started. They had gone onward for mile after mile, and every step
had carried them farther and farther away from the places in the
neighborhood of which they wished to remain, and now, at this bewildered
halt, they were in reality far, very far, away from that river which
they had believed themselves to be approaching.
Some such conviction as this came to their minds now,--that is to say,
the conviction that they had wandered far away from the river,--but
they had no idea how far away from it they really were, and they
thought--that is to say, Bart and Pat thought--that their wanderings had
begun only at their last change of course, near the wooded swamp.
Thus far, the weather had been warm, but not so sultry as on the day
before. The air appeared to have become cooled by that gentle breeze
which had sprung up in the morning. The sky, however, had been overcast
as before, and all the view overhead was covered with those rolling
smoke clouds before mentioned. They noticed this now as they sat there,
and it seemed to them that the sky was more enveloped with this sombre
covering, and that the light was dimmer, and the scene more gloomy. The
birds also seemed to have all fled away from that smoky sky.
Their long tramp had sharpened their appetites, and they now began to
think of lunch. Fortunately, Solomon, with his usual forethought, had
saved the fish that had been left from their repast on the previous
day, and these, with some sandwiches, furnished out a meal. They
were without anything to drink, however; but a little search in the
neighborhood revealed a slender rill of very warm water, which, warm
as it was, they were glad to drink. On the whole, this frugal repast
refreshed them and invigorated them; and after its conclusion, they
began to consider once more the important question of the course which
they should take next.
What perplexed them most was the impossibility of knowing anything about
the direction in which they ought to go. The points of the compass were
all unknown. North, south, east, and west were all alike a mystery.
The smoke clouds that covered the whole sky made it impossible even to
conjecture, with any approach to accuracy, the possible position of the
sun.
Their situation was perplexing in the extreme. In fact, it was a double
perplexity. They did not know where Phil was, and they did not know
where they themselves were. They wanted to find Phil; but by reason of
their loss of all knowledge of locality, they were unable to form even
a theory of the particular direction in which it might be best to
renew their search after him. And this it was that made any discussion
particularly difficult.
Then, again, though they had a distinct remembrance of the river
itself, yet they had formed no definite idea about its course. Bart
thought it ran north. Pat thought it ran south. Why they thought so,
neither could give any reason. But this mattered nothing now. Even if
they had known most perfectly the actual course of the river,--nay,
even if they had been perfectly acquainted with the geography of the
district,--it would have availed them nothing whatever in their present
position, nor could they have been in any better position to decide
about the best direction which they could take.
“We ought to be moving,” said Bart; “but where? I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Well, thin,” said Pat, “I’ll tell you what it is. Let’s be off,
and thrust to luck. Let’s walk ahead anywheres, and we’ll come out
somewheres.”
“Can’t we tell something by the clouds?” asked Bart, looking up at the
rolling masses overhead.
“Deed an I’ve thought o’ that,” said Pat, “an I’ve been watchin thim;
but sorra one o’ me can make out any thin about thim same at all, at
all. They’re jist rowlin an tumblin every which way. An that same they
were doin this mornin; for I watched thim, an cudn’t make any thin out
o’ thim at all, at all, no more’n I can now at this blissed momint. An
they won’t be afther tellin you any more’n they towld me, I’ll go bail.”
“It seems to me,” said Bart, “that they are moving in some direction.
I remember noticing this morning that they moved, or seemed to move,
across the river. Now, if the river ran north--”
“South,” interrupted Pat.
“North,” persisted Bart. “If it ran north, why, these clouds must be
moving east.”
“West,” cried Pat.
“East,” persisted Bart. “If I’m certain of anything, I’m certain that
they must be going east.”
“Deed an I’m dead sure that they’re a goin west.
“An I’m as likely to be right as you are.”
“O, well,” said Bart, “we can’t come to any decision at all.”
“Surely no; not from thim clouds,” said Pat. “For afther all, I don’t
think they’re movin anywheres. They’re jist rowlin round and round.
Niver mind thim clouds.”
“But we must go somewhere,” said Bart, impatiently.
“Deed an so we must; an so I say.”
“Then where shall we go?”
“Jist wheriver you say. You laid ahead, an I’ll toiler till the
wurruld’s ind, so I will, an that’s all about it.”
Bart now rose, and so did the others; and after a little natural
hesitation, they all set out once more upon their journey.
This journey was thus resumed on the principle that it was better to be
moving than to sit idle. Something had to be done, but what it was they
did not know. Bart had formed some vague idea of his general direction
from the clouds, and was trying now to find his way back to the
neighborhood at least of the place from which they had set out. At any
rate, he thought he would thus be more likely to come upon Phil’s
track, for this was still the idea that was uppermost in his mind. The
direction in which that place lay seemed to him to be west; and so, with
this thought in his mind, he set out and led the way.
Of course, Bart’s idea about going west was of the vaguest possible
description. Bart’s west was Pat’s east; and each of them was equally
likely to be wrong. For it might have been either north or south; and
in addition to this, there was the fact of their circuitous march, which
set straight lines at defiance, and bore them along in a winding course,
that might lead to every point of the compass in turn. However, there
was actually no other course possible, and Bart and Pat were both
satisfied; for while Bart thought he was following the course which
seemed to him best, Pat thought that they were going in no particular
direction at all, but were wandering at random. Of the two, Pat was far
more in the right. As to Solomon, it was a matter of indifference to
him, so long as Bart led the way, and so long as the aim of their march
was a search after Phil.
They walked on now in silence for some hours. The woods were just the
same as they had been all along. Sometimes they came to a wide extent of
pine trees, where the walking was easy, and they were able to maintain
some definite direction. At other times they came to woods filled
with hard-wood trees, where the underbrush was thick and the obstacles
numerous. Here they were compelled to wind along in a circuitous way,
making numerous detours to avoid dense thickets or impassable bogs.
At length the evening drew on, and all of them were nearly worn out.
It had been a long and a difficult march. They had exerted themselves
severely all that day. Besides, it was not a time that was favorable to
severe exertion, for the warmth of the atmosphere affected them all. As
the evening approached the warmth increased, for the slight breeze that
had been prevailing all the day, and mitigating the sultriness of the
weather, now died out, and at once that same oppressiveness of which
they had been aware on the preceding day made itself manifest again.
Exertion became more and more painful. Their progress became more and
more laborious, and they walked with ever-increasing difficulty. At
length Bart stopped.
“I won’t go any farther,” said he. “This isn’t much of a place to pass
the night in, but I’ve been on the lookout for the last hour, and this
is as good as any that I’ve seen. We can’t do any more to-day. So I move
that we stop here and rest, and settle down for the night.”
To this the others agreed; and so, flinging down their baskets, they
began to make preparations for the night. The preparations were simple
enough, consisting in nothing more than a collection of moss and fern
leaves, which abounded all around, and of which they soon heaped up
a quantity sufficient for their wants. After this they sat down and
partook of an evening repast from their rapidly diminishing stock of
sandwiches.
“By the powers,” said Pat, “if we’re in the wuds much longer, we’ll have
to git howld of a stock of frish provisions, so we will.”
That night they all slept soundly, for they were worn out by their long
sleeplessness and by the fatigues of their weary march. In that march
they must have traversed many miles, for they had been walking from
very early morning till dusk, with only one intermission. Their sleep,
therefore, was deep and heavy, and it lasted until comparatively late in
the following day.
On awaking they found the air oppressively close and sultry. The smoke
clouds were nearer, and appeared to touch the tree-tops. There was also
an unpleasant smell of smoke which irritated their nostrils and dried up
their throats. One thing only was evident from this, and that was, that
the woods were on fire. It also seemed equally evident that they were
approaching the scene of conflagration. It was already very oppressive,
and how much longer they would be able to maintain their journey was
a matter of doubt. Yet there was no desire to give up. The one thought
present to all of them was, that Phil was lost; and the rolling smoke
clouds now suggested to their minds a danger impending over him of which
they had not thought before. Thus far Bart had been more or less subject
to fears about the Indian’s being concerned with Phil’s disappearance;
but now, as these natural terrors were revealed, his thoughts of the
Indian gave place to others of the most painful and harassing character.
For if Phil was really lost, it amounted to this--that he was wandering
about in a burning forest, far from all hope of human aid. They
themselves had suffered, and were suffering, enough to know well what
his state must be. The lively imagination of Bart portrayed before his
mind in vivid colors the situation of poor Phil, all alone, wandering
helpless and despairing, surrounded by smoke and flames, oppressed by
the heat, and sinking under the weight of his anxiety and fatigue. His
little store of provisions must soon fail--he would not dare to stop to
try to catch fish; he would hurry on as long as strength lasted, seeking
to escape from the advancing fires. At last all strength and all hope
would fail, and a terrific fate would seize upon him.
The others had something of the same feelings about Phil, although less
vividly, and were ready to keep up the search after him as long as they
could move. So they snatched a hasty breakfast, and at once prepared
for the day’s march. That breakfast exhausted the last of their stock
of provisions, and they could only hope to reach some brook where they
might catch a few fish. At that moment, however, their thoughts about
themselves were disregarded in their anxieties about Phil; and so they
set out full of eager desire to find him before it might be too late.
Thus far they had continued to shout at certain intervals, and the last
thing on the preceding night, and the first thing on this morning, had
been a series of loud calls. But the calls had never been answered, and
Phil seemed still to be as far away from them as when they first set
out. Still it was the only thing that they could do; and so, as they
went forward on this day, they kept up, as before, their practice of
calling at certain intervals of time.
They wandered on for hour after hour. The air continued close and
sultry, and the smoke was most unpleasantly perceptible; but this,
instead of deterring them, only nerved them to fresh efforts, since
it never ceased to suggest to them the thought of poor Phil’s terrible
situation. One thing consoled them; and that was, the discovery that the
sultriness and the smoke had grown no worse since they started, but if
anything had rather lessened. This they were glad of on Phil’s account;
as for themselves, however, it was certainly bad enough, and as the
hours passed, their efforts became more and more difficult, and their
labors more overpowering.
At last the woods in front of them grew thinner, and through the trees
they were able to see more and more of the sky. To emerge from the thick
woods into any open place whatever was a pleasant thought to all of
them. They wondered what it could be. Solomon thought that it was some
barren district bare of trees, and overgrown with low brush, such as
sometimes occurs in the forest. Pat thought it was a lake, or a river,
or a swamp, or something of that sort. Bart expected to find a clearing
in the woods, and his heart beat last with joy at the idea of finding
some human being who could tell them where they where. With these
various thoughts and feelings they hurried forward.
X.
_The Opening.--The Sea, the Sea, the open Sea.--The Priest.--The Promise
of Help.--Pat takes a Walk, and passes a mysterious Building.--He takes
a Swim.--Return of Pat.--A terrific Discovery.--Pat in a Panic.--The
Scene of Horror.--Smoke and Flame.--The Fire Glow by Night._
IT was late in the afternoon when they reached that opening in the
woods which had suddenly appeared. They had been fearfully exhausted;
they had also been almost famished, and were without any prospect of
either rest or food, when that opening appeared before them. But the
sight of it acted upon them like magic, and seemed to drive away both
hunger and weariness. Instantly their pace quickened from a languid,
laborious walk to a trot, and then to a run, as they hurried forward,
eager to learn what this place might be. Bart, with his hope of finding
a settlement with living human beings, from whom he might receive
information and assistance, was most excited, and was the first to
quicken his pace; and the sight of his excited eagerness affected his
companions with the same feelings. Thus they rushed forward, and in a
short time emerged from the woods.
An open field lay before them, in which stumps arose here and there. The
field rose with a slight ascent to an elevation which shut out the scene
beyond. It was not the “Barrens,” which Solomon had expected, nor yet
the lake or swamp which Pat had mentioned. Bart had been right. It was a
space cleared by the hand of man; but still the question remained,
what kind of a settlement was it, and of what extent. For a moment they
paused as they emerged from the wood, and then they all hurried rapidly
forward.
As they hurried forward the prospect opened more and more, until they
gained the eminence; and then what a scene lay before them!
There, full before them--there, to their speechless
amazement--lay--what? Could it be possible. Did their eyes deceive them.
No. It was a fact. Yet, how amazing!
The sea!
The wide and boundless sea!
Yes, there it was, beyond the possibility of doubt--the sea--the sea
itself--no river--no lake--but the sea, and nothing else.
Overhead the smoke clouds still rolled, as before, in vast voluminous
folds, curling, and turning, and rolling, and lowering down close to the
earth, giving to all nature a gloom that was peculiar, and not without
terror. But beyond this lay the sea; and it stretched far away to the
horizon, reaching along that horizon to the right and to the left as far
as the eye could wander. It was the sea, the sea itself; and they had
wandered far from the place from which they had set out, to reach such a
goal as this.
And what was the place?
It was a settlement on the sea-shore. Between them and that sea-shore
there extended cultivated fields, and numerous houses dotted the green
meadows, and groves, and out-houses, and barns. Farther away, and nearer
the sea, they noticed a long, low, white building, that looked like a
straggling farm-house, or rather two or three farmhouses joined in one.
Some people could be seen at the door, and a high fence surrounded it.
Between this building and the place where they were standing a road ran,
and along this road some cattle were passing. Beyond the building lay
a sheet of water that looked like a harbor, between which and the sea
extended a narrow spit of land; in several of the fields cattle were
grazing; and within stone’s throw they saw a rude farm-house, built of
logs, and whitewashed.
Pat was the first to break the silence into which they had been thrown
by the utter astonishment and bewilderment of this discovery.
“Sure an it’s dead beat I am, and dumb entirely,” he exclaimed. “Ony
to think of our coming out of the wuds to the say. Sure an it must be
Miramichi itself, so it must, an we’ve been a wandherin through the
wuds sthraight back to the place we dhruv out from wid de Injin. Och,
an, be the powers, but it’s a quaire wandherin that we’ve been havin.
Och, but I’ll nivir git over this.”
“It isn’t Miramichi,” said Bart, whom Pat’s wild remarks had roused
from the stupor into which his amazement had thrown him. “It isn’t
Miramichi,” he repeated; “for that’s a river, and here we have the open
sea itself. But where in the world we have got to, and how we’ve got
here, I confess I have no more idea than a stone.”
Bart’s surprise was certainly greater than that of either of his
companions, and very naturally too. For he had thought all along that
he was going west, and that his back was turned to the sea: but now he
found that his actual course had been the very opposite of what he had
supposed, and intended it to be. He had been trying to get to where Phil
was, but now discovered that he had been going away from him all the
time.
The discovery of the truth was amazing, bewildering, and at the same
time humiliating to one who had been officiating in the dignified part
of leader in this adventurous and eventful journey. But humiliating as
it was, there was the actual fact, and it only remained to find out the
name of the place where they had so strangely arrived.
In spite of his anxiety about Phil, and his mortification about his own
mistake, Bart was not altogether without a feeling of relief at this
sight that revealed itself, for he saw human habitations at any rate;
and he thought that he would now be able not only to find out where he
was, but also, perhaps, to get assistance, and thus resume, under more
favorable circumstances, the difficult task of exploring the woods in
search of Phil.
“Well,” said he, at length, “there’s no use standing here. We’re
somewhere, and the best thing we can now do is to find out where we
are. So come along. We’re in a place where we’ll be able to get food and
shelter, at any rate.”
Saying this, he started off for the nearest house, and in a short time
reached it. At first no one was visible; but on knocking at the door a
woman made her appearance.
“We’ve lost our way in the woods,” said Bart. “Can you tell me what
place this is?”
The woman stared at him for a moment, and then at Pat and Solomon. Then
she said,--
“This place? Why, don’t you know this place? This is Tracadie.”
“Tracadie!” repeated Bart. The name was familiar to him, for he had
often seen it on the map, and had often heard it mentioned. He knew it
as a small settlement on the shore of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, though
how in the world he could ever have wandered here still remained a
profound mystery.
Bart then informed her that one of his party had been lost in the woods,
and asked her if any boy had made his appearance, or had been heard of,
in the settlement. The woman shook her head. Upon this Bart asked her
if they could get any one in the place to help them go off in search of
their lost friend. The woman did not know, but advised them to see the
priest, and offered to take them to the priest’s house.
This house was not far away, and it did not take long to reach it.
It was a pretty little cottage surrounded by trees, situated a little
distance away from the road. Fortunately, the priest was at home. He was
a wiry little man, with a benevolent face and most engaging manners. The
moment he understood their errand, he insisted on giving them something
to eat and drink, and refused to hear anything more until they had all
satisfied their hunger.
Thus, then, they found themselves once more under a roof, after their
long and eventful wandering. This was the fourth day since their
departure from Miramichi. The first day they had driven for some twenty
miles or so, and had walked far enough to reach a point which must have
been nearly thirty miles from their starting-place. The second day they
had walked ten or twelve miles farther, to the little river, where they
had fished. The third day they had lost themselves, and had wandered
from early dawn till dusk. The fourth day they had walked since
daybreak, and had reached Tracadie towards evening. The last day had
been the most fatiguing of all; partly on account of the oppressiveness
of the atmosphere; partly because their provisions had given out, so
that they had to walk for an immense distance without any food; and
partly, also, because their hopes of finding Phil had died out, leaving
them in a state of deep depression.
On hearing their story, the priest showed the deepest sympathy, and
promised to do all that he could.
“You wish,” said he, “to go back to the woods again, and take a guide?”
“Yes, if we can find one.”
“Well, I think I know of one or two men who will be suitable; and if
they are at home, they will be able to start as soon as you wish.”
“How near do you think this fire is?” asked Bart, anxiously. “Is there
any likelihood that it is at all near?”
“I’m afraid there is,” said the priest.
“Are these woods often on fire?”
“Pretty often, in different places. These woods, in fact, are famous for
fires. You’ve heard of the Great Fire of Miramichi? I can tell you
all about that--but not now. These woods are a younger growth; the old
forest was all swept away.”
At the mention of this Great Fire, of which he had heard, Bart’s heart
sank within him. It was indeed a place of ill omen where poor Phil had
lost himself; and what chance could there be for him in the presence of
the merciless fire?
“I can’t make out the place where your friend was lost,” said the
priest; “but I dare say the men I’ll bring will be able to understand
where it is. They’ve been all through the woods in all directions,
and ought to know every stream and every rock in it. Big rocks are not
common here, and the one you speak of ought to be a very conspicuous
landmark. But I won’t delay now any longer. I’ll go off at once; and I
hope you’ll make yourselves comfortable till I return.”
The priest was a Frenchman; but he had lived here many years, and he
spoke English almost like a native. His eager offer of help and active
assistance greatly encouraged them, and they hoped for the best. Pat,
in particular, showed this feeling in the strongest manner. He had been
quite silent during the latter part of the walk, owing to fatigue and
hunger combined; but now the short rest had refreshed him, and the
repast had strengthened and cheered him. He accepted the promise of the
priest as almost a certain token of success, and at once regained all
his habitual confidence, and indulged in a long series of rattling,
joyous remarks as to Phil’s present condition, and the probable state of
his mind when they should find him.
At length he rose from his seat, and said he was going out to take a
walk. He asked Bart and Solomon to go with him; but both declined. In
spite of his long walk Pat could not sit still, but was restless and
fidgety, and wanted to be moving about, even though his legs were yet
aching from their long and arduous tramp. So, leaving Bart and Solomon,
he went out of the house and along the road. After a while he came to
another road, which led down to the water. It led to that irregular
whitewashed building which they had seen from the eminence as they first
emerged from the wood. Pat’s idea of the place was, that it was an inn;
and so he sauntered along with the intention of reaching the water and
having a swim.