Skipper Zeb and Toby sat up hurriedly, and without an instant's
hesitation Skipper Zeb slipped on his moccasins, reached for his rifle
and left the tent. A moment later there came the report of his rifle.
The boys awaited eagerly his return, and when presently he reentered the
tent it was to report:
"'Twere an old she wolf, but I misses she. 'Twere just one alone. I'm
thinkin' we may be findin' deer signs up the path. Wolves follow the
deer."
"Will the wolf come back? And is it dangerous?" asked Charley, the
terrifying echo of its howl still in his ears.
"We'll never see _she_ again," said Skipper Zeb, settling in his
sleeping bag to resume his interrupted rest. "That un won't be
dangerous, whatever. If she keeps goin' as smart as she started she'll
be over the height o' land by to-morrow night this time," and he
chuckled with the recollection of the frightened wolf's speed.
Farther and farther into the wilderness they went. It seemed to Charley
that they had left the whole world behind them, and that the forest and
barrens through which they trod had swallowed them up, and he wondered
if they would ever be able to find their way back to Black River tilt
and the boat. Had he been left alone he would not have known in which
direction to turn.
The silence was total. There was never a sound to break it at night, and
during the day none save the harsh voice of the Labrador jay, which came
begging for food whenever they boiled the kettle, and was so fearless it
would almost take crumbs from the hand; or the incessant dee-dee-dee of
the chickadee, a much pleasanter companion of the trail, Charley
thought, than the jay. Once, in the evening, they heard the honk of a
flock of wild geese passing south.
"They're a bit late," observed Skipper Zeb. "They'll be bidin' in a pond
a step to the west'ard from here, and feedin' in the marnin'. I gets
geese there sometimes, and I'm thinkin' I'll take a look at break o' day
and see if I can knock one or two of un over."
Accordingly, the following morning after they had eaten breakfast and
just as dawn was breaking, he left the boys, and a half hour later
returned with three fat geese.
"We'll cache un here," said he, "and when we comes back take un with us,
and you lads can take un home."
On Wednesday night they had the shelter of a tilt, which Skipper Zeb
called "Long Lake tilt," and on Friday evening they reached "Big Lake
tilt" and the end of the trail.
"Here we stops till Monday," Skipper Zeb announced. "'Twill give you
lads a chance to rest up."
"That's great! It's the longest and hardest hike I ever had," said
Charley. "I'll tell Dad about it when I get home, and he'll think I
could have stood the Newfoundland hike he wouldn't take me on. I'll bet
it wasn't half as hard as this one!"
"You'll be gettin' as strong as a young bear, lad, and as toughened up
as a wolvering before you leaves The Labrador," chuckled Skipper Zeb.
"Mother'll be scared when I tell her what I've done here," said Charley,
"but Dad will be proud of it. They never thought I could do _anything_
hard, and never let me do anything much. They'll know now what I can
do!"
"We never knows what we can do till we tries un," commented Skipper Zeb.
The following morning Skipper Zeb did not wake the boys, but left them
to sleep while he slipped away alone to set traps in the forest and
marshes along the lake shore. It was broad day when they awoke, and when
they had eaten Toby suggested:
"We'll be goin' out with my rifle and try shootin' at a mark."
"May I shoot?" asked Charley eagerly. "I never shot a gun in my life and
I'd like to learn!"
"'Tis easy," assured Toby. "I'll be showin' you how, and you'll be
learnin' quick."
Before they left the tilt Toby instructed Charley in how to fill the
magazine and how to manipulate the lever, impressing all the time upon
his pupil the necessity of caution, and telling tales of two or three of
his acquaintances who had been shot through the careless handling of
firearms.
When Charley had learned the rudiments of gun handling to Toby's
satisfaction, they went a little way down the lake shore, and selecting
a bank as a background, in order, Toby told Charley, that bullets that
missed the mark might not go crashing through the forest, but would be
buried in the earth, he fastened a small square of white birchbark upon
a spruce tree, to serve as a target, and retired with Charley to a
distance of about fifty yards from it.
"Now try a shot," Toby directed.
"How do you hold the rifle steady?" asked Charley who found the muzzle
wabbling woefully.
Toby, with much patience, illustrated the method of placing the feet,
the position in which to stand, how to hold the arm, and how to aim
properly.
"Now don't pull un with a jerk. Hold your breath and squeeze the trigger
hand together all at once, so she goes off almost without your knowin'
when she goes."
Charley proved himself an apt pupil, and after a few shots rarely missed
the target.
Skipper Zeb did not return to the tilt for dinner, and after the boys
had eaten Toby suggested that they stroll up the lake shore in the hope
that they might get a shot at some partridges.
"May I carry your rifle and try to shoot them if we see any?" asked
Charley eagerly.
"Aye," agreed Toby, "'twill be fine for you to try un, now you knows how
to shoot."
Charley took the rifle eagerly, and this time took the lead, as the
hunter. They had walked but a short distance when Toby whispered:
"Drop quick!"
"What is it?" whispered Charley, as both dropped to the ground and Toby
crawled up beside him.
"Deer!" whispered Toby. "See un! Right ahead!"
Then for the first time Charley saw a big caribou, nosing in the snow
and feeding leisurely.
"What'll I do?" asked Charley.
"'Tis a fine shot!" answered Toby. "Be wonderful careful o' your aim,
and shoot!"
Charley was all atremble as he brought the rifle to his shoulder for his
first shot at any game. In spite of all he could do, the muzzle of the
rifle would not behave, and before he was aware of it he pulled the
trigger, and the shot went wild.
"Try un again! Try un again before he runs!" plead Toby.
Charley fired again and then again, but with no better success, and the
caribou, now taking alarm, turned and disappeared into the forest.
"You misses that un," said Toby, not in the least perturbed, now that
the caribou had gone. "'Tis hard to hit un the first time you tries."
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" and Charley could scarce control his voice in
excitement and disappointment. "It was nearer than the target we shot
at! How _could_ I miss it?"
"You gets nervous the first time you tries, the way most folks does,"
soothed Toby. "Next time you'll get un."
It was Thursday evening of the following week when they again reached
the tilt at Black River and the boat. Both boys were tired but happy,
and Charley, who had shot his first partridge with Toby's rifle that
morning, told Skipper Zeb that he had had the best time he ever had in
all his life.
"That's the way to talk, lad! That's the way!" and Skipper Zeb slapped
him on the shoulder, his characteristic method of expressing approval.
"You has the makin's in you of a fine trapper and hunter. You fits
yourself to what you has to meet and to do, whether 'tis a bit hard or
whether 'tis easy. 'Twere a long way for young legs that's not used to
un. Bein' on the path settin' up traps is a wonderful sight different
from bein' snug and warm with a good bed o' nights at home. You lads
stands un like old hands at un."
"Thank you, Skipper," and Charley was proud, as was Toby, at the word of
praise. Every one likes to be praised for an act well done, or done to
the best of one's ability, and Skipper Zeb, who in a crude way was a
student of human nature, and carried a gentle, affectionate heart in his
bosom, never failed to speak a word of praise where it was deserved. He
knew that a kindly word of appreciation for a deed well done, often
proved an incentive to greater effort. A little flower handed to the
living is better than a wreath placed upon the casket of the dead.
Skipper Zeb gave his flowers of kindliness to those about him while they
lived and could enjoy them.
"Now, lads," said Skipper Zeb when they had finished their evening meal,
and he was puffing his pipe comfortably by the warm stove, "I has a line
o' traps to set up to the east'ard of the tilt that I weren't settin'
up before we goes in, and two days' work to do about here whatever.
We've been havin' a long spell o' fine weather like we mostly has before
winter sets in hard. The wind is shiftin', and before to-morrow night,
whatever, there'll be snow. Early in the marnin' I thinks you had better
start back with the boat, and be gettin' snug at Double Up Cove before
the snow comes."
"When'll you be gettin' home, Dad?" asked Toby.
"I'll be gettin' home the Saturday or Sunday before Christmas,
whatever," promised Skipper Zeb, "and I'll be stayin' for a fortnight
holiday when I comes."
"Won't you be home before then?" asked Charley in astonishment.
"No, I has to keep tendin' the traps once I sets un," explained Skipper
Zeb. "'Tis the only way to get fur."
"I should think you'd get dreadfully lonesome on the trail alone," said
Charley, "and we'll miss you."
"A busy man's not havin' time to get lonesome. 'Tis only idleness that
makes for lonesomeness."
The sky was heavily clouded the following morning, and a brisk
northeasterly breeze, cold and raw, was blowing. Toby and Charley bade
good-bye to Skipper Zeb, and hoisting the sail departed for Double Up
Cove.
"The breeze'll be helpin' you now," shouted Skipper Zeb from the shore.
"Make the most of un, and don't be takin' too much time to boil the
kettle at Swile Island!"
"Aye," shouted Toby, "we'll be makin' the most of un."
Charley watched Skipper Zeb standing on the shore and looking longingly
after them, and then turn back to his lonely work in the wilderness, and
he, himself, felt suddenly very lonely.
With unexpected suddenness the wind rose to half a gale before they had
spanned two-thirds of the distance to Swile Island. The boat shipped
several seas, and while Charley bailed the water out, all of Toby's
seamanship was required to keep her on her course, until at length, to
their great relief, a landing was made on the lee side of the island.
"I was sure we'd be wrecked again!" exclaimed Charley when he and Toby,
dripping wet, had hauled the prow of the boat upon the sloping rock of
the island shore.
"'Twere a bit rough," admitted Toby. "We'll have to bide here till the
wind goes down, and I'm thinkin' there'll be snow before we gets the
kettle boiled."
"And we haven't any tent!" exclaimed Charley in consternation.
"We'll be makin' a lean-to with the sail," suggested Toby. "We'll not
find un so bad. We'll make un before we boils the kettle."
The boat was unloaded, and under the lee of a big rock, where they were
protected from the wind also by a grove of spruce trees, Toby selected
two trees about seven feet apart, and five feet from the ground and
lashed a pole from tree to tree. He then cut several poles, and arranged
them evenly with one end resting upon the pole which he had lashed to
the tree and the other end sloping back to the ground. To make the
sloping poles secure and hold them in place, he laid another pole
between the trees, and on top of the sloping poles, lashing this also
firmly into place, and then placed a log over the ends of the poles on
the ground to hold them in position.
With Charley's assistance he now spread the boat sail over the poles,
and tied it into place. Then at each end of the lean-to be and Charley
placed a thick barricade of spruce brush. A floor of boughs finished and
made comfortable the shelter, and a fire built against a rock in front
of it, that the rock might serve as a reflector, soon made the lean-to
warm and snug.
There was no abatement of wind, and snow was falling thickly before they
had finished eating, and when they were through, Toby suggested:
"I'm thinkin' we'd better haul the boat up farther and turn she over."
"All right," agreed Charley, "let's do it now. It don't look as though
we'd get off the island to-day."
"Not till the wind stops, whatever," said Toby. "We may have to bide
here two or three days, _I'm_ thinkin'."
This was a new adventure. Charley rather enjoyed the prospect of it, and
Toby perhaps equally as well, and as they walked down to their landing
place they chatted merrily about what they would do, when all at once
both boys stopped and looked at each other aghast. The boat was not
there!
"She's gone!" exclaimed Toby. "The tide were risin' up and floatin' she
off!"
"What shall we do?" asked Charley in dismay. "We can't get off the
island without a boat!"
"'Tis a bad fix," confessed Toby. "They's no way o' gettin' off the
island without the boat. I'm not knowin' rightly what to do. 'Tis the
worst fix I _ever_ were in!"
The snow was now falling heavily, driven in thick, swirling clouds by
the gale. Everywhere they looked along the shore, in the vain hope that
the boat may have drifted in at some other point, and eagerly they
looked out into the drifting clouds of snow in the equally vain hope
that it might be seen floating near enough to the shore to be recovered
by some means. But nowhere was it to be seen, and the two boys,
depressed by a sense of helplessness to extricate themselves from the
small, isolated and nearly barren island that had so suddenly become
their prison, turned back to the partial protection of their improvised
shelter.
Disconsolate, they sat under the lean-to and talked over their dilemma
while the snow beyond the fire grew thicker, and the wind shrieked and
howled dismally through the trees.
"You thinks 'twere bad when the ship leaves you at Pinch-In Tickle,"
said Toby finally, "but we're gettin' in a wonderful sight worse fix!"
"Yes," agreed Charley dejectedly, "of all that's happened, this is the
worst fix of all."
"All we has to eat," continued Toby, "is half a loaf o' bread, a small
bit o' pork and enough tea for one or two days, besides the three geese
Dad were sendin' home to Mother."
"Perhaps we can get some game on the island?" suggested Charley.
"No," said Toby, "they's no game here. 'Tis too small an island."
"Is any one likely to come this way in a boat?" asked Charley hopefully.
"No," answered Toby discouragingly. "We're clost to the head o' the bay,
and nobody ever comes here except Dad. We're sure in a wonderful bad
fix, Charley."