The Intriguers

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE BACK TRAIL

  Blake and his friends spent three weeks at the Hudson Bay post, andthroughout the first fortnight an icy wind hurled the snow against thequivering building. It was dangerous to venture as far as aneighboring bluff, where fuel had been cut; Benson and the agent, whowere hauling cordwood home, narrowly escaped from death one evening inthe suddenly freshening storm. None of the half-breeds could reach thefactory, and Robertson confessed to some anxiety about them. There waslittle that could be done, and they spent the dreary days loungingabout the red-hot stove, and listening to the roar of the gale. In thelong evenings, Robertson told them grim stories of the North.

  Then there came a week of still, clear weather, with intense frost; andwhen several of the trappers arrived, Robertson suggested that hisguests had better accompany a man who was going some distance southwith a dog team. He could, however, spare them only a scanty supply offood, and they knew that a long forced march lay before them when theyleft their guide.

  Day was breaking when the dogs were harnessed to the sled, and Hardingand his companions, shivering in their furs, felt a strong reluctanceto leave the factory. It was a rude place and very lonely, but theyhad enjoyed warmth and food there, and their physical nature shrankfrom the toil and the bitter cold. None of them wished to linger inthe North--Harding least of all--but it was daunting to contemplate thedistance that lay between them and the settlements. Strong effort andstern endurance would be required of them before they rested beside ahearth again.

  There was no wind, the smoke went straight up and, spreading out, hungabove the roof in a motionless cloud; the snow had a strange ghostlyglimmer in the creeping light; and the cold bit to the bone. It waswith a pang that they bade their host farewell, and followed thehalf-breed, who ran down the slope from the door after his team.Robertson was going back to sit, warm and well-fed, by his stove, butthey could not tell what hardships awaited them.

  Their depression, however, vanished after a while. The snow was goodfor traveling, the dogs trotted fast, and the half-breed gruntedapproval of their speed as he pointed to landmarks that proved it whenthey stopped at noon. After that they held on until dark, and madecamp among a few junipers in the shelter of a rock. All had gone wellthe first day; Harding's leg no longer troubled him; and there wascomfort in traveling light with their packs on the sled. The journeybegan to look less formidable. Gathering close round the fire, theyprepared their supper cheerfully, while the dogs fought over scraps offrozen fish. Harding, however, had misgivings about their ability tokeep up the pace; he thought that in a day or two it would tell on thewhite men.

  They slept soundly, for the cold has less effect on the man who isfresh and properly fed. Breakfast was quickly despatched, and after ashort struggle with the dogs they set out again. It was another goodday, and they traveled fast, over a rolling tableland on which the snowsmoothed out the, inequalities among the rocks. Bright sunshinestreamed down on them, the sled ran easily up the slopes and down thehollows, and the men found no difficulty in keeping the pace. Lookingback when they nooned, Harding noticed the straightness of theircourse. Picked out in delicate shades of blue against the unbrokenwhite surface surrounding it, the sled trail ran back with scarcely awaver to the crest of a rise two miles away. This was not how they hadjourneyed north, with the icy wind in their faces, laboriouslystruggling round broken ridges and through tangled woods. Harding wasa sanguine man, but experience warned him to prepare for much lessfavorable conditions. It was not often the wilderness showed a smilingface.

  Still, the fine weather held, and they were deep in the timber whenthey parted from their guide on a frozen stream which he must followwhile they pushed south across a rugged country. He was not acompanionable person, and he spoke only a few words of barbarousFrench, but they were sorry to see the last of him when he left themwith a friendly farewell. He had brought them speedily a long distanceon their way, but they must now trust to the compass and their ownresources; while the loads they strapped on were unpleasantly heavy.Before this task was finished, dogs and driver had vanished up thewhite riband of the stream, and they felt lonely as they stood in thebottom of the gorge with steep rocks and dark pines hemming them in.Blake glanced at the high bank with a rueful smile.

  "There are advantages in having a good guide," he said. "We haven'thad to face a climb like that all the way. But we'd better get up."

  It cost them some labor, and when they reached the summit they stoppedto look for the easiest road. Ahead, as far as they could see, small,ragged pines grew among the rocks, and breaks in the uneven surfacehinted at troublesome ravines.

  "It looks rough," said Benson. "There's rather a high ridge yonder.It might save trouble to work round its end. What do you think?"

  "When I'm not sure," Harding replied, "I mean to go straight south."

  Benson gave him an understanding nod.

  "You have better reasons for getting back than the rest of us; thoughI've no particular wish to loiter up here. Break the trail, Blake; duesouth by compass!"

  They plunged deeper into the broken belt, clambering down ravines,crossing frozen lakes and snowy creeks. Indeed, they were thankfulwhen a strip of level surface indicated water, for the toil of gettingthrough the timber was heavy.

  After two days of travel there was a yellow sunset, and the snowgleamed in the lurid light with an ominous brilliance, while as theymade their fire a moaning wind got up. These things presaged a changein the weather, and they were rather silent over the evening meal.They missed the half-breed and the snarling dogs, and it looked as ifthe good fortune that had so far attended them were coming to an end.

  The next morning there was a low, brooding sky, and at noon snow beganto fall, but they kept on until evening over very rough ground, andthen they held a council round the fire.

  "The situation requires some thought," Blake said. "First of all, ourprovisions won't carry us through the timber belt. Now, the shortestcourse to the prairie, where the going will be easier, is due south;but after we get there we'll have a long march to the settlements. I'dpartly counted on our killing a caribou, or perhaps a moose, but so farwe've seen no tracks."

  "There must be some smaller animals that the Indians eat," Bensonsuggested.

  "None of us knows where to look for them, and we haven't much time tospare for hunting."

  "That's so," Harding agreed. "What's your plan?"

  "I'm in favor of heading southwest. It may mean an extra hundredmiles, or more, but it would bring us nearer the Stony village, andafterward the logging camp on the edge of the timber, where we mightget supplies."

  "It's understood that the Indians are often half starved in winter,"Benson reminded him. "For all that, they might have had good luck;and, anyway, we couldn't cross the prairie with an empty grubsack. Myvote's for striking off to the west."

  Harding concurred, though his leg had threatened further trouble duringthe last day or two, and he would have preferred the shorter route.

  "What about the petroleum?" Blake asked.

  "We can't stop to look for it unless we can lay in a good stock offood, and I don't suppose we could do much prospecting with the snow onthe ground," Harding paused with a thoughtful air. "When we reach thesettlement I must go home, but if the money can be raised, I'll be backas soon as the thaw comes, to try for the oil, Clarke's an unusuallysmart man, and there's no doubt he's on the trail."

  "We'll raise enough money somehow," Benson declared.

  Harding smiled.

  "Yes, we'll raise the money somehow," he agreed. "It has been myexperience that when you want a thing badly enough, there's always someway to get it."

  He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and stood up, stretching andyawning.

  "Right now I want sleep," he said.

  When dawn came the next morning, it was snowing hard, and for a weekthey made poor progress, with a bitter gale driving the flakes in theirfaces. Each day the d
istance covered steadily lessened, and rationswere cut down accordingly. Harding's leg was getting sore, but he didnot mean to speak of it unless it became necessary. They were,however, approaching the neighborhood of the Indian village and Blakebegan to speculate upon the probability of their finding itsinhabitants at home. He understood that the Stonies wandered about,and he realized with uneasiness that it would be singularly unfortunateif they were away on a hunting trip.

  At last, after spending all of one blustering day laboriously climbingthe rough but gently rising slope of a long divide, they camped on ahigh tableland, and lay awake, too cold to sleep, beside a sulky,greenwood fire. In the morning it was difficult to get up on theirfeet, but as the light grew clearer, the prospect ahead of them seizedtheir attention. The hill summits were wrapped in leaden cloud, but avalley opened up below. It was wider and deeper than any they had comeacross since leaving the factory, the bottom looked unusually level,and it ran roughly south.

  They gazed at it in silence for a time; and then Harding spoke.

  "I've an idea that this is the valley where Blake fell sick, and it'sgoing to straighten things out for us if I'm right."

  "That's so," Benson agreed, "We would be sure of striking the Stonyvillage, and we could afterward follow the low ground right down to theriver. With the muskegs frozen solid, it ought to make an easy road."

  Blake was conscious of keen satisfaction; but there was still a doubt.

  "We'll know more about it after another march," he said.

  No snow fell that morning, and as their packs were ominously light theymade good speed across the hill benches and down a ravine where theyscrambled among the boulders of a frozen creek. It was a gray daywithout the rise in temperature that often accompanies cloudiness, andthe light was strangely dim. Rocks and pines melted into one anotherat a short distance, and leaden haze obscured the lower valley. Blakewas becoming sure, however, that it was the one they had traveled upand, dispensing with the usual noon halt, they pushed on as fast aspossible. All were anxious to set their doubts at rest, for there wasnow a prospect of obtaining food and shelter in a few days; but theyrecognized no landmarks, and with the approach of evening the frostgrew very keen. The haze drew in closer, and the scattered pines theypassed wailed drearily in a rising wind. The men were tired, but theycould see no suitable camping place, and they pushed on, looking forthicker timber.

  It was getting dark when a belt of trees stretched across the valley,and they decided to stop there. Benson, leading the way, suddenlycried out.

  "What is it?" Harding asked.

  Benson hesitated.

  "Well," he said, "the thing doesn't seem probable, but I believe I sawa light. Anyway, it's gone."

  They stopped, gazing eagerly into the gloom. A light meant that therewere men not far off, and after the grim desolation through which theyhad traveled all were conscious of a longing for human society.Besides, the strangers would no doubt have something to eat--they mighteven be cooking a plentiful supper. There was, however, nothing to beseen until Blake moved a few yards to one side. Then he turned toBenson with a cheerful laugh.

  "You were right! I can see a glimmer about a mile ahead. I wonder whothe fellows are?"

  They set off as fast as they could go, though traveling among thefallen branches and the slanting trees was difficult in the dark. Nowand then they lost their beacon, but the brightening glow shone outagain, and when it was visible Blake watched it with surprise. It waslow, hardly large enough, he thought, for a fire, and it had a curiousirregular flicker. Drawing nearer, they dipped into a hollow wherethey could distinguish only a faint brightness beyond the rising groundahead. They eagerly ascended that, and reaching the summit, they sawthe light plainly; but it was very small, and there were no figuresoutlined against it. Benson shouted, and all three felt a shock ofdisappointment when no answer came to them.

  He ran as fast as his snowshoes would let him, smashing through brush,floundering over snowy stories, with Blake and Harding stumbling, shortof breath, behind; and then he stopped with a hoarse cry. He stoodbeside the light; there was nobody about; the blaze sprang upmysteriously from the frozen ground.

  "A blower of natural gas!" Harding exclaimed excitedly. "In a sense,we've had our run for nothing, but this may be worth a good deal morethan your supper."

  "If I had the option, I'd trade all the natural gas in Canada for athick, red, moose steak, and a warm place to sleep in," Benson saidsavagely. "Anyway, it will help us to light our fire, and we have abit of whitefish and a few hard bannocks left."

  Blake shared his comrade's disappointment. He was tired and hungry,and he felt irritated by Harding's satisfaction. For all that, hechopped wood and made camp, and their frugal supper was half eatenbefore he turned to the optimistic American.

  "Now," he said, "maybe you will tell us why you were so cheerful aboutthis gas."

  "First of all," Harding answered good-humoredly, "it indicates thatthere's oil somewhere about--the two generally go together. Anyway, ifthere were only gas, it would be worth exploiting, so long as we foundenough of it; but judging by the pressure there's not much here."

  "What would you do with gas in this wilderness?"

  "In due time, I or somebody else would build a town. Fuel's power, andif you could get it cheap, you'd find minerals that would pay forworking. Men with money in Montreal and New York are looking foropenings like this; no place is too remote to build a railroad to ifyou can ensure freight."

  "You're the most sanguine man I ever met," Blake commented. "Take careyour optimism doesn't ruin you."

  "I wonder," Harding went on, "whether Clarke knows about this gas? Onthe whole, I think it probable. We can't be very far from the Stonycamp, and there's reason to believe he's been prospecting thisdistrict. It's oil he's out for."

  "How did the thing get lighted?" Benson asked in an indifferent tone.

  Harding smiled as he gave him a sharp glance. He had failed in hissearch for the gum, and he did not expect his companions to share hisenthusiasm over a new plan. They had, however, promised to supporthim, and that was enough, for he believed he might yet show them theway to prosperity.

  "Well," he said, "I guess I can't blame you for not feeling very keen;but that's not the point. I can't answer what you ask, and I believeour forest wardens are now and then puzzled about how bush fires getstarted. We have crossed big belts of burned trees in a country wherewe saw no signs of Indians."

  "If this blower has been burning long, the Stonies must know of it,"Blake said. "Isn't it curious that no news of it has reached thesettlements?"

  "I'm not sure. They may venerate the thing; and, anyway, they're smartin some respects. They know that where the white men come their peopleare rounded up on reservations, and I guess they'd rather have thewhole country to themselves for trapping and fishing. Then, Clarke mayhave persuaded them to say nothing."

  "It's possible," Blake agreed thoughtfully. "We'll push on for theircamp the first thing tomorrow."