CHAPTER XXI
A NIGHT ON THE SANDS
There was a sprinkle of snow upon the ground, and the boys were workingin Mr. Oliver's slashing one afternoon a week after their visit to Mr.Webster's ranch when Harry, who had just hauled up a log, stopped hisoxen and addressed his father.
"It looks as if it would be a fine night," he remarked.
"Yes," said Mr. Oliver. "I've no fault to find with the weather. We'llget most of the logs piled for burning if it lasts."
Harry smiled at Frank. "Dad's slow to take a hint. I wasn't thinking ofthe logs."
"I can believe it," Mr. Oliver retorted. "Anyway, they have to be hauledout, and it's easier to do it now than when the soil's soft and boggy."
Frank, who had been heaving the sawed trunks on top of one another withJake, agreed with the rancher. The big masses of timber slid easily overthe snow and they were clean to handle, which was something to bethankful for after the difficulty they had had in moving them when theywere foul with clotted mire. The frost, as he had discovered, seldomlasted long in that country, but it was very cold and the firs toweredflecked with snow against a clear blue sky.
"I was wondering if there was any reason why we shouldn't try to get aduck to-night," said Harry. "We won't go near the island where the cacheis. There's a flat behind the other one to the southward."
"I can think of one reason," his father answered. "You won't feel likeworking to-morrow, and there's a good deal of log-hauling to be done."
"We'll be ready to start as usual," persisted Harry.
"Then you can go on that condition, but you'll have to stick to it. Idon't mind your getting a few hours' shooting now and then, but I expectyou to be ranchers first of all when there's work on hand."
Harry repeated his assurance and Mr. Oliver made no more objections.When they had heaved up the next log Jake turned to the boys.
"There'll be a moon and I guess you're not going to do much on theflats," he said. "You want to cut two very short paddles and put somespruce brush that you can lie on in the canoe. Then if you keep quiteflat you might creep up on a flock of ducks in one of the channels. Youcan't do it if you use the ordinary paddle kneeling."
He split them two flat slabs off the butt of a cedar, but Mr. Oliver,who was chopping nearby, looked around when Harry began to hack theminto shape.
"What are those for?" he asked.
"Paddles," Harry answered with some hesitation.
"You're logging just now," said his father dryly. "I want another tierput up before it's dark."
Harry laid down the half-finished paddles and grinned at Frank.
"I guess dad's quite right, but his way of staying with it gets rilingnow and then."
Frank laughed. One day when Harry had hurt his knee and there was nowork of any consequence on hand, Mr. Oliver had taken him out into thebush, and the boy had a painful recollection of the journey they hadmade together. No thicket was too dense or thorny for the rancher toscramble through, and he prowled about the steepest slopes and amongstthe thickest tangles of fallen logs with the same unflagging persistencyuntil at the first shot he killed a deer. Mr. Oliver was, as his sonand Jake sometimes said, a stayer, one who invariably put through whathe took in hand. He was the kind of person Frank aspired to become,though he was discovering that he was not likely to accomplish it bytaking things easily. Success, it seemed, could only be attained byceaseless effort and constant carefulness.
He went on with the logging, though the work was remarkably heavy, andit was an occupation he had no liking for, but he helped Harry to finishthe paddles after supper. Then they carried a bundle of spruce twigsdown to the canoe, and, though there was not much wind, tied a reef inthe sloop's mainsail, which Mr. Oliver had insisted on before theyloosed the moorings.
An hour later and shortly before low water they let go the anchor in alane of water which wound into a stretch of sloppy sand. It was justdeep enough for the sloop to creep into with her centerboard up, and theflats ran back from it into a thin mist on either side. It was very coldand the deck glittered in the pale moonlight white with frost. Frankstood up looking about him while Harry arranged the twigs in the canoe,but there was very little to see. The sky was hazy, the moon wasencircled by a halo, and wet sand and winding water glimmered faintly.At one point he could dimly make out the dark loom of an island, butthere was no sign of the beach in front of him. Though he could feel alight wind on his face, it was very still, except for the ripple ofwater and the occasional splash of undermined sand falling into thechannel, which seemed startlingly distinct. Once he heard a distantcalling of wildfowl, but it died away again.
Dropping into the canoe when his companion was ready he took up one ofthe longer paddles. The water was quite smooth and they made goodprogress, but Harry did not seem satisfied.
"If I'd had any sense I'd have brought a pole to shove her with," hecomplained. "It's handier in shallow water and the ducks seem to be along way up. A creek that runs out on the beach makes this channel."
Frank paddled on, watching the sloppy banks slide by and the palelygleaming strip of water run back into the haze in front of him until atlast it forked off into two branches.
"We'll try this one," said Harry. "I believe it works right aroundbehind the island. The flood should come up that end first, and it oughtto drive the feeding birds back over the sands to us."
The water got deeper as they proceeded, for Frank could feel no bottomwhen he sank his blade, but there was no sign of any duck until at lastthey heard a faint quacking in the mist. Soon afterward there was ashrill scream as a flock of some of the smaller waders wheeled abovetheir heads.
"Now," said Harry, "we'll try Jake's idea. If the ducks aren't on thewater they'll be along the edge of it where the bank's soft. You don'toften find them feeding where the sand's dry and hard."
They placed the guns handy, and lying down upon the spruce brush dippedthe short blades. Frank found the position a very uncomfortable one topaddle in, and he could not keep his hands from getting wet, though thewater was icy cold. They were fast becoming swollen and tingledpainfully in the stinging frost. Still, the boys made some progress, andat last looking up at a whisper from Harry, Frank saw a dark patch uponthe water some distance in front of him. Harry edged the canoe closer inwith the bank, which had a slope of two or three feet on that side.
After that they crept on slowly, because they dared not use much forcefor fear of splashing, and Frank's wet fingers were rapidly growinguseless. The ducks became a little more distinct and he could see otherbirds moving about in the faint gleam on the opposite bank. Some ofthem, standing out against the wet surface, looked extraordinarilylarge, though he could not tell what they were.
At last a sudden eerie screaming broke out close ahead and Frank startedand almost dropped his paddle as a second flock of waders rose from thegloom of the bank. They flashed white in the moonlight as they turnedand wheeled on simultaneously slanted wings. Then they vanished for amoment as their dusky upper plumage was turned toward the boys, gleamedagain more dimly, and the haze swallowed them. They had, however, giventhe alarm, and the air was filled with the harsh clamor of startledwildfowl.
"Now!" cried Harry. "Before the ducks get up!"
Frank flung in his paddle and pitched his gun to his shoulder, with thebarrel resting on the side of the canoe. It sparkled in the moonlight,distracting his sight, and stung his wet hand, but he could see darkbodies rising from the water ahead. As he pressed the trigger Harry'sgun blazed across the bows, and following the double crash there was anoutbreak of confused sound, the sharp splash of webbed feet that trailedthrough water, a discordant screaming, and the beat of many wings.Indistinct objects whirled across the moonlight and as Frank withstiffened fingers snapped open the breach Harry's gun once more flungout a train of yellow sparks. Then the smoke hung about them smellingcuriously acrid in the frosty air and they seized the paddles to drivethe canoe clear of it. When they had left it behind them the lane ofwater was empty exc
ept for one small dark patch upon it, and the clamorof the wildfowl was dying away. They had paddled a few yards when Frankmade out that something was stumbling away from them along the shadowybank, but they were almost abreast of it before he could get anothershell into the chamber. The bird lay still when he fired, and Harrypicked up the duck on the water, after which he ran the canoe ashore.
"So far as I could see, the rest of them headed across the flat towardthe other channel," he said. "It looks soft here, but, as you'll have toget out to pick up the duck yonder, it might be a good idea if youfollowed them over the sand. I'll work along the creek and it's likelythat any birds I put up will fly over you."
This seemed possible to Frank, who realized that the walk would warmhim, and he stepped out of the canoe into several inches of slushy sand.Floundering through it, he picked up the duck and threw it to Harry, whoshoved the canoe out.
"I won't go far and you had better head back toward the forks in half anhour or so," he said. "I'll probably be waiting."
The canoe slid away, and Frank felt sorry that he had left her when hereached the harder top of the bank. The level flat which stretched awaybefore him into the mist looked very desolate, and the deep stillnesshad a depressing effect on him. He also remembered that in another houror less the flood tide would come creeping back across the dreary waste.He could, however, think of no reasonable excuse for rejoining hiscompanion, and turning his back on the channel he set out across thesand. Nothing moved upon it as he plodded on, the silence seemed to begrowing deeper, and he had an idea that the haze was denser than it hadbeen. Still, he determined to make the round Harry had suggested andquickened his pace.
It was some time later when he heard a double report that sounded a longway off and he stopped to listen, when the clamor of the wildfowl brokeout again. It died away, but he fancied that a faint, rhythmic soundstole out of the silence that followed it. A minute later he was surethat a flight of ducks was crossing the flat and, what was more, thatthe birds were heading toward him. As yet he could see nothing of them,for there was now no doubt that the mist was thicker. He crouched downas the sound increased, as it occurred to him that he would be tooplainly visible standing up in the moonlight on the level flat.
The sound drew nearer, growing in a steady crescendo until he wonderedthat a duck's wing could make so much noise, and at last a number ofshadowy objects broke out of the mist, flying low and swiftly in regularformation. The gun flashed, and the ducks swept on and vanished, all butone which came slowly fluttering down out of the mist.
Frank spent nearly a minute fumbling with stiffened fingers while hecrammed in another shell, and then saw that the duck was running acrossthe sand some way off. Closing the breach he set off after it, and hadgot a little nearer when it rose, fluttered awkwardly, and fell again,though it was able to make good progress on its feet. Twice he gotwithin sixty yards of it, but on one occasion it flew a little way, andon the second it swam across a long pool which he had to run around.Indeed, it led him a considerable distance before he brought it down.
Picking it up he stopped and looked about him. It was pleasant to feel alittle warmer, but there was nothing to guide him toward the other forkof the channel except the drift of the mist and the chill of the windupon one side of his face, and he could not be sure that the woundedbird had led him straight. The flat was level and bare except for littlepools of water on which were glistening filaments of ice. It was,however, too cold to stand still with wet feet and consider, anddeciding that the sooner he got down to the forks the sooner he would beback on board the sloop, he set off briskly. He had had enough ofwandering about that desolate waste.
At last, to his relief, he saw a faint silvery glimmer ahead in themist, and turning off he struck the channel a little lower down. Therewas no sign of a duck or anything else, but he was by no means sorryfor this, for his one idea was to get back to the forks as soon aspossible, and the surest way of doing it was to follow the creek. Itappeared to be a considerable distance, though he walked as fast as hecould, splashing straight through shallow pools and slipping inhalf-frozen mud, and when at last he reached the spot where the channelsbranched off he could see nothing of Harry or the canoe. What troubledhim almost as much was the fact that the stream was now flowing inland,and after a quick glance at it he shouted with all his might. His voicerang along the water and level sand, but though he called again noanswer came out of the drifting mist. Then he slipped his hand into hispocket to get a cartridge and drew it out again with an exclamation ofdisgust, recollecting that he had only picked up three or four looseshells in the canoe.
For a moment he stood still considering, and it occurred to him that thesituation was not a pleasant one. The flood tide was making and he didnot know how far off the beach was, while he had no desire to spend thenight in the woods. He could not see the island, and in order to reachit he would have to cross the main channel, which, as he remembered, wasmoderately deep. On the whole it seemed wiser to wade through thesmaller fork and, if Harry did not overtake him in the meanwhile, try toget on board the sloop. She would float in very shallow water with hercenterboard up, and he had touched bottom with the canoe paddle a fewyards away from her.
When he had arrived at this decision he plunged into the water, whichimmediately rose above the top of his long boots. It was horribly cold,but this caused him less concern than the fact that it rippled stronglyagainst his legs, which made it clear that he must get down to the sloopas fast as possible. He was over his knees before he got across, andthen he ran his hardest along the edge of the channel, which seemed tobe growing wider at every moment. The palely gleaming water wasperfectly smooth, but it was moving with an ominous speed.
He grew breathless, but he did not slacken the pace. He went straight,splashing through trickling water and into pools, while he strained hiseyes for the first glimpse of the sloop, but he could only see the mistwhich hid the sand thirty or forty yards in front of him. At last hemade out a strip of something solid low down ahead and then what seemedto be a mast, and a few moments later he stopped at the water's edge.There was nothing but water in front of him and it was no longer quitesmooth. Little ripples ran along the sand, and one broke about his feetwhile he gazed at them. It did not recede but splashed on, and when helooked around there was at least a yard of water behind him. Then hestruggled with a paralyzing sense of dismay, and strove to keep hishead. It was necessary to think and think very hard.
He could not wait where he was with the water deepening about him;while, if he went back and did not find Harry before he reached it, thecreek, which he would no longer be able to cross, would head him off. Ifhe followed it up on the near side it would take him away from thecanoe, and he did not know how far off the beach was. There wasevidently only one thing to be done and that was to get on board thesloop even if he had to swim.
She seemed a horribly long way out, but he splashed in hurriedly, afraidto wait a moment lest his resolution should melt away, and he was soonwaist-deep with a strong stream swirling around him. It was almostimpossible to keep his feet, the gun hampered him, and the coldness ofthe water seemed to check his breathing and take the power out of hislimbs. He could not go back, however, and face a journey through themist across the waste of sand, and setting his lips he struggled on.Twice he was almost swept away, but at last making a savage effort heclutched the stern of the craft and scrambled up on to her deck.
The first thing he did was to light the stove, and when a pleasantwarmth began to fill the cabin he was conscious of a strong desire tosit still and dry his clothes. That, unfortunately, was out of thequestion, and he reluctantly crawled out and stood up on deck. There wasnothing but water around him now. It stretched back on every side intothe mist, and the only sounds were the soft lap of the tide and theripple it made flowing over thinly covered sand. Then having alreadydecided that Harry would have some difficulty in paddling against thestream, he set about getting sail upon the craft to go in search of thecanoe.
&
nbsp; The mainsail looked remarkably big and heavy, and he was thankful thatthere was a reef in it, which made the task a little easier before hegot it up. Then he spent several minutes in very hard work heaving theboat up to her anchor, and bruised his swollen hands in the determinedeffort it cost him to break it out. After that he set the jib and thesloop slid gently away with the wind abeam of her. He did not knowexactly where she was going, but he shouted as loudly as he could everynow and then, and at last there was a faint answering cry.
He called again and the cry rose more clearly, after which he hauled thesheet and changed his course, and by and by the canoe appeared out ofthe haze close ahead. A few moments later Harry paddled alongside, andhanding up the ducks and his gun made the canoe fast before he turned toFrank.
"Do you know where you're heading for?" he asked.
"No," Frank confessed. "I've only a notion that it's in toward theland."
"Then we'll drop the jib and pitch the anchor over. We'll have to waituntil the stream slackens before we get out again."
They followed his suggestion and Frank was glad indeed to creep backinto the cozy cabin.
"This is uncommonly nice," drawled Harry, sitting down with a smile ofcontent. "It was horribly cramping in the canoe and my hands were 'mosttoo cold to paddle."
"What kept you?" inquired Frank.
"I must have gone farther than I intended and when I turned back thetide was running up so strong I could hardly make head against it. I wasgetting scared about you when I reached the forks and saw how the waterwas spreading on the sand. After that I didn't spare myself, but I wasmighty glad to hear your shout."
"Did you get any more ducks?"
"No," said Harry, "I had only one shot--a long one."
Frank, who told him to make some coffee, stripped off part of hisclothes and dressed himself in an old blanket, after which they satbeside the stove for an hour or so, until Harry crawled out and saidthat there was a little more wind and the mist was thinning.
Shortly after this they heaved the anchor and started again, but oncemore the wind fell light and a couple of hours had passed and they werealmost frozen when they reached the cove below the ranch. The house wasdark when they crept into it and went straight to bed, while it costFrank a determined effort to get up before daylight next morning. Hisclothes were still damp and he felt sore and aching, but he took hisplace with the others when they sat down to breakfast.
Logging seemed a particularly unpleasant task that day, but he had to goon with it, and he fancied that Mr. Oliver, with whom it was necessaryto keep pace, worked harder than he usually did. Frank was completelyexhausted when as darkness fell they went back to the ranch.
"Are you going out again after ducks to-night?" Mr. Oliver asked him.
"No," said Frank ruefully, "I feel as if it would take me a week to getover the last trip."
"I'm not very much astonished," Mr. Oliver answered with a soft laugh."Still, I don't mind admitting that you stood up to your work to-day."