“It is that, but you don’t mind it much in this dry air,” Big Ben said, holding out his hands to the heat from the stove. “By the way,” he added after a moment’s pause, “where’s Tom?”
“He left for Greenville about half an hour ago,” Bob replied.
“Hum, that’s too bad.”
“I’m sorry if you wanted to see him,” Bob returned. “Anything we can do?”
The big man thought a moment as though undecided what course to take. “Well, I dunno,” he finally drawled. “You see I kinder wanted to enter a complaint like.”
“A complaint! What do you mean? Have any our men been bothering you?” Bob put into his voice all the surprise of which he was capable.
“Kinder looks that way from the road, so to speak.”
“You don’t mean it. Please tell us about it. I’m sure that Tom would never stand for anything of that sort.”
“Well, ’twas like this. Early this morning one of my Frenchmen started for the spring for a jug of water and when he was about half way there some guy shot at him and busted the jug.”
“Is it possible? Who do you suppose would have done such a thing?” and Bob succeeded in bringing to his face a well simulated expression of horror.
“I dunno, but I followed two sets of snow-shoe tracks from just this side of my camp to here. They were the only tracks I could find and it looks mighty suspicious. What do you think? Of course,” he hastened to add, “I don’t care nothin’ about the jug, but it scared the fellow so that he’s plumb afraid to stir out o’ the mess house and he’s talked so much about it that a lot of the rest of ’em have got the fidgets.”
“Just a minute, Mr. Donahue,” Bob interrupted. “You say the man was going for water? I didn’t know there was a spring this side of your camp. I thought you got your drinking water on the other side of your camp.”
Big Ben shifted a bit uneasily in his chair. He realized that he had made a slight mistake and hastened to correct it.
“So we do, but that’s what the fellow said he was after. Perhaps he had found another spring up this way somewhere, I dunno. Anyhow, that don’t make no difference, he was on my land.”
“I believe there’s some question in regard to that,” Bob declared hastily. “If I’m not mistaken Father’s line runs pretty close to your camp.”
“Not so you’d notice it it don’t,” and the big man got to his feet and the boys saw that the good-natured look on his face had changed to one of anger. “That tract belongs to me,” he roared, “an’ I’ve got the papers to prove it.”
“Just a minute, Mr. Donahue,” Bob said in a perfectly calm voice. “There is no need to get excited about it. That is a question for the court to decide. But now that you have introduced the subject, I’m going to say a few things. Please sit down.”
The big man, evidently realizing that he was not showing to very good advantage in losing his temper before a couple of boys, resumed his seat.
“All right,” he said, trying to make his voice sound calm, “I’ll hear what you have to say; shoot.”
“Thanks. Now in the first place you know as well as we do that that man had liquor in that jug and that he was coming up here to sell or give it to some of our men. And it isn’t the first time that it has been done either. Now, wait a minute please,” as he was about to interrupt, “let me finish and then you can have your say. I shot that jug to pieces and I claim that under the circumstances I had a perfect right to; and I give you fair warning right now that if it is tried again something worse may happen than the loss of a jug. First you tried to scare our men away with a fake ghost and then you tried to get them drunk. It’s of no use for you to deny it,” he added hastily, as he saw that Big Ben was on the point of speaking. “Now I’m done and will gladly listen to what you have to say.”
While Bob had been speaking the big man had been getting more and more red in the face, and it was plain to both of the boys that he was having all he could do to keep his temper under control.
“Do you know that I could have you arrested for assault?” he asked, making a mighty effort to keep his voice down to its natural key. “How do I know that you didn’t intend to shoot the man instead of the jug?”
“Possibly you could,” Bob replied calmly. “But just now it is a pretty serious thing to sell hooch.”
“Huh, you’ve got no evidence ag’in me on that score.”
“That’s as may be.” Bob was still perfectly calm. A fact which seemed to exasperate the big man almost to the limit of his will power. “If you think it best to have me arrested don’t hesitate on my account, but remember that I have a witness that that jug contained something besides water,” Bob reminded him.
For some time Big Ben made no reply, then he got slowly to his feet and leaned against the big table facing the boys, and now his face had recovered its friendly expression.
“All right, we’ll let it go at that,” he said. “And as for that ghost business, that was only a bit of fun on the part of some of the men. I didn’t know nothin’ about it till ’twas all over.”
“Suits us,” Bob declared, as he too got up from his chair. “All we want is fair play. You let us alone and we’ll do the same by you. But we’re not going to sit still and have our work interrupted and do nothing about it,” he continued, in no way deceived by Big Ben’s smooth front.
“He knew he was getting as good as he was sending all right,” Jack laughed as soon as their visitor had taken his departure.
“Maybe,” Bob returned, a worried look on his face. “But he means trouble and he’s not the one to give up when he once starts out to do a thing. You know that as well as I do. Oh, he’s a slick one all right, but believe me he didn’t pull any wool over my eyes.”
“Nor mine either,” Jack declared hastily. “It won’t be his fault if Father gets away with that contract. But what do you think he’ll try next?”
“Pretty hard to say. But come on, every tree down helps just so much, and I feel like working off some of my surplus anger with an ax,” and Bob led the way to the chopping.
As Bob had predicted, a wonderful change had taken place in the Frenchman, Jean Larue. His overbearing attitude had disappeared entirely and a spirit of genial goodfellowship had taken its place. His companions, always generous to a fault, were quick to notice the change and to throw all previous hard feelings to the winds and accept him on the new basis. Instead of being feared and hated, he soon became one of the most popular men in the crew. He eagerly sought the company of Bob and Jack, and they gladly welcomed his company.
They were about half through supper that night when Tom Bean returned from Greenville and, to their great joy, Mr. Golden was with him.
“Thought I’d run up and see how things were going,” he explained as he greeted the boys. “Tom tells me that we’re making good time so far and that you are developing into first class choppers.”
As soon as supper was over Mr. Golden, Tom and the boys went at once to the office, and as soon as they had the stove roaring in good shape, Jack gave them an account of their morning visitor.
“I’m mighty sorry to have trouble with Ben,” Mr. Golden said, when he had finished. “The man is a bad one to have as an enemy, but I hardly see how it can be helped. It’s the loss of that deed that worries me most. As it stands now he’s got the law on his side, and unless I can find it it looks as though I’d have to lose the tract. That injunction which I got out forbidding him to cut on it isn’t really worth the paper it’s written on, and I imagine he knows it, so if he starts cutting don’t do anything about it; we’d only get into trouble and probably not accomplish anything. If I ever find the deed I can make him pay for all he cuts, and if not, well, I guess the tract’s his.”
“But didn’t yer have no witness when the deed was made?” Tom asked as he put a high chunk of rock maple in the stove.
“Certainly, but it happens that they’re both dead,” Mr. Golden replied sadly. “By the way, boys, I received a letter this morning from Colonel Break stating that they have had a fire at the Fortress and college will not open for at least two weeks later.”
“Hurrah,” Jack shouted, and then suddenly stopped. “I didn’t really mean that,” he said soberly. “Of course I’m mighty sorry for the colonel and all that, but just think of having two whole weeks more up here.”
As they were about to separate for the night, Mr. Golden told the boys that he had promised Edna, their sister, that he would bring her some spruce gum.
“I’ll have to leave right after dinner in order to catch the afternoon train, so you boys had better take the forenoon and get it for me. You know what Edna will say if I come home without it.” And he smiled as though it was something not greatly to be feared but to be avoided if possible.
“All right, sir, we’ll get it,” Bob said smiling. “I know where there’s a dandy gum tree. I saw it this morning and if I’m any judge it’s good for several pounds.”
A half hour after daylight, the next morning, found the boys on their way toward Big Ben’s camp.
“That tree is about a hundred yards this side of where that Frenchman was standing when I shot his jug,” Bob said as they trudged along. “I could see big lumps of gum sticking out of the seam as far up as I could see, and it looked like dandy gum too. We’ll get a lot of it and take some back to college with us. I’ll bet half of the boys never chewed spruce gum or even heard of it for that matter.”
The going was excellent and in a short time he stopped at the foot of an immense spruce.
“Here it is,” he announced, as he stopped to take off his snow-shoes. “I’ll climb up first and you hand the shoes to me,” he proposed as he leaped for the lowest branch. “I don’t like the idea of leaving them on the ground,” he explained as Jack joined him. “I wouldn’t put it past some of those fellows to swipe ’em if they got the chance, and I feel safer with ’em up here,” and he carefully tied them to a branch about twenty feet above the ground.
Each had brought a small canvas bag and so plentiful were the almost transparent lumps that in a little over an hour both bags were nearly filled.
“Best gumming I ever saw,” Jack declared from his perch well up near the top of the tree.
“And did you ever see such clear lumps?” Bob asked, as he shifted his position on a limb a bit lower. “It’s too bad we didn’t bring a couple more bags,” he added. “But we’ll fill our pockets. You don’t often get a chance like this.”
For another hour they kept at it and had about decided to call it quits, when Jack’s quick ears caught the sound of voices from below. He nudged Bob’s leg, which, at that moment, was hanging over a limb directly over his head, and as the latter turned, he put his finger to his lips.
As they listened the sound of voices came to them more plainly. Two men were talking beneath a tree a bit to the right of the one they were in, and it was evident that they were making no effort to moderate their tones, not dreaming that there was anyone in the vicinity. They were not long in recognizing the voice of Big Ben Donahue, but the other man was a stranger to them. They were not in the habit of eavesdropping but under the circumstances they felt justified in listening. They soon learned that the stranger was urging Big Ben to begin cutting on the disputed tract and to Bob’s surprise, from what he had overheard that night in the wayside hotel, the other was reluctant to take his advice.
“I know I told ’im that no one would dare to serve that injunction on me, but that’s not the point. Suppose I go ahead and cut a lot of lumber off of that tract and then that deed turns up?”
“Thunder an’ spikes! I thought you had the deed,” they heard the other reply.
“Well, I ain’t. I found it in the booth in the bank just after Golden had been in there and I put it in my pocket, but there was a hole in it and when I came to look for it, it wasn’t there. It must a dropped out and someone picked it up, so you see how it is. I don’t know where it is and it may turn up any time and then I’d be in a pretty pickle.”
“You sure had a nerve to go ahead and get that fake deed fixed up and all the rest when you didn’t have the deed,” the stranger declared in a tone of disgust.
“Confound it, man, I didn’t miss the deed till after I’d done all that. Thought it was in my pocket all the time. Oh, I know it’s carelessness about such things that’s kept me from being a rich man, but I can’t seem to help it,” and the man’s voice took on a sad note strange to its owner.
For nearly fifteen minutes longer the two men continued to talk, but nothing more of interest to the two boys was said, and soon they went back toward the camp.
The boys waited till they were out of sight and then quickly made their descent to the ground retrieving their snow-shoes on the way down. If they had made good time coming, they nearly flew back so eager were they to impart the news to their father.
“Well, well, you certainly must have struck it thick,” Mr. Golden said, as they burst into the office, where he was talking to Tom, and threw the bags of gum on the table.
“And gum was not the only thing we struck either,” Jack declared as he threw his mittens on the table. And he told them what they had overheard.
“That is good news indeed,” Mr. Golden assured them when he had finished. “It may keep Ben from cutting on the tract, but after all it don’t help us much unless we can find the deed. Of course,” he hastened to add, as he saw a look of disappointment on Jack’s face, “we stand a good deal better chance of finding it now that we know that Ben hasn’t got it.”
“Sure we do,” Bob agreed. “As he said, someone must have picked it up, and, as it’s no good to him, he’ll probably try to sell it to you or to Ben if he learns what he’s up to. It looks to me as though the finder was just waiting to see what’s the best thing to do with it. If he was honest he’d have given it to you before this.”
“Yes, no doubt but that it has fallen into the hands of some dishonest person,” Mr. Golden agreed soberly.
A good road had been broken on the ice through from Greenville to North East Carry and it was decided that directly after dinner Bob and Jack would drive down with their father and bring the team back the next morning. They reached the village just as it was beginning to get dark and just in time for Mr. Golden to catch the train for home. The boys spent the night at the little hotel, and soon after daylight the next morning started back up the lake reaching the camp just in time for dinner.
“There’s a friend o’ yourn in the office,” Tom sang out as they drove in to the clearing.
“Who is it?” Bob asked.
“Sure an’ it’s Ezra, an’ he’s been after talking so much potry ter me thot I didn’t know whether I was agoin’ or acomin’,” and Tom laughed as he took the reins from Bob. “You go see what he wants an’ I’ll be after tindin ter the mare.”
Ezra Kimball kept the one store at North East Carry and was a character noted for miles around for his habit of talking in rhyme. It seemed to be not the slightest effort for him to find words to rhyme and at the same time express his meaning and it was seldom that he spoke in any other way.
Ezra was very fond of the two boys and they had known him as long as they could remember. He was sitting in front of the office stove as they pushed open the door.
“Well, well, so here ye are at last, beats all how slow the time has past,” was Ezra’s greeting as he got out of the chair and held out a hand to each.
“Mighty glad to see you, Ezra,” Bob replied heartily, while Jack declared that their visitor looked younger every time he saw him.
“No wonder, living in this Maine air, without a trouble and without a care,” and Ezra sat down again just as the dinner horn blew. He quickly got to his feet again sayin, “Thar she blows and it sure sounds good. Nothin’ I like better’n lots of food.”
“You’re a little bit shaky on that last rhyme I’m afraid,” Bob laughed as Ezra reached for his coon-skin cap. “Good and food may be spelled about the same, but they don’t hit it off worth a cent when it comes to the sound.”
Ezra did not deign to take any notice of the criticism. In fact he never attempted to defend any of his rhymes. “It’s good enough fer me and if the other feller don’t like it he kin lump it,” he once told some one who found fault with his language.
The boys well knew that it would be of no use to try to find out the object of Ezra’s call until after he had eaten his dinner, so they quickly led the way to the mess house. But as soon as they, together with Tom, were back in the office, Ezra lost no time in telling them.
“You boys know a little feller, with a hump back an’ face kinder yeller? Little squint eyes an’ big thick lips, an’ mighty big when it comes ter hips?”
“It’s Nip, sure as guns,” both boys declared in a single breath.
“Didn’t say his name, or from whar he came, but his tongue did wag cause he had a jag. He talked ’bout everything under the sun, till I thought at last he was almost done; when he said sumpin’ ’bout havin’ found a deed, then he bought a great big lot o’ feed; then he put on his snow-shoes an’ started off, shapin’ his corse almost due north.”
“When was it he was there?” Bob asked eagerly.
“’Twas yesterday he left the store, ’bout two o’clock or a little more.”
“Was that all he said about the deed,” Jack asked.
“Not another word did he say, though he jabbered there almost all day. Ye see I didn’t pay much ’tention ter anything he happened ter mention, but when Bill Smith came in ter feed, an’ said yer dad had lost a deed, I thought that mebby the one he’d got was perhaps the one yer dad wanted a lot.”
“Of course it was,” Jack declared, as he threw a stick of wood in the stove. “Don’t you think so, Bob and Tom?” and he looked from one to the other.
“It sure looks that way,” Bob replied, and Tom nodded assent. “But,” he continued slowly, “it seems rather funny that he didn’t try to make something out of it. It don’t seem like Nip to miss a chance like that.”
But further questioning caused Ezra to remember that the man had said something about wanting to get across the border as soon as he could and that the deed would have to wait.
“That’s it,” Jack almost shouted. “Nip had been up to some of his tricks and had to make tracks. That’s what’s the matter.”
“I believe you’re right at that, and the chances are that if he gets away with it, we’ll never see him or the deed again,” Bob said, adding after a moment’s thought: “I don’t know how much of a woodsman he is, nor how much he knows about the country up north; but, if he’s got a good supply of liquor, and he probably has, there’s no knowing what may happen to him. Jack, boy, we’ve got to go after him.”
“You said it,” Jack shouted, springing to his feet. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Don’t go off half cocked,” Bob cautioned laughing, as he too got up. “We’ve got to get things ready before we start on a trip of that kind. Don’t forget that it probably means sleeping out in the open for a number of nights. He’s got a day’s start of us and, although I don’t imagine he’ll travel very fast, it’s apt to take us several days to catch up with him.”
After some discussion it was decided that they would get everything ready and then drive back to the Carry with Ezra and spend the night there, getting an early start the next morning. Fortunately Tom had a number of sleeping bags at the camp and a toboggan about six feet long. On this they packed their food and other necessities, knowing that it would be easier to drag the load on the light toboggan than to carry it on their backs.
The stars were still shining brightly in the heavens when, the next morning, they waved goodbye to Ezra and turned their faces to the frozen North.
“Don’t get froze and don’t get lost, or all the gain’ll be less’n the cost,” was Ezra’s parting advice, and they assured him that they would be careful.
From North East Carry to the Canadian border is about fifty miles directly northwest, but at that point is the main road to Quebec and small towns are plentiful. Knowing this, the boys were not at all surprised to find that the man’s trail, which they picked up almost at once, led more to the north.
“Nip’s going to fight shy of the towns till he gets across,” Jack declared, pointing to the well-defined trail.
“Looks that way,” Bob agreed. “At any rate he won’t strike one the way he’s heading till he gets to the St. Lawrence River about a hundred miles north of here.”
The trail was plainly marked, the prints of snow-shoes showing clearly in the well packed snow.
They were hauling the toboggan tandem-wise and hardly were aware of its weight. It was splendid traveling, as there had been no snow for several days and their snow-shoes made but little impression. At eleven o’clock they had reached the upper end of the lake and decided to eat dinner before striking into the dense woods which lined the edge. They had made fast time but they well knew that from now on their progress would be much slower. Drawing a toboggan over the smooth surface of a lake is quite a different matter from pulling it through the thick forest where every foot of the way must be chosen with care. They decided to save time by eating a cold lunch, waiting until night for their cooked meal, and in less than twenty minutes they were on the trail once more.
While they were eating Bob had noticed for the first time that the sun was no longer bright, and as they entered the woods he called Jack’s attention to it.
“If I’m any good as a weather prophet we’re going to get some snow before night,” he said as he cast an anxious eye upward.
“What can’t be cured must be endured,” Jack quoted gaily, carefully picking his way between the massive trees.
Not only were the trees very close together, but the ground was uneven and it was, as Bob declared “all up hill and down dale.” But it was no new experience to them and they knew what to expect, so for two hours or more they pushed forward in good spirits.
“He’s heading a bit to the west of north,” Bob declared, as they stopped for a brief breathing spell. “I don’t understand it, as the farther he goes to the west the farther he’ll have to hike before he strikes the border.”
“I wonder if he knows enough to keep a straight course through the woods. A man’s got to know something about it to be able to do it, you know,” Jack declared, as he picked up the rope and started off again.
“That wind sounds like snow,” Bob asserted, as he fell in behind.
The wind, which for the last hour had been increasing in strength, was coming from the northeast, an almost certain forerunner of a storm at that time of year. So well protected were they by the thickness of the trees they hardly felt its force, but they were too wise to be deceived by that, as the sound, as it swept through the tops, told them that it was already blowing a fair sized gale. And now a few flakes began to sift lazily down through the thick branches.
“She’s a coming,” Bob shouted.
“Let her come. We got here first,” Jack laughed back over his shoulder.
The flakes steadily increased in number and the sighing of the treetops grew louder as they slowly pushed on toward the north, and by the time another hour had passed the trail had nearly vanished beneath the falling snow. Only here and there could they catch sight of the tracks.
“We’ll be all at sea as far as shoeprints are concerned in another half hour,” Jack declared, as he anxiously scanned the snow ahead.
He was correct in his statement, for in less than fifteen minutes the prints of the snow-shoes had disappeared entirely, and now the skill which they had acquired under the tutelage of their Indian friend Kernertok, was brought into play. A broken twig here, a bit of bark from a tree trunk there, and other signs, readable only by one trained in woodcraft, now had to serve as their only guide. Their progress, slow from the time they had left the lake, was now much slower, as they were often obliged to search for some time before finding the tell-tale clue.
“Hold on a minute, Jack,” Bob shouted a while later. “How long has it been since you saw any marks?”
Jack stopped and looked around.
“Well, it’s been quite a while,” he confessed. “But I’ve been expecting to catch sight of one any minute.”
“And I haven’t seen a thing since we saw where he had leaned up against that big pine and that must have been all of a quarter of a mile back. It’s going to begin to get dark in a mighty short time now and I think we’d better find a good place to camp before we go any farther. I think I can find the way back to that pine in the morning and we can probably pick up the trail again from there if we have any luck, but we’re going it blind now,” and Bob cast an anxious glance about him.
“All right, you’re the doctor,” Jack agreed as he threw the rope from his shoulders. “What’s the matter with right here?” he asked. “Those two saplings will be all right for the canvass and that big pine will make a pretty fair wind break.”
“As good as we’ll be apt to find, I guess, if we can only scare up some wood for the fire,” Bob agreed.
“All right then, I’ll do the digging if you’ll hustle the wood,” Jack proposed, and taking a shovel from the pack on the toboggan, he began work, while Bob started off with the ax to see what he could find in the way of fuel. Fortune favored him, for before he had taken fifty steps he came upon a dead pine which had blown over and was only partially covered by the snow. He at once set to work hacking off the brittle branches and throwing them in a pile to one side.
“Enough wood here to last a week,” he thought, as the pile grew larger with astonishing rapidity.
After a half hour’s hard work he judged that he had enough for the night and picking up as much as he could carry he started back. Meanwhile Jack had not been idle and by the time Bob returned with the wood he had nearly finished a trench directly in front of the big pine and extending between the two saplings. The trench was about four feet wide and nearly three times as long.
“Found some, did you?” Jack asked as Bob appeared.
“Sure. What did you think I went after? I see you’ve been pretty busy yourself and by the time you get the house done I’ll have plenty of wood here,” Bob declared as he started back for a second load.
He made several trips while Jack was completing his part, and when the latter finally stepped out of the trench a large pile of dead branches as well as a number of pieces of the trunk lay close by. The two small trees stood about six feet from the big pine, and to each of them they tied a corner of a large strip of canvass, about three feet from the surface of the snow. The other two corners they fastened to sticks driven well down in the snow close to the foot of the pine, so that about six feet of the trench was covered with a sloping canvass roof.
“Now let’s get the fire going and then for a good hot supper. That cold lunch didn’t even fill up the corners,” Jack declared.
In the uncovered end of the trench, which was nearly four feet deep, Bob started a small fire, while Jack undid the pack enough to get out the cooking utensils and the provisions. It was now nearly dark and the bright light from the crackling fire cast fantastic shadows as the boys moved about their work. In a surprisingly short time a meal of bacon and eggs, flapjacks and coffee was ready. Enough, as Bob laughingly declared, “to satisfy a dozen ordinary men.” But there is no better appetizer than strenuous exercise in the clear cold spruce-laden air of Northern Maine, and in spite of appearances he found that Jack had used excellent judgment in his estimation of the proper amount of food, for, as he declared, after they had finished, “not enough remained to feed a good-sized mosquito.”
After “doing the dishes” they brought in the rest of the wood which Bob had cut and then turned their attention to preparations for the night. Over the ground beneath the canvass roof they spread a thick layer of spruce boughs, covering them with a thick woolen blanket, making a bed, as Jack declared, “fit for any king.”
Then they pulled the toboggan close beneath another large pine a few feet away, where it would be protected as well as conditions would permit from the storm, and covered the pack with a second strip of canvass. Then, throwing an armful of the dead branches on the fire, they waited until the flames were shooting well above the snow walls of the trench before piling on the larger pieces of the trunk. These being of good size, would last for several hours, and if they should fail to awake in time to replenish the fire, they knew that the thick sleeping bags would be ample protection from the cold.
“She don’t seem to be letting up any,” Jack asserted as he listened to the wind now fairly howling through the tops of the trees.
“You said it,” Bob agreed, “and I’ll bet it’s snowing an inch every fifteen minutes. Must be close on to a foot already. If it keeps it up like this all night, we’ll have mighty hard going tomorrow let me tell you,” he added.
“So will Nip, and that’s one comfort,” Jack declared, as he threw another log on the fire.
By eight o’clock everything was “shipshape,” as Bob put it, and crawling into the sleeping bags they pulled a heavy army blanket over them and were soon lulled to sleep by the sighing of the wind as the lofty spruces and pines bent their tops to its strength.
It must have been well after midnight when suddenly Bob awoke. The fire was about burned out, only a glowing bed of embers remaining. For a moment he lay wondering what had disturbed him. The wind still blew with undiminished fury, but he knew that some other sound had reached his ears. He did not, however, have to wonder long, for suddenly through the dense forest, above the wailing of the wind, came a sound which sent a shudder through his frame, for once before he had heard that cry while on a hunting trip with his father in Canada.
“It’s a timber wolf,” he whispered to himself. “Never knew they came so far south as this, but it’s probably only a stray one,” he thought as he turned over and shut his eyes. But a moment later he was brought to a sitting position as an answering howl far off to the left answered the first.
“There’s two of them at any rate,” he said half aloud, as he gave Jack a shake.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Jack grunted sleepily, as he turned over and rubbed his eyes.
“Listen a minute and you’ll find out,” Bob replied, and even as he spoke another howl, this time nearer and more to the right, came to their ears.
“What is it?” Jack asked, as he sat up, now fully awake.
“It’s wolves and they’re coming our way,” Bob replied, as he began to crawl out of his bag. “We must get that fire going again. They’re afraid of a fire, thank goodness, but that’s about the only thing they are afraid of.”
It was the work of but a minute to heap more wood on the dying coals, and they were glad to find that there was still enough fire left to catch the new fuel. Soon the flames were shooting up once more, but now the howls were coming with increasing frequency and each one seemed nearer than the one before.
“There’s a good many more than one in that pack,” Bob declared as he jumped back into the trench, and picked up the 38 Winchester, which he had taken from the pack before going to bed.
“I should say so,” Jack agreed, as howl answered to howl above the roaring of the wind.
“The deep snow up north must have driven them south,” Bob declared as he listened to the short full-throated cry of the hunting timber wolves now so plainly heard through the wall of the falling snow that he strained his eyes, expecting every minute to catch sight of the leaping forms. Just then Jack spoke and the note of alarm in his voice caused Bob to turn his head quickly.
“My gracious, Bob, do you realize that we threw on the last of the wood?”
“That’s so, and there’s not enough to keep the fire going more than a half hour at most, and it’s all of six hours to daylight.
“Think we’d better climb a tree?”
“Not yet,” Bob replied after a moment’s thought. “That big pine’s pretty handy and we can get into it if we have to, but it’d be mighty cold up there. They won’t dare to come very near so long as the fire’s going in good shape, and if I can pick off two or three of them, perhaps they’ll clear out. Just hear them howl.”
“I see one,” Jack shouted a moment later, as a gray form bounded into view not more than twenty feet away.
His words were followed by the sharp crack of the rifle and the wolf leaped high in the air with a sharp yelp of pain and fell back. Almost instantly the deep throated howls changed to sharp yelps and snarls as the pack fought over the body of the dead wolf. Bob quickly fired three more shots at the writhing mass, which he could see but dimly through the falling snow. Whether or not any of the shots took effect he was unable to tell, as the incessant yelping made it impossible to distinguish any separate cry of pain.
For perhaps ten minutes the battle raged, then, almost as suddenly as it had started, it was ended, and the gray forms slunk back among the trees.
“Didn’t take ’em long to finish him,” Jack declared, as he gave the fire a poking causing it to blaze up afresh. “Think they’ve quit?”
“I doubt it,” Bob replied. “They’re pretty wise fellows and they’ve had a lesson; but if they’re very hungry, and I guess there’s no doubt about that, they won’t give up so easy. If we only had plenty of wood we’d be all right,” he added, giving the fire another poke.
But now the wood was nearly all consumed and the poking had but slight effect. The howls had ceased entirely and had it not been for the occasional glimpse of a shadowy form dimly seen in the darkness, they might have concluded that the wolves had given it up as a bad job.
“Guess they’re waiting for the fire to go out,” Jack suggested as he again tried to coax a blaze from the dying embers.
Bang! A shaggy form, more bold than the rest, had crept forward until he offered a fair shot, but he paid for his temerity with his life, and quickly furnished material for a second cannibalistic feast.
Fortunately he had plenty of cartridges and he again fired shot after shot into the fighting crowd. Some of the shots he knew must be hitting the mark and, after a short time, the wolves again withdrew into the shelter of the trees leaving, as they could see, three or four bodies lying in the snow.
“We’ve got ’em on the run now,” Jack shouted joyfully, but Bob was not so confident.
“I hope so,” he said, “but I don’t believe they have given it up yet.”
And in a few minutes his fears were realized as they saw, by the dim light, form after form creeping forward. The wolves were spread out nearly in a semi-circle.
“There must be fifty of them,” Jack declared just as Bob fired again.
His shot went true to the mark but this time the wolves paid no attention to their fallen companion.
“We’ve got to take to the tree, Jack,” Bob shouted. “You go first and I’ll hand the rifle to you.”
Fortunately the lowest branches of the big pine, at the foot of the trench, were near the ground and Jack, crawling out on the snow, had no trouble in reaching them.
“Get a hustle,” he called, reaching for the rifle which Bob was holding up to him.
At this moment the wolves, seeing their prey about to escape, plunged forward with mighty leaps through the snow, and were almost upon Bob as he reached for the limb. The leader, an enormous brute, lank with hunger, sprang from the snow and his dripping jaws closed on the boy’s leg. Fortunately his leggings were strong and thick and before the sharp teeth had time to penetrate to the flesh a shot rang out and the wolf fell back, shot through the heart. He almost dragged Bob with him so securely were his teeth fastened in the leggings. But exerting all his strength, he clung to the branch and kicked his leg free. A moment later he was safe in the tree.
“Good shot that,” he panted. “I thought for a minute that he had me.”
The wolves, as if realizing that their prey was beyond their reach, broke into a chorus of mournful howls as they slowly circled around beneath the tree.
“I hope they don’t smell our provisions,” Bob said, as he shifted to a more comfortable position.
The hope, however, was a vain one, for hardly had he uttered it when an excited yelp told them, only too plainly, that their stores were in danger. The toboggan, with its precious load, although only a short distance away, was invisible from their position, as a small pine intervened and they could only hope and pray that something would be left. Bob fired several shots in the direction of the snarls and yelps but, as far as they could tell, without effect. It was not long before the wolves were back beneath the tree and taking careful aim at a particularly large shaggy fellow, Bob fired. The wolf, with a yelp of pain, fell kicking in the snow and was almost instantly torn in pieces and devoured by his companions.
“A man may be down but never out, but when one of those fellows is down it don’t take him long to be out, does it?” Jack said as he watched the fragments of the wolf disappear down the hungry throats.
“Out is hardly the word,” Bob replied grimly. “I should say in was more to the point.”
Again he fired and again the performance was repeated. But now the wolves drew farther away. They were evidently learning the meaning of that sharp crack and however hungry were not anxious to be served up to their equally famished companions.
For some time Bob was unable to get another shot, but a wolf’s memory is short and in the course of a half hour they came creeping warily back. Bob waited until one was nearly beneath the tree before he fired, and then as the pack closed in for the feast, he poured shot after shot into them. At close range the carnage was too much even for the ravenous beasts and leaving several of their number kicking in the snow the rest turned and fled, making the forest ring with their howls of terror.
“I don’t believe they’ll come back again this time,” Bob said, as he filled the magazine with fresh cartridges.
And he was right, for gradually the howls grew fainter and soon nothing save the noise of the storm could be heard.
“I guess they’ve gone,” Jack declared, and Bob agreed with him.
“But we better wait awhile and make sure before we get down,” he said as he pulled a pair of thick mittens from the pocket of his mackinaw and drew them on his numbed hands.
So great had been the excitement that, until now, they had not noticed the cold, but now the wind seemed to penetrate to the very marrow of their bones.
“If we don’t get down pretty soon I’ll turn into a human icicle,” Jack declared after a half hour had passed.
“I guess it’ll be safe enough to risk it,” Bob replied, his teeth chattering so that he could hardly talk. “I don’t think they’ll come back again and if they do we can climb back.”
A glance at his watch, just as he crawled once more into his sleeping bag, told Bob that it was nearly four o’clock. How good the thick warm bags felt after the cold exposure of the tree. In less than five minutes he was, as he told Jack, “as warm as toast.” He resolved that he would not go to sleep, as he still feared the return of the wolves, but he said nothing of it to Jack, knowing that the generous boy would insist in keeping awake also. So he lay there on the spruce boughs listening to the storm. It took all his will power to keep his eyes from closing, but not once did he yield to the drowsiness. About five o’clock he noticed that the wind was dying down and that the snow had all but ceased falling. It seemed as though the next hour would never pass, but at last the hands of the watch pointed to six and very carefully, so as not to disturb his brother, he crept out of his bag. It was still very dark but he knew that daylight was near at hand and realizing the importance of getting an early start he tied on his snow-shoes and, ax in hand, started for the dead pine.