ON THE PORCUPINE RIVER.
We must now pass over an interval of several weeks. During this period
our readers are to imagine the numerous rapids and perils of the Upper
Yukon conquered and the permanent camp of the silver fox hunters
established upon the swift Porcupine River, not far above its junction
with the Yukon and amidst a country wilder than any into which the
Bungalow Boys had yet penetrated.
The work of setting out the peculiarly constructed traps in which the
silver and black foxes were to be trapped had occupied much time, and
some exciting adventures with bears and wolves had accompanied the
work. When completed, the "trap-line" extended for more than
twenty-five miles from the camp, which was pitched on the bank of the
river to which the _Yukon Rover_ was tied.
Did space permit we should like to tell in detail, and may at some
future time, the numerous exciting episodes that marked those weeks of
our young friends' lives. But we must now hasten on to an event which
was to try their resources as they had rarely been tested before, and
which was peculiarly characteristic of the life in that wild region
"north of fifty-three" which they were exploring.
It is first necessary to explain that the work of overseeing the
trap-line was attended to every week, the work being divided into
"shifts," one of the party, or more, being left to guard the camp
during the absence of the others. At the particular time we are now
dealing with Mr. Dacre was disabled with a slight fever, and Sandy,
also, was a "little under the weather" from the same cause. So that it
devolved upon Tom and Jack to assume the task of going over the
trap-line, a duty which had to be performed, while Mr. Chillingworth
remained behind with the invalids.
And right here it is proper to explain that although the traps had
been set and baited, the trappers did not expect any results till
later in the season when the "big cold" set in. Nevertheless, in order
to guard against the possibility of vicious or unprincipled trappers
or "dog Indians" interfering with them, a rigid patrol was necessary
to insure the well being of the trap-line. The actual trapping was
destined to come later when the wastes of forest to the north were
frozen and the creatures of the wild came toward the river in search
of food.
Well used to roughing it as the boys were, they carried little more
with them on these expeditions than flour, "erbwurst,"--a sort of
concentrated soup, not very palatable, but nourishing,--teas, salt and
sugar. Their rifles, blankets and canteens completed their loads, with
ammunition, of course, sufficient to enable them to "live on the
country."
The trap-line led back into a wild range of mountains known as the
Frying Pan Range, though just why that name had been given to the
section is beyond the present chronicler to explain.
On the particular morning with which we are dealing, we find Tom and
Jack almost at the end of the trap-line. Not much to their surprise,
their investigation of the fifty or more traps scattered through this
territory had not resulted in their discovering any silver foxes
ensnared. Other wild creatures, though, had been entrapped, but they
were not bothering with these. In every instance, if they were not
maimed, the creatures were set loose, with one exception. That was the
ugly "glutton" or wolverine, a notorious robber of trappers' and
miners' camps, and a savage, truculent animal. When such creatures
were found, they were despatched without mercy.
Tom, the first to open his eyes that morning, gave a glance of
astonishment as he gazed about him from his blankets. On every side of
them was a fleecy blanket of fog as thick and blinding as that which
had encompassed them at Kadiak. He awakened Jack and the two looked
about them rather anxiously. In pursuit of a deer, the carcass of
which hung in a neighboring tree, high up so as to be beyond the reach
of wild animals, the boys had, the evening before, wandered rather far
from their beaten track.
They had, in fact, been overtaken by night in a part of the mountains
which was entirely strange to them. But they felt no apprehensions on
that score. They, of course, carried, like all wilderness travelers, a
good compass and had the accurate bearings of their camp. The
trap-line itself was marked by a blazed trail, so that once upon it
their course was as plainly recognized as if they had been on a public
highway.
After breakfast, consisting of deer-meat steaks, which when freshly
killed are by no means as good as asserted, flap-jacks and tea, well
sugared, the two young trappers took earnest counsel as to the best
course to pursue.
The fog enwrapped them closely in billowy folds of white. On the
mountain top on which they had halted, the mist was peculiarly dense
and heavy.
"Well, Jack," said Tom, "we're in cloudland, all right. Are you in
favor of waiting till the clouds roll by or striking out for camp?"
Jack at once declared for the latter course. Mr. Dacre's illness and
Sandy's indisposition had not a little to do with Tom's falling in
with this plan. He was anxious not to remain away longer than
necessary for, as he knew, the river fevers sometimes resulted quite
seriously.
Accordingly, the blankets were rolled up, some meat cut from the deer,
canteens filled at a nearby spring, and the march back to the river
begun. The fog still hung heavy and dense, and the boys strode along
through the steamy vapor talking little, but saving their wind and
their strength for the rough stony ground they were traveling over.
About noon the mist lifted and rolled away like a drop-curtain in a
theater. And it was then that the boys made a disquieting discovery.
The general scenery adjacent to the trapping line was familiar to
them. But the spot which they now had reached held nothing that struck
a reminiscent note.
Instead of being surrounded by noble forests of huge, somber trees,
they were in a place that resembled more the scenery found in the "Bad
Lands" than anything else the boys could call to mind. Grotesque piles
of rocky hills, pinnacled like cathedrals and minsters, with here and
there the semblance of some strangely formed animal, surrounded them
on every side.
Towering columns and immense, fantastically-shaped masses of clay,
suggesting pre-historic monsters of the pre-glacial period, rocky
cliffs resembling enchanted castles,--these were only a few of the
remarkable features of the section of the country into which they had
strayed.
They looked about them with awe. The strata of the various weird
formations were brilliantly tinted with blue, red, white, yellow and
other colors mingled and mixed like the hues of a kaleidoscope. The
utter barrenness of the place suggested a city of the dead, untrodden
by man or beast for centuries.
"Where under the sun have we wandered?" asked Jack in an awed tone,
gazing about with wonderment not untinged with alarm.
"I've not the slightest idea. We've never even seen a suggestion of
such country on our hunting excursions off the trapping line. We must
have strayed far off our course."
"But the compass?"
"I followed what should have been our direction," declared Tom. "I
cannot understand this at all."
"Nor can I. Let's have a look at that compass."
Tom fished it out of his pocket and extended it. He glanced at the
dial and then uttered a cry of astonishment. The needle was dipping
and plunging and behaving in a very odd manner.
"Gracious, what's the matter with the thing? Is it bewitched?" gasped
Jack.
"It is certainly behaving in a very mysterious fashion. Something must
have deflected it and led us out of our way."
"What could have done this?"
"I don't know, unless--hullo!"
Tom stooped and picked up a bit of stone which glittered with bright,
shining particles.
"Iron pyrites!" he exclaimed. "I remember the professor back at school
showing some to the geology class. No wonder the needle was
deflected! Look, Jack, those cliffs yonder are almost solid masses of
pyrites!"
"And those deposits of iron switched the needle of the compass?"
"Beyond a doubt."
"Then we are lost."
"I don't like to say that."
"But we are far out of our way?"
"No question of it."
"How far?"
"I have no idea. It's a nasty predicament, Jack, but we'll get out of
it, don't worry."
"But you haven't any idea in which direction to go?"
"No; we must scout around and try to get our bearings. I would suggest
that we strike out for that high hill yonder that will place a ridge
between us and the pyrites cliffs, and perhaps the compass will behave
normally."
They struck off in the direction that Tom indicated. But it was hard
traveling in that broken, uncanny country into which they had
wandered in such a strange manner. The hill, too, was further than
they thought, the clear air being deceptive. But dripping with
perspiration and not a little anxious at heart, they gained it at
last.
As Tom placed his hand in his pocket to draw out the compass, he
almost let the instrument drop to the ground.
A sudden sound had broken the stillness of the place. It was a sound
that ordinarily would have caused confidence in the hearers. But heard
under the circumstances in which it was, it was so unexpected, so out
of keeping with the wild surroundings, that it startled and shocked
them both.
It was the sound of laughter.