ALEC HINTS AT DARK THINGS
Hal was willing to swear that he had not been asleep more than ten
minutes when he was awakened by the beating of a pan with a stick and
Pat's roar of "Breakfast! All hands out for breakfast!" He rolled over
sleepily so as to look out. Pat was laughing at him. Beyond the
firelight and from the tiny strip of sky above the dark tree tops he
could see a few pale stars blinking at him weakly.
"Aw, Pat, that's no joke. You may think it's funny, but it isn't," he
growled, and there was a note of real anger this time.
"What?" demanded Pat with a deep throaty chuckle.
"You know what--waking a feller up when he's just got to sleep and is
dead tired and got a hard day coming!" flared Hal.
"Aisy, aisy, son! Do ye think I would be frying bacon in the middle of
the night for a joke? 'Tis meself has been up this good hour and 'tis
six o'clock this very minute. 'Twill be daylight by the toime we be
ready to start," returned Pat good-humoredly.
Hal had it on the tip of his tongue to say that he didn't believe it,
but by this time he was sufficiently awake to smell the bacon and hear
it sizzle and sputter in the pan. Moreover, his companions were already
kicking off their blankets, and he had the good sense to realize that
Pat meant just what he said. Still, it was hard to believe, and it was
not until he had reached for his watch that he was convinced that it
really was time to prepare for another day's tramp. Then he hastily
crawled from his blankets, his good humor fully restored, for Hal was a
good sport, and there was nothing of the shirk about him.
"I beg pardon, Pat," said he, as he joined the two shivering figures
crowding as close to the fire as they could comfortably get while they
watched Pat stir up the pancake batter. "I honestly thought you were up
to one of your old tricks and putting something across on us. Doesn't
seem as if I'd more than closed my eyes. Phew! but it's cold!"
It was. It was the hour just before the break of day when, perhaps
because the blood has not yet begun to circulate freely, the cold seems
to have reached its maximum of strength. Beyond the narrow radius of the
glow from the fire it seemed to fairly bite to the bone.
"Get busy with the axe and you'll forget it," advised Pat, adding, "It
is the courtesy of the woods to leave a little wood ready for the next
fellow who may hit camp late, as we did yesterday. You'll have just
about time enough to get warmed up before these flapjacks are ready."
"Good idea!" cried Walter, seizing an axe. "Come on, you fellows!
Sparrer can lug it in as we split it."
At the end of ten minutes Pat called them to eat, and by that time they
had forgotten the cold, for they were in a warm glow from exercise.
"I'll bet it was cold in the night," said Upton as they sat down to
bacon, flapjacks and hot chocolate.
"Right you are, my boy," replied Pat. "When I got up the second time it
was cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey."
"When you got up the second time! What in the dickens were you up for?"
exclaimed Hal.
"To kape yez from freezing to death," grinned Pat. "Did yez think the
fire would feed itself?"
"I didn't think anything about it," confessed Hal. "Gee, it must have
been cold when you crawled out to start things this morning! Makes me
shiver to think of it. I guess the rest of us are the lucky little boys
to have everything started for us and a ripping good fire going before
we turned out. Do you always get up before daylight in the woods, Pat?"
"Sure," replied Pat. "It's nothing when you're used to it. Most trappers
are on the trail by break of day. The days are all too short in winter,
anyway, especially when you've got a long trap line to work over. I
expect Alec is on the line now. He'll be trying to get through early
to-day so as to have things ready for us when we reach the cabin. It's
going to be a stiff pull to-day for you fellows, and the sooner we get
started the better."
As soon as breakfast was finished the toboggan was packed, the brush
piled once more in front of the lean-to and the fire put out by the
simple process of throwing snow on it. The cold light of the stars had
given way to the colder gray of the dawn as they once more slipped on
the shoes and hit the trail around Little Goose Pond. It was then that
the three novices realized that they were indeed tenderfeet. They had
not gone half a mile before it seemed as if every muscle from their
thighs down was making individual and vigorous protest. But they were
game, and if Pat guessed their feelings it was not from any word which
they let drop.
Gradually the stiffness wore off, and at the end of a couple of hours
they were traveling with some degree of comfort. Pat purposely set an
easy pace for the first few miles and he kept a watchful eye on Sparrer,
for whom he felt personally responsible. As a matter of fact the
youngster was standing it even better than the other two. For one thing,
he was considerably lighter, and his shoes bore him up better than was
the case with his companions. In places where the snow was packed he did
not sink in at all, whereas the others broke through slightly, and on
soft snow he did not begin to sink as far as they did. Of course this
meant far less strain on his muscles, and greater ease in walking.
As they rounded the end of the pond Pat pointed out the place where he
had been mistaken for a deer by two city boys and got a bullet through
his hat. A little beyond this point they saw the first sign of life
since they had entered the woods, the tracks of a hare or snow-shoe
rabbit, and with them other tracks which at first glance all but Pat
mistook for those of another rabbit.
"You fellows wait here a minute," said he and followed the trail into a
thicket of young hemlocks. A few minutes later he called to them to join
him. They found him at the farther side of the thicket. At his feet the
snow had been considerably disturbed, and there were some blood-stains
and torn scraps of white fur. Beyond a single trail led to the foot of a
tree and there ended.
"Marten," explained Pat briefly in response to the looks of inquiry.
"He ran Mr. Longlegs down here, ate his dinner and took to the trees.
I've had a hunch that there were marten in this neck of woods, but
haven't had a chance to trap them yet."
Later they put up a flock of spruce grouse, but it was out of season and
the boys had too much respect for the spirit as well as the letter of
the law to be even tempted to shoot. After the noon lunch Pat quickened
the pace somewhat. The temperature had moderated rapidly and the sky was
overcast. "It's a weather breeder, and we're in for more snow," said Pat
as he scanned the sky with some appearance of anxiety. "I don't like the
looks of it. We want to reach the cabin before the storm breaks, and
we've got to hit it up faster in order to do it. How are your legs?"
"Still doing business," replied Hal. "The stiffness is out, but I guess
I won't object to reaching that little old cabin. How about you, Walt?"
"Same here," replied Upton. "I'm game for the rest of the distance, but
the cabin will look good to me, all right, all right. Hope Alec will
have dinner ready. I've no sooner eaten than I'm hungry again."
"My tummy, oh, my tummy!"
began Hal, but Pat cut him short with the order to fall in, and started
off at a pace which left Hal no breath to waste on doggerel. They now
buckled down to the trail in earnest. Pat's fears proved well grounded,
for they were still some three miles from the cabin when the first
needle-like particles began to hiss through trees and sting their faces.
By the time they entered the pass to Smugglers' Hollow the tracks of Big
Jim had been entirely obliterated and Pat was holding the trail by the
blazed trees, a feat by no means easy because of the difficulty of
looking ahead in the face of the storm.
In the narrow pass they stopped for a few minutes for a breathing spell.
There the force of the storm was broken, but when they emerged into the
Hollow they found that they must force their way into the very teeth of
it. The wind had risen, and it drove the fine icy particles with a force
that almost cut the exposed skin. The blinding cloud swirled about them
and completely hid their surroundings. Pat, in the lead, partly broke
the force of the storm for those behind. It seemed to them as if he must
be going by blind instinct, but if he was he had a dogged confidence
that was at least reassuring. At last when it seemed to the three city
lads that they simply could not push on another foot Pat stopped and
raised a warning hand. "Listen!" said he.
With straining ears they listened, but for a couple of minutes heard
nothing. Then seemingly out of the heart of the storm there came a faint
"Hello-o!"
"Alec," said Pat briefly. "He's getting worried."
Together they gave an answering shout, but the wind seemed to snatch the
sound from their lips and whirl it behind them. "No use," said Pat.
"Wind's the wrong way, and we better save our breath. We'll need it. It
isn't far now, and he'll keep yelling to guide us."
Once more they buckled down to the task in hand. The few minutes'
respite had eased the weary muscles, and the sound of Alec's voice was
wonderfully stimulating. Fifteen minutes later, panting and gasping,
powdered with snow from head to feet, they stumbled up to the cabin just
as Alec Smith threw open the door to renew his signals. For a second he
stared, then a look of intense relief swept across his rugged features.
[Illustration: ONCE MORE THEY BUCKLED DOWN TO THE TASK]
"Glory be!" he cried, springing forward and unceremoniously shoving the
exhausted boys into the cabin. "I was feared that ye would be having to
spend the night in a snowdrift. Did ye no hear me shouting?"
Pat nodded as he sank on to a stool, panting for breath. "We heard you
all right, Alec, but we couldn't make you hear us because the wind was
the wrong way. Besides, we didn't have any breath to spare."
But Alec wasn't listening. He was delightedly shaking hands with Walter
and Hal and helping them to strip off their mackinaws, not forgetting
Sparrer, whose presence was a surprise, Pat having sent no warning of
this addition to the party.
"My, but ye be a sight for sore eyes!" he declared as he bustled about
preparing hot chocolate and in other ways striving to make his guests
comfortable. "Saving Big Jim, who spent one night here, I haven't laid
eyes on a living soul since Pat left, and that was three weeks gone,
though I mistrust that there be others no so very far away."
Pat looked up quickly. "What's that?" he demanded sharply.
Alec's face clouded. "I've seen signs which I dinna like. I'll be
telling ye more aboot it after dinner," said he briefly.
"And the catch since I've been away?" asked Pat.
"Is no what it should be. There's na doot aboot that; it's no what it
should be." The face of the young Scotchman darkened still more. Pat
flashed him a look of understanding. "We'll talk that over by and by,"
said he. "Just now we're half famished. My, but that stew smells good.
I'll unpack while you are getting the stuff ready. With that toboggan in
here there isn't room to turn around."
The toboggan had been dragged in when they first arrived and it occupied
most of the available room. Walter helped him unload, piling the stuff
on one of the bunks for the time being. Presently Alec called for their
eating outfit, confessing that his establishment didn't possess dishes
enough for so many. At length he announced dinner ready and bade the
four draw up to the little rough deal table spread with a piece of white
oilcloth. For seats there were two five-foot benches made by splitting a
log, smoothing the flat sides and inserting four stout birch legs in the
convex side of each. These were drawn up on either side of the table,
and at one end Alec drew up an empty box for his seat.
Alec had, as Walter expressed it, laid himself out on that dinner. There
was venison stew with dumplings, and a rich thick gravy. There were
baking-powder biscuits as light as feathers. There were baked potatoes
and canned string beans. And last but not least there was a great brown
loaf of hot gingerbread.
"How's your tummy now?" asked Walter as Hal at last was forced to refuse
a third helping of stew.
"It's too small," Hal complained. "I want more. I want a lot more, and I
can't eat another mouthful."
Pat insisted on helping Alec do up the dishes and flatly refused to
allow any one else take a hand, so the others spent the time in stowing
away their duffle and inspecting the interior of the cabin. To Sparrer
it was, of course, all new and strange. As for that, it was hardly less
so to Harrison and Upton. When they had last seen it it had been
windowless, doorless and the roof at the rear had been but temporarily
patched. Now there was a stout door. Four small windows had been fitted
into the openings left for this purpose. The temporary repairs which Pat
had made on the roof at the rear end had been replaced with a permanent
roof. In fact, the whole roof had been put in first class shape. The
side walls had been repacked with moss between the logs, the four side
bunks repaired and a new one built at the back, and all filled with
freshly cut balsam. The floor had been repaired. So also had the
fireplace and chimney. A small cupboard and shelves had been added. On
the floor were two big deerskins.
But the thing which caught and held the attention of the boys most was a
big bearskin which had been thrown on one of the upper bunks.
"When and where did you get him?" asked Upton eagerly.
"Shot him within less than half a mile of the cabin just before real
cold weather set in," replied Alec. "He was just gettin' ready to den up
for the winter. I misdoot he was the same one that give that young
feller you called Sister the scare the day he was alone here last fall.
Tracked him in a light snow and was lucky enough to see him first.
Regular old he feller, and he sure took some killing. First shot got him
right back of the shoulder and made him squall a plenty, but it didna
stop him. Knew by that that I had hit him and hit him hard, but the way
he beat it you never'd have guessed he was hurt at all. When I see the
blood on the trail I kenned he was hard hit and would no travel far if
left alone, so I sat down and smoked a pipe. Then I took up the trail
and sure enough he had laid down behind a windfall about a quarter of a
mile from where I first see him. The old fox heard me coming and sneaked
away again, but he was getting weak and didna go far before he laid down
again. This time I got another shot and broke his backbone, but at that
it took two more shots to finish him. You ain't never killed a bar till
he's dead. What do you think that feller Ely will say when he gits that
skin?"
"Spud? Is that for Spud? Do you mean to say that you are going to send
that skin to Spud Ely?" cried Walter.
Alec nodded. "I promised him a barskin when he left, and I reckon that
that's hisn. Hope he'll like it."
"Like it! Alec, he'll be tickled silly. He wrote me that you had
promised him one," cried Walter. "It's perfectly bully! Good old Spud! I
wish he could be here with us now to make a little sunshine. Not that we
need it," he hastened to add, "but he sure would enjoy this. I bet he's
green with envy if he knows that we fellows are up here now."
"He knows, all right," Hal broke in. "Wrote him when I first thought of
this trip, but he couldn't get away."
"I wanted to get that skin to him for Christmas, but didn't have a
chance to pack it out," explained Alec. "Guess I'll send it out when you
fellers go. A little old barskin don't begin to pay what I owe that
boy. If it hadn't been for him I'd probably died up there in that
hide-out where he found me. And if it hadn't been for the little doctor
here I'd likely have died anyway. Anyhow I'd have lost my leg. There's a
barskin coming to you too, some day."
Walter flushed. It made him uncomfortable to be called the little
doctor, as Alec persisted in calling him, yet at the same time he was
conscious of a warm glow of pride which he tried hard to stifle. "Pooh,
Alec, that was no more than any of the other fellows would have done if
I hadn't been here. You know all Scouts know what to do for first aid to
the injured," said he.
"Just the same I don't believe there was one of us would have had the
nerve to tackle that broken leg of Alec's. I wouldn't for one," declared
Hal.
To relieve Walter's embarrassment Pat abruptly changed the subject.
"What was that you hinted at when we first got here about signs of some
one else in these diggings?" he asked, turning to Alec.
The Scotchman's face darkened. He threw a couple of big logs on the fire
and then as the others made themselves comfortable he told his story
briefly. For the last two weeks there had been little fur in the traps,
especially on the forty mile line to the north. He had made the round of
this line twice in this time with only one marten, a fox and a few rats
to show for it, but he had found signs which led him to believe that
some of the traps had been robbed. He was morally certain that some one
had been systematically making the rounds of the traps, timing the
visits so that there would be no danger of running into him and so
cunningly following his trail that it was only by the closest study of
the tracks that he had made sure that a stranger had been on the line.
At one unsprung marten trap he had found a couple of drops of blood
which indicated that there had been something in the trap. At another
there had been the faint imprint of the body of an animal laid in the
snow off at one side. In one trap he had found the foot of a muskrat,
nothing unusual in itself, but it had been cut off with a knife and not
twisted or gnawed off.
These things he had discovered on his trip two weeks ago, and on his
return trip he had thrust tiny twigs into the snow of the trail in such
a way that they would not be noticed. On his second round from which he
had returned only the day before, he had found some of these crushed
into the snow, sure evidence that they had been stepped on. He had kept
a sharp watch for a strange trail joining his own, but had discovered
none, doubtless due to the fact that the thief or thieves had come
across the bare ice of one of the lakes near the farther end of the line
and then it had been an easy matter to step into his trail where it
skirted the edge of the lake. On this last trip he had found an empty
rifle shell which apparently had been dropped unnoticed.
Pat's face had hardened as he listened to the recital. "Any signs of the
bloody minded thaves in the Holler or on the short lines?" he asked.
Alec shook his head. "They've kept away from here. The catch on the
short lines has been fair, and on the long line it ought to have been
better."
Pat stood up and shook himself. "Arrah now, 'tis time I was back on me
job," he growled. "Wance I lay the two hands av me on the thafe 'tis the
last time he will be wantin' to look wid the eyes av envy on fur thot
don't belong to him. A thafe who would shtale another man's fur would
rob his own grandmother. This storm will cover up all tracks, but 'tis
like there will be a chance for some real scouting after it is over.
'Tis thaves we'll be trappin' and not fur for a while. Did Big Jim say
anything about a silver fox when he was here?"
"No," replied Alec, his face lighting. "Why?"
"He told Doctor Merriam that he saw one on his way out, and we've been
wondering if it was over this way," Hal broke in eagerly.
"Likely he saw it on his way out of the Hollow," replied Alec. "There's
one here. I've seen him twice, but didn't get a shot. I've got traps set
for him, but he's been too smart for me so far. He's a big feller, and
his skin will grade No. 1 prime. If we can get him the thieves are
welcome to all the rest of our furs."
"No, they're not!" retorted Pat. "They're going to fork over every pelt
they've taken, to the smallest rat, or Pat Malone will know the reason
why." He shook a big fist by way of emphasis. "Now, let's turn in and
forget our troubles," he ended with a mildness that brought a general
laugh.