CHAPTER XVI
THE TRAIL OF THE CARIBOU
When Blake was awakened by Harding, the cold was almost unendurable,and it cost him a determined effort to rise from the hollow he hadscraped out of the snow and lined with spruce twigs close beside thefire. He had not been warm there, and it was significant that the snowwas dry; but sleep had brought him relief from discomfort, and he hadfound getting up the greatest hardship of the trying journey. Inanswer to his drowsy questions, Harding said he had once or twice hearda wolf howl in the distance, but that was all; and then he lay down,leaving Blake on guard.
Blake sat with his back to a snowbank, which afforded a slight shelter.He imagined from his sensations that the temperature must be aboutfifty degrees below zero. The frost bit through him, stiffening hismuscles until he felt that if vigorous movement were demanded of him hewould be incapable of it. His brain was dulled; he could not reasonclearly, though he had things to consider; and he looked about withheavy eyes, trying to forget his physical discomfort, while his mindwandered through a maze of confused thought.
There was a half-moon in the sky, which was pitilessly clear, forcloudiness might have made it warmer; when the firelight sank, theslender spruce trunks cut sharply against the silvery radiance and thehard glitter of the snow. Everything was tinted with blue and white,and the deathly cold coloring was depressing.
Blake began to consider their position, which was serious. They wereworn out and half-fed; their furs were ragged; and shortage of moneyand the difficulty of transport had forced them to cut down their campequipment. Indeed, looking back on the long march, Blake was surprisedthat they had escaped crippling frostbite; although both Benson andHarding were somewhat lame from the strain which the use of snowshoesputs on the muscles of the leg. There was, moreover, a risk of thisbecoming dangerous; and it was probably two hundred miles to the HudsonBay post. The chances of their reaching it seemed very slight.
Just then a howl rang, harsh and ominous, through the frosty air. Witha nervous start, Blake grabbed his rifle. The wolves had scented them.Turning his back to the light, he spent some minutes gazing fixedly atthe glistening white patches among the straggling trees, but he couldmake out none of the stealthy, flitting shapes he had half expected tosee. It was encouraging that the wolves had not overcome theirtimidity of the fire. Keen hunger would have driven them to an attack;and Blake had no illusions about the result of that. However, thefierce brutes were not starving; they must have found something to eat;and what a wolf could eat would feed men who were by no meansfastidious.
Seeing nothing that alarmed him, Blake resumed his musing. Theirsearch for the gum had proved useless. He pitied Harding, who hadstaked his future upon its success. The man had not complained much;but Blake knew what he must feel; and he thought with compassion of thelonely woman who had bravely sent her husband out and was now waitingfor him in the mean discomfort of a cheap tenement. It was notdifficult to imagine her anxiety and suspense.
Next he began to ponder his own affairs, which were not encouraging,though he did not think he really regretted the self-sacrificing coursehe had taken. His father had died involved in debt, and Blakesuspected that it had cost Colonel Challoner something to redeem theshare of his mother's property which brought him in a small income.That it had been carefully tied up was not, he thought, enough to guardit from the Blake extravagance and ingenuity in raising money.Afterward the Colonel had brought him up and sent him into the army,doing so with a generous affection which was very different from coldcharity, and which demanded some return. Then, Bertram had never beenjealous of the favor shown his cousin, but had given him warmfriendship; and Blake, who was much the stronger, had now and thenstood between the lad and harm. He had done so again in Bertram'sgreatest need, and now he must not grumble at the consequences.
Of late they had seemed heavier than formerly, for in tempting himClarke had made a telling suggestion--suppose he married? Thisappeared improbable: for one thing, no girl that he was likely to carefor would look with favor on a man with his reputation; but he hadthought a good deal about Millicent Graham during the long, wearymarch. He imagined that she had inherited enough of her father'sreckless character to make her willing to take a risk. She would nothave a man betray his friend for an advantage that he might gain; shehad a courage that would help her, for love's sake, to tread adifficult path. Still, there was no reason to believe that she had anylove for him; or, indeed, that she thought of him except as a strangerto whom she had, perhaps, some reason to be grateful.
Resolutely breaking off this train of thought, he threw fresh wood onthe fire, and sat shivering and making plans for the march to thefactory, until Benson relieved him. When the gray dawn broke above thetrees, he got up stiff with cold; and, after eating his share of a veryfrugal breakfast, he carefully examined his rifle. Though he kept itclean of superfluous grease, there was some risk of the striker andmagazine-slide freezing; and a missfire might prove disastrous.Glancing up between the branches, he noticed the low, dingy sky;although he thought it was not quite so cold.
"I'm going to look for a caribou," he said. "I'll be back by dark."
"We'll have snow," Harding warned him. "If there's much, you'll findit hard to get home."
"I'd find it harder to do without breakfast and supper, which is whatmay happen very soon."
"Anyway, you had better take one of us along."
"With the ax?" Blake said, laughing. "It's bad enough to reach acaribou with a rifle. Benson's as poor a hand at stalking as I know,while a day's rest may save you from getting a snowshoe leg. As wehaven't a sled, it would be awkward to carry you to the factory."
They let him go; but when he reached the open his face hardened. Thesky had a threatening look, the snow was soft, and there were wolvesabout; but he was comparatively safe while daylight lasted, and foodmust be found. During the morning he saw wolf tracks, but no sign of adeer, and at noon he sat down for a few minutes in a sheltered hollowand managed to light the half-frozen pipe he kept in an inner pocket.He had brought nothing to eat, for they had decided that it would beprudent to dispense with a midday meal. Getting stiffly on his feet,after he had smoked a while, he plodded from bluff to bluff throughoutthe afternoon. For the most part, they were thin and the trees verysmall, while the country between them seemed to be covered with slabsof rocks and stones. It was utterly empty, with no sign of life in it,but Blake continued his search until the light began to fail, when hestopped to look about.
No snow had fallen, but the sky was very thick and a stinging wind hadrisen. He would have trouble in reaching camp if his trail got driftedup. He knew that he should have turned back earlier; but there waswhat seemed to be an extensive woods in front, and he could not facethe thought of returning empty-handed to his half-starved companions.The gray trees were not far away; he might reach them and make a mileor two on the back trail before dark, though he was weary and hungerhad given him a distressing pain in his left side.
Quickening his pace, he neared the bluff. It looked very black andshadowy against the snow, which now was fading to a curious, lifelessgray. The trees were stunted and scattered; that made it possible forhim to get through, though there were half-covered, fallen brancheswhich entangled his big snowshoes. He could see no tracks of anyanimal, and hardly expected to do so; but, in a savage mood, he heldon, without much caution, until he entered a belt of broken groundstrewn with rocky hillocks. Here he could not see where he was going,and it was almost dark in the hollows; but he had learned that chancesometimes favors the hunter as much as careful stalking. Stopping forbreath a moment, halfway up a steep ascent, he started, for a shadowyobject unexpectedly appeared on the summit. It was barelydistinguishable against the background of trees, but Blake saw thebroad-tined horns in an opening and knew it for a caribou.
There was no time to lose; the swift creature would take flight in aninstant; and, almost as he caught sight of it, the rifle went up to hisshoulder.
For a moment the foresight wavered across the indistinctform, and then his numbed hands grew steady, and, trusting that nothingwould check the frost-clogged action, he pressed the trigger. He feltthe jar of the butt, a little smoke blew in his eyes, and he could makeout nothing on the crest of the ridge. It seemed impossible, however,that he had missed, and the next moment he heard a heavy floundering inthe snow among the rocks above. He went up the slope at a savage run,and plunged down a precipitous hollow, on the farther side of which ahalf-seen object was moving through the gloom of the trees. Stopping amoment, he threw up the rifle, and after the thin red flash the deerstaggered and collapsed.
Running on in desperate haste, he fell upon it with his hunting knife;and then stopped, feeling strangely limp and breathless, with the longblade dripping in his hand. Now that the caribou lay dead before him,the strain of the last few minutes made itself felt. Surprised by asudden and unexpected opportunity when he was exhausted and weak fromwant of food, he had forced upon himself sufficient steadiness toshoot. It had cost him an effort; the short, fierce chase had triedhim hard; and now the reaction had set in. For all that, he wasconscious of a savage, exultant excitement. Here was food, and foodmeant life!
His first impulse was to light a fire and feast, but as he grew calmerhe began to think. He was a long way from camp, and he feared that ifhe rested he could not force himself to resume the march. Besides,there were the wolves to reckon with; and he could not escape if theyfollowed him in the dark. Prudence suggested that he should cut off asmuch meat as possible, and after placing it out of reach in a tree, setoff for camp at his best speed without taking any of the raw flesh toscent the air; but this was more than he could bring himself to do.His comrades were very hungry, and some animal might climb to thefrozen meat. It was unthinkable that he should run any risk of losingthe precious food. He decided to take as much as he could carry, andstore the rest in a tree; and he set to work with the hunting knife inanxious haste.
It was now quite dark; he could not see what he was cutting, and if hegashed his hand, which was numbed and almost useless, the wound wouldnot heal. Then the haft of the knife grew slippery, and tough skin andbone turned the wandering blade. It was an unpleasant business, butthe man could not be fastidious, and he tore the flesh off with hisfingers, knowing that he was in danger while he worked. There werewolves in the neighborhood, and their scent for blood was wonderfullykeen; it was a question whether they would reach the spot before he hadleft it. When he stopped to clean the knife in the snow he cast aswift glance about.
He could see nothing farther off than a fallen trunk about a dozenyards away; beyond that the trees had faded into a somber mass. Abiting wind wailed among them, causing the needles to rustle harshly;but except for this there was a daunting silence. Blake began to feela horror of the lonely wood and a longing to escape into the open,though he would be no safer there. But to give way to this weaknesswould be dangerous; and, pulling himself together, he went to work morecalmly.
It was difficult to reach the branches of the spruce he chose, and whenhe had placed the first load of meat in safety he was tempted toflight. Indeed, for some moments he stood irresolute, struggling tohold his fears in subjection; and then he went back for another supply.He climbed the tree three times before he was satisfied that he hadstored enough, and afterward he gathered up as much of the flesh as hecould conveniently carry. It would soon freeze, but not before it hadleft a scent that any wolf which might happen to be near could follow.
He left the woods with a steady stride, refraining from attempting afaster pace than he could keep up, but when he had gone a mile he feltdistressed. His load, which included the rifle, was heavy, and he hadbeen exerting himself since early morning. The wind was in his face,lashing it until the cold became intolerable; the dry snow was loose,and had drifted over his outward trail. Still, he was thankful that nomore had fallen, and he thought that he knew the quarter he must makefor. Now that he was in the open, he could see some distance, for thesnow threw up a dim light. It stretched away before him, a sweep ofglimmering gray, and the squeaking crunch it made beneath his shoesemphasized the overwhelming silence.
Skirting a bluff he did not remember, he stopped in alarm, until ataller clump of trees which he thought he knew caught his searchingeyes. If he were right, he must incline farther to the east to strikethe shortest line to camp; and he set off, breathing heavily andlonging to fling away his load. Cold flakes stung his face, and acreeping haze obscured his view in the direction where he expected tofind the next woods. He was within a hundred yards of the nearesttrees when he saw them, and as he left the woods it was snowing hard.His heart sank as he launched out into the open, for he had now noguide, and having neither ax nor blanket he could not make a fire andcamp in a bluff, even if he could find one. It looked as if he mustperish should he fail to reach the camp.
He had only a hazy recollection of floundering on, passing a bluff hecould not locate, and here and there a white rock, while the snow fellthicker and its surface got worse. Then, when he felt he could go nofarther, he heard a howl behind him, and then another.
With the wolves on his trail, Blake quickened his speed to his utmostlimit. As a last resort he could throw away the meat, and they wouldstop for that; but they were still some distance back of him and heheld on grimly to his precious load. It meant life to him and to hisstarving companions. His feet sank into the soft snow; the wind blewhim back cruelly; a cloud had come over the moon, obscuring what littlelight he had; but, worst of all, one of his snowshoes was loose. Withthe cry of the wolves behind him, he did not dare stop to tighten it,although it impeded his progress greatly. He struggled forward as thehowls drew nearer; and then, when it seemed that he would have to giveup, a faint glow of light broke out and he turned toward it with ahoarse cry. An answer reached him, the light grew brighter, and he wasin among the trees.
Benson met him, and a minute later he flung himself down, exhausted, bythe fire.
"I've brought you your supper, boys," he gasped, "but the wolves are onmy trail!"
Harding grabbed the rifle, while Benson poked at the fire until alarger flame swept up, lighting clearly a radius of several yards; butthe wolves, fearing the fire or scenting some other prey, had branchedoff to the right, and the men could hear their howls growing fainter inthe distance.
"We'll have a feast to-night, boys," Benson said, hastily preparing themeal.
They ate with keen appetite, and afterward went to sleep; and when theyreached the woods the next morning nothing was left of the caribouexcept the meat in the tree and a few clean-picked bones.
With a sufficient quantity of meat to stave off their anxiety regardingthe question of food, the men spent two days enjoying a badly neededrest; and then they pushed on, making forced marches which severelytaxed their strength. Part of their way, however, lay across opencountry, for they were near the northern edge of the timber belt, andthe straggling trees, dwarfed and bent by the wind, ran east and westin a deeply indented line. In some places they boldly stretched outtoward the Pole in long promontories; in others they fell back in widebays which Blake, steering by compass, held straight across, afterwardplunging again into the scrub. Three days were spent in strugglingthrough the broadest tongue, but, as a rule, a few hours' arduous marchbrought them out into the open. Even there the ground was very roughand broken, and they were thankful for the numerous frozen creeks andlakes which provided an easier road.
Pushing on stubbornly, camping where they could find shelter and wood,for they could hardly have survived a night spent in the open without afire, they made, by calculation, two hundred miles; and Blake believedthat they must surely be near the Hudson Bay post.