we said we'd just keep thinkin' he did."

  "Aye, we'll just keep thinkin' he did, and we won't trouble about un,"asserted David. "And we'll pray th' Lard 'tis th' way we hopes."

  Their thoughts were full of the hopes and aspirations of the firstevening when they came to the Namaycush Lake tilt. How dear to us areold aspirations and old hopes, dead, perhaps, with the dead weeks oryears that have gone, but still living in our memory like the featuresof departed friends. Our aspirations may never be attained, ourfondest hopes never be fulfilled, but once they encouraged and buoyedus, and made life appear a glorious field of attainment, as indeed itis. If life were never flavored by day dreams, how dull and dreary itwould sometimes be.

  Great deeds are born in imagination. Imagination prompts us toattainment. It lifts us to higher levels. In the proportion in whichwe possess it, imagination urges us to apply our ambitions and ourefforts to gain the things we dream of. Because of it we climb higherand travel farther, and become so much bigger and nobler men than everwe could have been had we never dreamed.

  But, O, the bitter disappointment of shattered hopes! 'Tis a brave manthat rises above failure, and tries again. This is the test of a man'smettle. This is God's way, I sometimes think, of sifting the grainfrom the chaff. The men who are worth while never give up. They stickand stick, and try again and again, until they win out in the end. Theothers surrender hope at the first reverse, and like chaff are blownaway by the wind of oblivion.

  David and Andy were silent for a long while. They were living overthose early days of the winter when they came upon the trail dreamingof success and determined to attain it. Now the winter was past andthe hunting was at an end. Was all their effort lost? Was Jamie, afterall, to go blind because one day they neglected the simple precautionof wearing their snow glasses?

  "We were expectin' to do so much when we came in th' fall," remarkedAndy, sorrowfully, when they had finally filled the stove with wood,and settled in their sleeping bags. "We made a grand hunt, even ifIndian Jake stole th' fur. But if he stole un 'twon't do Jamie anygood and it's too late now t' catch any more."

  "I were thinkin', Andy," said David, clinging to a forlorn hope, "thatmaybe Doctor Joe were makin' a mistake about Jamie's eyes. MaybeJamie won't go blind so soon, and next year'll be in time for he t' got' th' great doctor--if Indian Jake stole th' fur."

  "Do you think so, now, Davy?" Andy asked expectantly.

  "I'm just sayin' _maybe_," said David, cautiously. "If 'tis so, whenPop'll come next year t' hunt th' Seal Lake trail maybe he'll let mehunt this trail, and we'll be sure _then_ t' get fur enough t' pay forth' cure."

  "I'd have t' stay home with Margaret, and I'd like t' be here and helphunt th' trail--and--get th' fur t' cure Jamie," said Andyregretfully.

  "You'll be helpin', Andy, by stayin' home th' way Pop had t' do thisyear," comforted David.

  And so, in the face of supposed defeat, they planned for the future,and, planning, fell asleep.

  It was an hour later when David awoke half suffocated with smoke. Hisears at the same time caught the crackling of burning wood. He sprangfrom his bed, and seizing Andy, shouted:

  "Andy! The tilt's afire! Andy, get up!"

  In an instant Andy, too, was out of bed.

  "Grab your clothes and sleepin' bag," cried David excitedly.

  "I'm chokin'!" coughed Andy.

  "Hurry!" shouted David. "Hurry, or we'll be caught here!"

  There was scarce a moment to spare. The tilt had taken fire from theoverheated stove, and one side was already in flames. Fortunately thedoorway was clear, and the lads, gaining it, had barely time to pitchtheir clothing and sleeping bags out into the snow, and themselvesescape into the cold night.