A Cold sweat broke out upon Charley's body. His knees went limp. He felt
like one receiving the sentence of death. He was sure that he would
presently be torn to pieces by the savage beasts.
The wolves were getting the better of the fight. They were one less in
number than the dogs, but the dogs were hampered by their harness, and
they were not as free to spring aside and snap at their enemy as were
the wolves. Tucker and Traps, bleeding and mangled, were falling back
and trying to escape. The other dogs were fighting valiantly, but they
were fighting a losing fight, and Charley's untrained eyes could see
that there would soon be an end of it, with the wolves victors.
Toby had taken his rifle with him, and Charley was unarmed. There was no
chance for defence, and no escape. There was not a tree nearer than the
farther side of the marsh that he could climb, and long before he could
reach the woods the fight would be over and the wolves would be after
him.
His eyes, as he looked helplessly about, fell upon an ax tucked under
the lashings of the komatik. With nervous hands he drew it forth, and
held it ready to strike at the first attacking animal.
Sampson and a big gray wolf were facing each other, and each maneuvering
for an opening to snap at the other's throat. The wolf's back was toward
Charley, and not two paces away. With a sudden impulse he sprang forward
and brought the ax down upon the creature's head. It fell and lay still.
He had killed it with one blow.
The two wolves that were attacking Tucker and Traps, sensing a new and
more formidable enemy, turned upon Charley. Swinging his ax he held them
at bay, while they crouched, watching for an opening, their lips drawn
back from their ugly fangs, while with ferocious snaps and yelps they
voiced their defiance.
Then came the sharp report of a rifle, and one of the wolves fell. Then
another report, and the other crumpled by the side of its dead mate.
The remainder of the pack, suddenly aware of a new and unknown danger,
broke from the dogs and ran, with bullets from Toby's rifle raising
little spurts of snow around them until they disappeared over a spur of
the hill.
"I hears the fightin'," said Toby, "and I runs as fast as I can. I sees
you knock that un over with the ax. 'Twere wonderful plucky, Charley, to
fight un with an ax."
Charley sank, weak and trembling, upon the komatik.
"I--thought--they'd--kill--me," he said.
"'Twere lucky I hears un." Toby stooped and felt of the fur of one of
those he had shot. "They's prime, and we gets three of un, whatever.
They pays six dollars for wolf skins at the post, and we'll be gettin'
eighteen dollars for un. The dogs gets cut up some, but not so bad, and
they'll get over un."
Charley made no response. He was not interested in the character or
value of the fur. He was too close to the peril from which he had
escaped. He had been face to face with what he had believed to be
certain death. How could Toby treat the incident with so little concern,
and apparently with so little appreciation of the grave danger just
ended? He was giving first thought to the value of the pelts, as though
that mattered in the least.
Toby, on his part, did not in any degree deprecate the peril in which
Charley had been placed, but now that it was ended, why should he talk
about it or even think about it? This was a habit of his life, a life of
unremitting endeavour in a stern land with its own dangers and
adventures which Toby accepted as a matter of course and to be expected.
In his city streets Charley might dodge an automobile at a crossing and
escape with his life by a hair's breadth, but Charley would scarcely
give such an adventure a second thought. But to Toby such would have
been an adventure to think and talk about and to remember with a thrill.
To Toby now, the matter of chief importance was the fact that he and
Charley had earned the trade value of three wolf pelts, which was
eighteen dollars, and that was a good day's wages. The danger was at an
end and behind them, and no longer worth a thought; the reward was
before them, and Toby began immediately, as a habit of life, to enjoy it
in anticipation.
While life warmth was still in the carcasses, the boys turned their
attention to the removal of the pelts, after first securing the dogs and
repairing the broken bridle. As Charley worked his interest in his
trophy grew, and he was as proud of it as he had ever been of anything
in his life. He had killed a wolf at close quarters! It was an
achievement to be proud of, and what normal boy or man would not have
been proud of it?
This was the first pelt that Charley had ever secured by his own effort,
and when they reached home he insisted upon stretching it himself, with
a word or two of advice from Toby. Then, with a sheathknife, and with
much pride, he scraped it free from every particle of clinging flesh and
fat.
None of the dogs, as an examination disclosed, was seriously injured,
though Tucker and Traps had suffered severe lacerations from the wolf
fangs, and these two were relieved from team work for several days.
During the week following the adventure with the wolves, good fortune
smiled upon the young hunters. More martens were captured, increasing
the number of marten pelts to nine, and Toby shot an otter.
But the crowning event of the winter, and, Toby was sure, the big event
of his life, came two days after the fox traps had been removed from the
marsh to the barrens, when Toby found in one of them a silver fox. They
all declared, as did Long Tom Ham, who came over from Lucky Bight to see
the pelt, that it was the blackest, thickest and longest furred, and
glossiest silver fox they had ever seen.
"'Tis rare fine fur," said Mrs. Twig, shaking out the pelt and holding
it up to admire it when it was finally dry and Toby had removed it from
the board that it might be packed carefully and safely away in one of
the chests.
"Aye," boasted Toby, "'tis that. 'Twill be worth five hundred dollars at
the post, or four hundred _what_ever."
"Now we'll not have to skimp so with things," said Mrs. Twig happily.
"The silver'll get us a wonderful lot o' things we needs, and 'twill pay
the debt at the post."
"We has the marten skins, too," said Toby. "They's worth at the post
thirty dollars apiece, good martens like they. Skipper Tom Ham says that
be the price this year for good black martens, and all we has is black.
I'm thinkin' the otter'll be bringin' fifty dollars whatever. 'Tis a
wonderful fine skin o' fur."
"You and Charley were wonderful lucky gettin' fur," said Mrs. Twig in
praise.
In another ten days Skipper Zeb would come home from his trapping
grounds to bring the pelts he had captured, and to take back with him,
after a fortnight's rest, a fresh supply of provisions.
Skipper Zeb's mid-winter return was always an occasion for great
rejoicing, but this winter it would have an added flavour of joy. All of
them were keenly anxious that he see the silver fox pelt, and Toby
declared he could hardly wait to show it to him.
"'Twill be a rare treat for he, now," said Toby.
It was an event, indeed. Even Skipper Zeb had never in all his life
caught a silver fox. Toby and Charley were justly proud, too, of their
success in catching martens. Skipper Zeb had smiled indulgently when
Toby had told him that with Charley's help he would set some marten
traps, and Skipper Zeb's only remark had been, "'Twill be fine practice
for you lads," never expecting that they would get a pelt. Indeed,
Toby's previous winter's trapping had resulted in nothing but rabbits,
but that was due, Toby had complained, to the fact that his mother had
not permitted him to go so far alone into the forest. But this year he
was older, and with Charley's companionship she had made no restrictions
upon bounds.
"And there are the wolf skins," said Toby. "I wants Charley to take un
home with he when he goes next summer on the mail boat. Twere he that
fought for un, and they belongs to he."
"Aye, they belongs to Charley," agreed Mrs. Twig, "and half the martens
too. If 'tweren't for Charley bein' here to go along with you, you
couldn't have got un, with all the work you were havin' to do with the
wood, to make you bide home. If Charley were havin' a rifle when he
meets the wolves he'd have got more of un, and the dogs wouldn't have
got cut up so bad."
"I wish I had a rifle," Charley suggested eagerly. "I've got sixty
dollars my father gave me before I left him. Is there anywhere I could
buy one with that?"
"You'll be needin' that to pay your passage back home," Mrs. Twig
counseled. "You needs some warm underclothes, and I'm thinkin' now you
and Toby might take the dogs and komatik and go to Skipper Cy Blink's
tradin' store at Deer Harbour, and take three of the marten skins and
trade un in for a rifle and what you needs, and Toby can get some things
we're needin' in the house."
"Oh, I wish we could!" Charley exclaimed. "But the skins aren't really
mine," he added more soberly. "I owe you a lot for keeping me here, and
for all you've done for me, but Dad will pay you for that when I get
home."
"You owes us nothing," declared Mrs. Twig, a little out of patience that
Charley should have suggested it. "You pays for all you gets in work,
and half the skins be yours, whatever."
"Thank you," said Charley gratefully, "but I can't help feeling that
you're doing a lot more for me than I deserve, and I'm sure a good deal
more than I've earned."
"You earns all of un, and more than you gets," insisted Mrs. Twig
kindly. "'Tis wonderful fine to have you here with Toby, and we're
gettin' to think so much you belongs to us 'twill be a rare hard thing
to see you go. You lads better be startin' for Deer Harbour in the
marnin'. You'll be reachin' Pinch-In Tickle by noon, whatever, with the
fine footin' for the dogs, and Deer Harbour by night. Comin' back the
next day you can bide the night at Pinch-In Tickle, and fetch back the
fishin' gear that needs mendin', so 'twill be here to work on when
they's time to work on un."
Charley and Toby were as excited as they could be, and that evening all
arrangements were made for an early start in the morning. It was to be
Charley's first long dog journey, and that night he lay awake a long
time thinking of the wonderful journey he was to have, and of the new
rifle he was to buy.
FOOTNOTE: [6] Sledge.