CHAPTER XVII
A RESPITE
Light snow was driving across the waste before a savage wind when theparty sat at breakfast one morning. Day had broken, but there waslittle light, and Blake, looking out from behind a slab of rock in theshelter of which a few junipers clung, thought that three or four mileswould be the longest distance that he could see. This was peculiarlyunfortunate, because an Indian trapper whom they had met two daysbefore had told them that their course led across a wide untimberedstretch, on the opposite side of which one or two isolated bluffs wouldindicate the neighborhood of the factory. Disastrous consequencesmight follow the missing of these woods.
A pannikin of weak tea made from leaves which already had been twiceinfused stood among the embers; and Benson was leaning over a log,dividing the last of the meat. He held up a small piece.
"I had thought of saving this, but it hardly seems worth while," hesaid. "If we make the factory tonight, we'll get a good supper."
"You don't mention what will happen if we miss it," Harding commentedwith grim humor. "Anyway, that piece of meat won't make muchdifference. What do you think, Blake?"
Blake forced a cheerful laugh.
"Put it all in; we're going to make the post; as a matter of fact, wehave to! How's the leg this morning?"
"I don't think it's worse than it was last night," Harding answered."If I'm careful how I go, it ought to stand another journey."
He made a grimace as he stretched out the limb. It was very sore, forduring the last few days the strain the snowshoe threw on the muscleshad nearly disabled him. Now, he knew it would be difficult to holdout for another journey; but he had grown accustomed to pain andweariness and hunger. They were, he imagined, the lot of all whobraved the rigors of winter in the northern wilds.
"Well," said Benson, "there's no use in carrying anything that's notstrictly needful, and the empty grub-bag may stay behind. Then here'sa pair of worn-out moccasins I was keeping as a stand by. I should beable to get new ones at the factory."
"It's still some distance off," Harding reminded him.
"If we don't make it, the chances are that I won't need the things.But what about your collection of gum?"
Nothing had been said on this point for some time, but Harding's facewore a curious look as he took up a bag which weighed three or fourpounds.
"Some of the stuff might be used for low-grade varnish; but that's notwhat I'm out for. I've been trying to believe that a few of thespecimens might prove better on analysis; but I guess it's a delusion."
With a quick, resolute movement, he threw the bag into the fire, andwhen the resin flared up with a thick brown smoke the others regardedhim with silent sympathy. This was the end of the project from whichhe had expected so much; but it was obvious that he could meet failurewith fortitude. Nothing that would serve any purpose could be said,and they quietly strapped on their blankets.
There was not much snow when they set off, and fortunately the windblew behind them, but the white haze narrowed in the prospect andBlake, breaking the trail, kept his eyes on the compass. He was not atall sure of the right line, but he had the satisfaction of knowing thathe was, at least, going straight.
After a few minutes, Harding glanced behind. Their camping place hadvanished, they were out in an open waste, and he knew that he hadstarted on the last march he was capable of making. Where it wouldlead him he could not tell, though the answer to the question was ofvital importance. For a time he thought of his wife, and wondered withkeen anxiety what would become of her if his strength gave way beforethey reached the post; but he drove these cares out of his mind. Itwas dangerous to harbor them, and it served no purpose; his part was tostruggle on, swinging the net snowshoes while he grappled with the paineach step caused him. He shrank from contemplating the distance yet tobe covered; it seemed vast to him in his weakness, and he felt himselfa feeble, crippled thing. Soft snow and arctic cold opposed hisadvance with malignant force; but his worn-out body still obeyed thespur of his will, and he roused himself to fight for the life that hadsome value to another. He must march, dividing up the distance intoshort stages that had less effect upon the imagination; limping forwardfrom the ice-glazed rock abreast of him to the white hillock whichloomed up dimly where the snow blurred the horizon; then again he wouldlook ahead from some patch of scrub to the most prominent elevationthat he could see.
The marks he chose and passed seemed innumerable; but the wildernessstill ran on, pitilessly empty. His leg was intensely painful; he knewthat he must break down soon; and they had seen nothing of a stony risefor which they watched eagerly. To find it would simplify matters, forthe Indian had made them understand that the bluffs about the post laynearly east of it.
Noon passed, and they still pressed forward without a halt, for therewas little more than three hours' daylight left, and it was unthinkablethat they should spend the night without food or shelter. The horizonsteadily narrowed as the snow thickened; there was a risk of theirpassing the guiding-marks, or even the factory.
It was nearly three o'clock when Harding stumbled and fell into thesnow. He found himself unable to get up until Benson helped him, andin his attempt to rise he further strained his weakened leg. For amoment he leaned on his companion, his face contorted with pain.
"The fall seems to have hurt you," Benson said sympathetically.
"I'll have to go on," Harding gasped; and, setting his teeth, he strodeforward; but he made only a few paces. The pain was severe; his headreeled; his strength gave way and he sank down on his knees.
Benson and Blake stopped in consternation.
"If I've kept the right line, we can't be far from the factory," Blakesaid encouragingly.
"I'm played out," Harding declared. "You'll have to leave me here. Ifyou make the post, you can come back with a sled."
"No! How are we to find you with our trail drifting up? Besides,you'd be frozen in a few hours. If you can't walk, you'll have to becarried. Get hold of him, Benson!"
Benson lifted him to his feet, Blake seized his arm, and, bothsupporting him, they resumed the march. Leaning on them heavily,Harding was dragged along, and they silenced the feeble protests hemade now and then.
"Stop talking that rot! We see this out together!" Blake told himroughly.
None of them had much doubt as to what the end would be, but theystubbornly held on. Nothing further was said. Blake and Bensonthemselves were nearly exhausted, and their pinched faces were set andstern, and Harding's was drawn up in a ghastly fashion by suffering.Still, their overtaxed muscles somehow obeyed the relentless call onthem.
At last, when the light had almost gone, Benson stepped into a slightdepression that slanted across their path.
"Hold on!" he cried hoarsely. "Look at this!"
Blake stooped, while Harding, swaying awkwardly with bent leg, held onto him. The hollow was small: a smooth groove of slightly lower levelthan the rest of the snow.
"A sledge trail!" he cried in an exultant voice. "Drifted up a bit,but they've been hauling lumber over it, and that means a good deal tous!" He indicated a shallow furrow a foot or two outside the groove."That's been made by the butt of a trailing log. The Indian said therewere bluffs near the post, and they wouldn't haul their cordwoodfarther than necessary!"
They stood silent for a few moments, overcome by relief. They had aguide to shelter and safety! When they had gathered breath, Blakesteadied Harding, who found standing difficult.
"We must make a move and hustle all we can," he said eagerly. "It willbe dark in half an hour, and the snow won't take long in filling up thetrail."
The risk of missing the factory, which might be near at hand, was notto be faced, and they pulled themselves together for a last effort,Blake and Benson, breathing hard as they dragged Harding along. Thelight was rapidly going; now that they had changed their course thesnow lashed their faces, making it difficult to see, and they ploddedforward with lowered heads and eyes fixed
on the guiding-line. It grewfaint in places, and vanished altogether after a while. Then theystopped in dismay, and Blake went down on his knees, scraping withragged mittens in the snow.
"I can't see which way it runs, but it certainly doesn't end here," hesaid. "Go ahead and look for it, Benson; but don't get out of call!"
Benson moved forward, and when he faded into the cloud of drivingflakes those he left behind were conscious of a keen uneasiness. Theycould see only a few yards; it was blowing fresh and the wind mightcarry their voices away, and if this happened the chances were againsttheir comrade's being able to rejoin them. After a few minutes Blakeshouted, and the answer was reassuring. They waited a little longer,and then when they cried out a hail came back very faintly:
"Nothing yet!"
"Keep closer!" Blake shouted; but it seemed that Benson did not hearhim, for there was no reply.
"Hadn't you better go after him?" Harding suggested.
"No!" Blake snapped. "It would make things worse to scatter." Heraised his voice. "Come back, before your tracks fill up!"
The silence that followed filled them with alarm; but while theylistened in strained suspense a faint call came out of the snow. Thewords were indistinguishable, but the voice had an exultant note in it.
"He has found the trail!" Blake exclaimed with deep relief.
It was difficult to see the print of Benson's shoes, and Harding couldnot move a step alone, but they called out at intervals as Blake slowlyhelped him along, and at last a shadowy object loomed in front of them.As they came up, Benson pointed to a slight depression.
"We can follow it if it gets no fainter; but there's no time to lose,"he said. "It might be safer if I went first and kept my eye on thetrail."
He shuffled forward with lowered head, while Blake came behind, helpingHarding as best he could. All three long remembered the nexthalf-hour. Once they lost the trail and were seized with despair, but,searching anxiously, they found it again.
At last a pale, elusive light appeared amid the snow ahead, and theywatched it with keen satisfaction as it grew clearer. When it hadchanged to a strong yellow glow, they passed a broken white barrierwhich Blake supposed was a ruined stockade, and the hazy mass of abuilding showed against the snow. Then there was a loud barking ofdogs, and while they sought for the door a stream of light suddenlyshone out, with a man's dark figure in the midst of it.
The next minute they entered the house, and Harding, lurching forwardacross the floor of a large room, clutched at a table and then fellwith a crash into a chair. After the extreme cold outside, the air wassuffocatingly hot. Overcome by the change and pain, Harding leanedback with flushed face and half-closed eyes, while his companions stoodstill, with the snow glistening on their ragged furs.
The man shut the door before he turned to them.
"A rough night," he said calmly. "Ye might as weel sit down. Where doye hail from?"
Blake laughed as he found a seat. He imagined that their appearancemust have been somewhat startling, but he knew it takes a good deal todisturb the equanimity of a Hudson Bay Scot.
"From Sweetwater; but we have been up in the timber belt since winterset in. Now we have run out of provisions and my partner's lamed bysnowshoe trouble."
"Ay," said the man; "I suspected something o' the kind. But maybeye'll be wanting supper?"
"I believe, if we were put to it, we could eat half a caribou," Bensontold him with a grin.
"It's no to be had," the Scot answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Ican give ye a good thick bannock and some whitefish. Our stores are noso plentiful the now."
They took off their furs and glanced about the place while their hostwas busy at the stove. The room was large, and its walls of narrowlogs were chinked with clay and moss. Guns and steel traps hung uponthem; the floor was made of uneven boards which had obviously beensplit in the nearest bluff; and the furniture was of the simplest andrudest description. The room had, however, an air of supreme comfortto the famishing newcomers, and after the first few minutes they foundit delightfully warm. They ate ravenously the food given them, andafterward the agent brought Harding some warm water and examined hisleg.
"Ye'll no walk far for a while, I'm thinking," he commented. "Rest iton the chair here and sit ye still."
Harding was glad to comply; and, lighting their pipes, the men began totalk. Their host, who told them his name was Robertson, was a ratherhard-featured man of middle age.
"I'm all my lone; my clerk's away with the breeds at the Swan Lake," hesaid. "Where are ye making for?"
"For the south," Blake answered. "We came here for shelter, badlytired, and we want to hire a dog team and a half-breed guide, ifpossible, as soon as my partner's fit to travel. Then we wantprovisions."
"I'm afraid I cannot supply ye. Our stores are low--we got few fishand caribou the year, and we have not a team to spare."
"Well," said Benson, "I don't suppose you'll turn us out, and we'd beglad to pay for our accommodation. We have no wish to take the trailagain without food or transport."
Robertson looked thoughtful.
"Ye might wait a week or two; and then we'll maybe see better what canbe done."
He asked them a few questions about their journey, and then Hardingtook the piece of gum from its case.
"I guess you have seen nothing like this round here?"
"No," said Robertson, after examining it carefully. "I have made it mybusiness to study the natural products o' the district, and it's myopinion ye'll find no gum of this kind in the northern timber belt."
"I suppose you're right. Leaving furs out, if the country's rich inanything, it's probably minerals."
"There's copper and some silver, but I've seen no ore that would payfor working when ye consider the transport."
"I don't suppose you're anxious to encourage prospecting," Bensonsuggested.
Robertson smiled.
"If there was a rich strike, we would no object. We're here to trade,and supplying miners is no quite so chancy as dealing in furs; but tohave a crowd from the settlements disturbing our preserves and goingaway after finding nothing o' value would not suit us. Still, I'mthinking it's no likely: the distance and the winter will keep themout."
"Did you ever see signs of oil?"
"No here; there's petroleum three hundred miles south, but no enough,in my opinion, to pay for driving wells. Onyway, the two prospectingparties that once came up didna come back again."
He left them presently, and when they heard him moving about anadjoining room, Harding made a suggestion.
"We'll stay here for a while and then look for that petroleum on ourway to the settlements."
Blake agreed readily; the determination, he thought, was characteristicof his comrade. Harding's project had failed, but instead of beingcrushed by disappointment, he was already considering another.