CHAPTER X
LOST
"Phil, I'm clear tuckered out."
"Don't say that, Andy."
"I do say it, and I mean it, too," declared Andy Sabine in a vehement tone. "Whew! roar ye winds, and blow ye tempests, blow! I'm chock-full of snow. Oh! it's great to be a hero on a smooth road in fine weather, but this—. I wish I was back in Concord."
"Why not Boston? so brace up and get there!" cried Phil doughtily. "Leave the reins alone, Andy, we've got to a pass where horse sense is better than human sense. If old Dobbin's instinct can't direct us to a harbor of safety and a haven of rest,—well, we've just got to stand it, that's all."
It was three days after the boys had met Dr. Warren. Both mounted on one horse slowly, tediously traversing a dreary solitude amid snow at some places two feet deep, surrounded by black, tempestuous night, Phil and Andy realized what it was to be lost in a gloomy New England forest.
Everything "had gone just lovely!" Andy had declared only that morning when they had left Brookton in gay, hopeful spirits. Without mar or adventure they had executed their mission for Dr. Warren. They had taken his message to Adams and Hancock, had been praised and rewarded by those two sterling patriots, had sent the two horses belonging to Mr. Sabine home and had started for Boston mounted on the only horse they were able to hire.
They had taken turns ambling along on the slow-paced old nag. Then as night came on and a blinding snow storm set in, they had gotten off the road in some way, and now knew they were lost in a vast gloomy forest, far from any human habitation.
The horse steaming, panting, and his head bent low, was plowing his way forward. Phil called a halt. He got as much shelter as some fir trees afforded, and spreading out a blanket placed nearly the last of their oats before the tired animal. Then he and Andy divided some bread and cheese they had bought in the last town visited.
Andy suggested that they try and make a lean-to, or some temporary shelter for themselves and the horse, and wait until the storm abated, but Phil demurred to this.
"We'd be snowed under and half-frozen to death," he remarked. "No, Andy, we must keep on the move. Even old Dobbin, tired out as he is, says that."
"How does he say it?" inquired Andy curiously.
"Watch him move about restlessly, and sniff and head south as if he realized we mustn't stand still, and as if knew that some habitation or town is ahead. I reckon we'll trust to horse sense, Andy, and see what it brings us to."
After a spell the two youths got themselves in as comfortable a position as was possible on the single saddle. Phil kept hold of the reins, but he did not attempt to guide the horse. That intelligent animal made slow but sure-footed progress. The snow was falling heavily and swirling all about them. The boys spread the blanket over them. It served as a tent shelter for themselves and as a partial covering for the horse.
"That's a good deal warmer," said Andy. "I hope the old horse doesn't give out. I never saw such a night, Phil!"
They conversed casually for some time. Then there was a lapse to silence. Phil felt Andy lean up against him, breathing heavily.
"He's asleep, poor fellow," soliloquized Phil. "I'm drowsy myself. This will be an experience to talk about, I'm thinking. This tent of ours is getting a pretty heavy roof, it seems to me."
Phil shook the blanket and dislodged some of the snow that had gathered there. Then he settled down to make the most of an unpleasant and dubious situation. The blanket shut out the cold. The faithful horse seemed to need no guidance, and Phil dozed away before he was aware of it.
"Hello!" was his waking exclamation, how long afterwards he could not estimate. "Why the horse has stopped, and—what's that?"
A dull crash greeted Phil's ears. Instantly he roused up, threw the blanket off, and tried to make out where he was and what had happened.
"Why, it's a house," said Phil—"we are bolt up against it and the horse has nosed in a window. Andy! Andy!" he shouted, shaking his companion violently. "We've arrived—somewhere."
Andy was quickly aroused, and both boys were actively wide-awake in an instant. They slipped from the horse, to land to the knees in snow. The horse had poked his nose through the window he had broken and was sniffing, as if inhaling warmth.
The house, which occupied a clearing, was built of logs and had a shed behind it. Phil wandered around to the front of the place. He knocked loudly at the door several times, then he shouted. There was no response, and he lifted and rattled the latch. To his surprise the door gave and opened inwards.
A pleasant breath of warm air was wafted across to Phil's face. It gave him a sense of comfort to step out of the cold and storm. In an old-fashioned fireplace there was a glow of half-burned out embers. Phil peered around the room, which contained several rude articles of furniture, but he could not detect the presence of any other human being besides himself.
"Funny," mused the boy. "I've made noise enough to arouse a troop. There doesn't appear to be anybody about the place. Andy! I say, Andy!" he called out, through the open doorway. "Come in here for a minute, will you?"
Andy entered, shaking the snow from his clothing, pleased and excited at reaching a place of shelter, but fully as much surprised as Phil at finding no one in the house. There was a candle on the table, and Phil lit this. He pushed open a rear door, which led into the shed extension he had noticed from the outside. The lower portion of the house comprised only one room. There was a ladder running to a scuttle in the ceiling. Phil took the candle and ascended this ladder.
"No one up here. Only a garret with a few old traps in it," he reported to Andy, descending again. "Now, Andy, what do you think of all this?"
"I don't know what to think," said Andy. "There is a fire, the place looks and feels as if it had a regular tenant, out of the way, desolate locality as it is, but where is he?"
"Well, we'll wait his return," said Phil accommodatingly. "The most cross-grained old hermit in the world wouldn't refuse shelter to man or beast on such a wild night as this is. We must attend to the horse, too. Faithful old fellow! he's done his duty well by us."
Phil went outside, to find that the horse had strolled around to the shed. The intelligent animal had nosed open its door partly. Phil pulled it clear back with some difficulty, for the snow was very deep. Then he led the horse in. Andy had opened the door leading from the house, illuminating the shed.
The place had a quantity of hay in it, and evidently had been used as a stable on former occasions. It held also some split cord wood. Phil blanketed the horse and carried an armful of the wood into the house, replenishing the fire.
"This is comfort all around," he observed with satisfaction, as the fire blazed up.
"Yes," asserted Andy, trying to fix the pane of glass that the horse had broken, so the snow would not drift in. "Tell you one thing, though," he added.
"What's that, Andy."
"This is a queer old place in the wilderness. There isn't the sign of bed or food here, no cooking utensils, nothing but wood and hay. Isn't it funny?"
"It is queer, Andy," answered Phil. "It looks as if this was a place that people stayed in once in a while, but didn't exactly live here."
"Well!" cried Andy, as he happened to bump against the small table that stood in the center of the room. Its cover rattled off onto the floor. "Hello!" he added in surprise, as he went to pick up the loosened cover, and observed its reverse side. "I say, Phil Warrington, here is mystery on top of mystery!"