When Sidney looked around and saw only a desolate Arctic waste, with
no haven from the bleak exposure, his strength and courage suddenly
went from him and he sank down in the snow by his brother’s side. The
piercing cold remorselessly bit through his clothes and sucked all his
vitality. But as he crouched in the snow, the relief of repose was so
great that he thought, languidly, he would rest there with Raymond, and
escape the terrific struggle for a time. He was rapidly becoming numbed
by the cold, and was lapsing into a somnolent state that felt neither
inconvenience nor pain.
Then, with a mental wrench, Sidney’s thoughts reverted to his brother’s
condition, and he remembered that when Raymond fell he had determined
that he must do something immediately to restore him. That thought gave
to his brain the fillip that was necessary to set his mind at work
again, and he struggled to his feet and looked around at Raymond. The
sight of the boy, huddled helplessly in the snow, brought a complete
realization of their peril, and he became once more alert. By stamping
his feet and threshing his arms he restored a tingling circulation, and
began to feel equal to further effort.
When Sidney examined his surroundings more carefully than he had done
in his first fright, he saw, not far away, a break in a snowy cliff.
What had before appeared to be only a bit of rock exposed through the
snow seemed then to promise a space back of the white mantle. With
careful steps he waded over to the spot, and found, to his joy, that
there was really a shelter ready for them. A shelving cliff projected
a few feet beyond its base, and that projection had prevented the snow
from drifting in quite to the rock at the bottom. There was a space of
bare ground some three or four feet wide, and, what was more important,
there were small shrubs growing all along at the base of the cliff.
With a renewal of energy Sidney returned to his brother, taking care
to step in the tracks he had made when going to the cliff. By so
doing he packed the snow to some extent and made a semblance of a
trail. Raymond had not stirred, and Sidney thought, with a pang, that
without effective aid he probably never would stir again. He picked the
unconscious boy up, and holding him across one shoulder, retraced his
steps to the cliff.
Sidney laid his brother down on the bare ground close to the rock wall,
and then, without waiting to revive him, he hurried to collect fuel
before it should become quite dark. Fortunately, while the shrubs at
the base of the cliff appeared small, they had been growing for many
years and there was more dead wood than green. Gathering armfuls of
the small dead branches Sidney built a fire at the edge of the snow in
front of where Raymond lay.
How grateful was the warmth that was thrown back from the rocks of the
cliff! The ruddy fire, reflected brilliantly from the glistening snow
that covered everything, changed the appearance of cold, which had been
so depressing but a few moments before, to a seeming of cheer and hope.
Even the sight of Raymond, lying so still between the fire and the
cliff, seemed less dreadful.
As soon as the fire was established, Sidney placed a supply of fuel
within reach, and then turned his attention to Raymond. Opening the
blankets, and spreading the warm Daghestan rug on the ground, he
stretched his brother on that. Then he took off Raymond’s shoes and
stockings, and after briskly chafing his ice-cold feet, wrapped them
in a blanket and chafed his hands and wrists. Alternately rubbing the
boy’s feet and hands, he worked assiduously until a slight degree of
warmth began to be manifest.
Sidney kept the fire replenished, maintaining a constant brisk though
small blaze. In the restricted quarters the heat was given back from
wall and sloping ceiling until it was almost like a warm room. Sidney’s
own exertions, quite independent of the fire, put his whole body in a
most agreeable glow, but he was becoming fatigued and hungry almost to
the limit of endurance. Finally, as he had used his entire stock of
fuel, he went along the base of the cliff to search for more, first
covering Raymond with the blankets. As he returned with an armful of
sticks he saw that his brother’s eyes were open.
“Hello, Ray,” he cried cheerily; “how’s this for a camp!”
Raymond smiled faintly and whispered, “Gee, but I’m tired!”
“You have a right to be tired,” said Sidney, “and there’s nothing to do
now but rest.”
“It’s fine to have nothing to do,” said Raymond from his bed.
“Isn’t it?” responded Sidney, though at the time he was so tired he
could hardly stand.
“I think now,” he continued, “I’ll sit down and have some supper. Don’t
you want something to eat, Ray?”
“I’m too tired to eat, and too warm to move, but you go ahead, I’ll eat
something after a while.”
“I’m glad you’re warm, Ray,” said Sidney as he opened a knapsack and
took out some food, “for you certainly were not an hour ago.”
Raymond lay quiet, as if thinking, for a moment, then he raised himself
on his elbow.
“Heck! Sid,” he exclaimed; “did you bring me in here? I remember now I
was out in the snow, and thought I couldn’t go any farther.”
“Yes, and you were a mighty heavy tug. It was lucky you gave out when
you did, though, Ray, within reach of this fine place.”
“You certainly are a trump, Sid; you always pull me through.”
“Well, now you’d better have some supper; I know you’re hungry.”
“Yes, I am hungry, and seeing you eat makes me hungrier. Jiminy!
Wouldn’t it be swell to have some hot coffee?”
“It would that,” replied Sidney. “But never mind, we’ll get where
there’s coffee before long.”
At Bezheeta they had obtained bread and a little cheese, the latter
being a great treat, for they had been some days without any. The bear
steaks had been consumed before they reached the village. They sat on
their blankets back of the little fire and ate the bread and cheese
with great relish. For drink, of which they did not care for much, they
melted fresh snow in the cup.
As the boys sat munching their supper they looked out on a very
Arctic landscape. They were at the upper end of the ravine they had
been following up, and only a short distance from the summit, with an
outlook that would, in daylight, embrace many miles of the north side
of the range. The sky had cleared after the storms of the day, and a
full moon, just above the crests in the east, flooded with a soft light
the rocky cliffs and ravines that were rounded with their covering of
white.
The overhanging cliff which formed the boys’ shelter was draped from
its upper edge with frozen snow, which even hung down in front and gave
the appearance of an ice grotto. The only relief from the prevailing
white radiance was afforded by the bare rock of the cliff at the back.
Even that was picked out in ruddy lights reflected from the fire.
That fire was the saving feature of the whole scene. Outside, the
prospect was one of Arctic desolation, but inside, the impression given
by the cheerful blaze was one of comfort and warmth.
The boys soon imbibed the cheer of their immediate surroundings,
and were promptly fortified by their supper. Both of them had been
exhausted as much by hunger as by hard work. Not until they were lying
at their ease by the fire, and felt the rest that is given by food,
did they realize that they had eaten nothing since they left Bezheeta
in the morning. The cold and bleakness of the road had not invited
lunches. The wonder was that they had not given out before they did.
“Wasn’t the trail covered up entirely before we stopped, Sid?” asked
Raymond after they had finished their supper and lay in the warmth.
“Yes, there wasn’t a foot of it left.”
“Do you think we can get up to the top without any road?”
“Oh, I think so. It isn’t far, and it will look mighty near in the
morning.”
“But the snow is pretty deep,” said Raymond, “and we’ll have to do some
tall wading. And suppose we drop into a hidden gulch?”
“I think,” said Sidney, “that if we can get up to the ridge back of
this cliff we can follow that up and the snow won’t be so deep.
“Well, I don’t want to be a croaker, Sid, but what shall we do if we
can’t find the road down the other side?”
“I think when we get to the top that we’ll find there is no snow on
the other side, or maybe just a little near the summit. It’s too early
in the season for the snow to go very far down the south side of the
range.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Raymond. “That will be fine; I’m tired
of snow.”
“We’ll make quick time,” said Sidney, “down the south side. As I
remember the map it’s a very short slope, compared with this side.”
“Gee!” said Raymond, “I’ll be glad of that. I want to get where I can
eat a square meal and have all the coffee I want. We haven’t had a
smell of coffee since we left Petrovsk.”
“I hope, when we reach Tiflis,” said Sidney, “that we can send a cable
to mother. I don’t know whether everything around the Black Sea will be
all war or not.”
“There’s one sure thing,” said Raymond; “Russia can’t send any troops
over these mountains.”
“Not by this trail, I guess,” said Sidney with a laugh, “but she can
send them up through the Dariel Pass. You know they told us at Petrovsk
that troops were going north that way then.”
“That was ages ago,” said Raymond. “The war may have been ended long
before now.”
“It does seem a long time.” And Sidney sighed wearily as he thought of
the work back of them. “I hope the war is over. I wish we knew.”
The weather, after the skies cleared, had turned cold very rapidly, and
the night that followed was very frosty, but the boys, in what they
called their house, were snug as could be. The cliff served not only as
a wall, but as a roof, and with the fire in the “doorway,” they were
well protected. To be sure, the fire did not burn all night, but they
kept it up until they were ready to crawl between their blankets. Then
they doubled up their beds and slept close together, and though the
night was the coldest in all their camping experience, they did not
suffer.
In the morning it was a short task to build a brisk fire with the stock
of dry sticks they had left overnight. Indeed, the fire was more
cheerful than the breakfast, for with a temperature that must have been
hovering near the zero mark, a cold, dry meal was not very satisfying.
Raymond sighed again for hot coffee, and declared that if he ever took
such a journey again he would carry a coffee-pot, whatever else he left
behind.
The boys really felt very little effect from the terrible exposure and
fatigue of the previous day. A night’s warm rest, and food that was
sufficient in quantity, however unpalatable in quality, had restored
them completely. They started out, therefore, with renewed courage,
and, as Sidney had predicted, the summit in the morning light seemed
very near, as though it were not more than a few hundred yards away.
The boys first sought a place where they might climb to the top of the
cliff back of their camp, and having gained that, found they were on
a ridge that led directly to the summit. Even then, however, it was
not an easy climb. The snow, while not so deep as it had been in the
ravine, was still too deep for good traveling. The more recently fallen
snow had been packed just enough to make it resist a little when they
stepped on it, and yet not enough to allow it to support their weight.
That made very heavy walking.
Over that yielding surface the boys plodded slowly but steadily, and
with good cheer. The air was still and the sun shone clear and warm.
It was a day very different from the previous one of storms. When they
stepped into a depression and were buried to the waist, they did not
mind it, but laughed and struggled out.
In that way, slowly but surely, they won toward the summit. As they
neared the goal their impatience increased until they were ploughing
through the snow with breathless haste, panting and puffing with
the effort. Then, finally, they stood on the topmost point, and
simultaneously their caps flew into the air, and they gave three
rousing cheers and a tiger.