LOST IN A MOUNTAIN BLIZZARD.
Tired as were the occupants of that lonely camp after a day of
exhausting climbing through the timber, their slumbers were broken and
restless. The uncertainties of the morrow, the peculiar nature of the
road they had yet to travel, and the excitement consequent upon nearing
the end of their journey, which none of them believed to be over fifty
miles away, all combined to render them wakeful and uneasy. So they were
up by the first sign of daylight, and off before sunrise.
As there were now but three dogs to a sledge, the load of the one driven
by Serge was divided between it and the one that brought up the rear in
charge of Jalap Coombs. A few sticks of dry wood were also placed on
each sledge, so that in crossing the upper ice-fields they might at
least be able to melt snow for drinking purposes.
"Now for it!" cried Phil, cheerfully, as they emerged from the scanty
timber, and shivered in the chill blast that swept down from the
towering peaks above them. Between two of these was a saddlelike
depression that they took to be the pass, and to it the young leader
determined to guide his little party.
"Up you go, Musky!" he shouted. "Pull, Luvtuk, my pigeon! Amook, you old
rascal, show what you are good for! A little more work, a little more
hunger, and then rest, with plenty to eat. So stir yourselves and
climb!"
With this the long whip-lash whistled through the frosty air, and
cracked with a resounding report that would have done credit to the most
expert of Eskimo drivers, for our Phil was no longer a novice in its
use, and with a yelp the dogs sprang forward.
Up, up, up they climbed, until, as Phil remarked, it didn't seem as
though the top of the world could be very far away. The sun rose, and
flooded the snow-fields with such dazzling radiance that but for their
protecting goggles our travellers must have been completely blinded by
the glare. The deep gulch whose windings they followed held in
summer-time a roaring torrent, but now it was filled with solidly packed
snow from twenty-five to one hundred feet deep.
As they advanced the gulch grew more and more shallow, until at length
it was merged in a broad uniform slope so steep and slippery that they
were obliged to cut footholds in the snow, and at frequent intervals
carve out little benches two feet wide. From one of these to another
they dragged the sledges, one at a time, with rawhide ropes. Even the
dogs had to be assisted up the glassy incline, on which they could gain
no hold. So arduous was this labor that three hours were spent in
overcoming the last five hundred feet of the ascent. Thus it was long
past noon when, breathless and exhausted, the party reached the summit,
or rather a slope so gentle that the dogs could once more drag the
sledges.
Here, at an elevation of nearly five thousand feet above the sea, they
paused for breath, for a bite of lunch, and for a last look over the way
they had come. From this elevation their view embraced a sweep of over
one hundred miles of mountain and plain, river and forest. It was so
far-reaching and boundless that it even seemed as if they could take in
the whole vast Yukon Valley, and locate points that common-sense told
them were a thousand miles beyond their range of vision. Grand as was
the prospect, they did not care to look at it long. Time was precious;
the air, in spite of its sunlight, was bitterly chill, and, after all,
the mighty wilderness now behind them held too many memories of
hardship, suffering, and danger to render it attractive.
So, "Hurrah for the coast!" cried Phil.
"Hurrah for Sitka!" echoed Serge.
"Hooray for salt water! Now, bullies, up and at 'em!" roared Jalap
Coombs, expressing a sentiment, and an order to his sailor-bred dogs, in
a breath.
In a few moments more the wonderful view had disappeared, and the
sledges were threading their way amid a chaos of gigantic bowlders and
snow-covered landslides from the peaks that rose on both sides. There
was no sharp descent from the summit, such as they had hoped to find,
but instead a lofty plateau piled thick with obstructions. About them no
green thing was to be seen, no sign of life; only snow, ice, and
precipitous cliffs of bare rock. The all-pervading and absolute silence
was awful. There was no trail that might be followed, for the hardiest
of natives dared not attempt that crossing in the winter. Even if they
had, their trail would have been obliterated almost as soon as made by
the fierce storms of these altitudes. So their only guide was that of
general direction, which they knew to be south, and to this course Phil
endeavored to hold.
That night they made a chill camp in the lee of a great bowlder; that
is, in as much of a lee as could be had where the icy blast swept in
circles and eddies from all directions at once. They started a fire, but
its feeble flame was so blown hither and thither that by the time a
kettle of snow was melted, and the ice was thawed from their stew, their
supply of wood was so depleted that they dared not use more. So they ate
their scanty supper without tea, fed the dogs on frozen porridge, and
huddling together for warmth during the long hours of bleak darkness
were thankful enough to welcome the gray dawn that brought them to an
end.
For three days more they toiled over the terrible plateau, driven to
long detours by insurmountable obstacles, buffeted and lashed by fierce
snow-squalls and ice-laden gales, but ever pushing onward with unabated
courage, expecting with each hour to find themselves descending into the
valley of the Chilcat River. Two of the dogs driven by Serge broke down
so completely that they were mercifully shot. The third dog was added to
Jalap Coombs's team, and the load was divided between the remaining
sledges, while the now useless one was used as firewood. After that Phil
plodded on in advance, and Serge drove the leading team.
The fourth day of this terrible work was one of leaden clouds and bitter
winds. The members of the little party were growing desperate with cold,
exhaustion, and hunger. Their wanderings had not brought them to a
timber-line, and as poor Phil faced the blast with bowed head and
chattering teeth it seemed to him that to be once more thoroughly warm
would be the perfection of human happiness.
It was already growing dusk, and he was anxiously casting about for the
sorry shelter of some bowlder behind which they might shiver away the
hours of darkness, when he came to the verge of a steep declivity. His
heart leaped as he glanced down its precipitous face; for, far below, he
saw a dark mass that he knew must be timber. They could not descend at
that point; but he thought he saw one that appeared more favorable a
little further on, and hastened in that direction. He was already some
distance ahead of the slow-moving sledges, and meant to wait for them as
soon as he discovered a place from which the descent could be made.
Suddenly a whirling, blinding cloud of snow swept down on him with such
fury that to face it and breathe was impossible. Thinking it but a
squall, he turned his back and stood motionless, waiting for it to pass
over. Instead of so doing, it momentarily increased in violence and
density. A sudden darkness came with the storm, and as he anxiously
started back to meet the sledges he could not see one rod before him. He
began to shout, and in a few minutes had the satisfaction of hearing an
answering cry. Directly afterwards Serge loomed through the driving
cloud, urging on his reluctant dogs with voice and whip. The moment they
were allowed to stop, Husky, Luvtuk, and big Amook lay down as though
completely exhausted.
"We can't go a step further, Phil! We must make camp at once," panted
Serge. "This storm is a regular _poorga_, and will probably last all
night."
"But where can we camp?" asked Phil, in dismay. "There is timber down
below, but it looks miles away, and we can't get to it now."
"No," replied Serge; "we must stay where we are and burrow a hole in
this drift big enough to hold us. We've got to do it in a hurry too."
So saying, Serge drew his knife, for the outside of the drift close to
which they were halted was so hard packed as to render cutting
necessary, and outlined a low opening. From this he removed an unbroken
slab, and then began to dig furiously in the soft snow beyond.
In the meantime Phil was wondering why Jalap Coombs did not appear; for
he had supposed him to be close behind Serge; but now his repeated
shoutings gained no reply.
"He was not more than one hundred feet behind me when the storm began,"
said Serge, whose anxiety caused him to pause in his labor, though it
was for the preservation of their lives.
"He must be in some trouble," said Phil, "and I am going back to find
him."
"You can't go alone!" cried Serge. "If you are to get lost, I must go
with you."
"No. One of us must stay here with Nel-te, and it is my duty to go; but
do you shout every few seconds, and I promise not to go beyond sound of
your voice."
Thus saying, Phil started back, and was instantly swallowed in the
vortex of the blizzard. Faithfully did Serge shout, and faithfully did
Phil answer, for nearly fifteen minutes. Then the latter came staggering
back, with horror-stricken face and voice.
"I can't find him, Serge! Oh, I can't find him!" he cried. "I am afraid
he has gone over the precipice. If he has, it is my fault, and I shall
never forgive myself, for I had no business to go so far ahead and let
the party get scattered."
Serge answered not a word, but fell with desperate energy to the
excavating of his snow-house. His heart was nigh breaking with the
sorrow that had overtaken them, but he was determined that no other
lives should be lost if his efforts could save them. The excavation was
soon so large that Phil could work with him, but with all their furious
digging they secured a shelter from the pitiless _poorga_ none too soon.
The sledge was already buried from sight, and poor little Nel-te was
wellnigh smothered ere they lifted him from it and pulled him into the
burrow.