A WILDERNESS ORPHAN
The position in which Phil now found himself was certainly a perplexing
one. By the very simple process of getting lost he had discovered Cree
Jim’s cabin, but was appalled to consider what else he had found at the
same time. He now knew that the remainder of their journey, its most
difficult and dangerous portion, must be undertaken without a guide.
Not only this, but they must be burdened with a child so young as to
be practically helpless. In the meantime, what was to be done with
those silent and motionless forms whose dread presence so pervaded that
lonely cabin? And how was he to communicate with his friends? There was
no back trail to follow, for the snow had wiped it out. He did not even
know in which direction camp lay, for, in the ardor of his chase the
evening before, he had taken no note of course nor distance.
There was the stream, though, on whose bank the cabin was perched. It
must flow into the river. Yes, that was his only hope. But the river
might be miles away, and the camp as much farther off; if, indeed, it
could still be found where he had left it. But of course it would be!
So long as Serge Belcofsky and Jalap Coombs had life and strength to
search for him that camp would remain a permanent fixture until he
returned to it. Phil was absolutely sure of that, and he now realized,
as never before, the priceless value of a friendship whose loyalty is
beyond doubt.
So the plan was formed. He would go down the stream and up the river
until he found camp. Then he would bring Serge and a sledge back with
him. In the meantime the child must be left where he was, for Phil
doubted if he could carry him over the weary miles that he knew must
lie between the cabin and camp, while for the little fellow to walk
that distance was out of the question.
Phil sat on a stool before the fire while doing all this thinking. As
he rose to carry out his plan, Nel-te, who was becoming terrified at
his mother’s silence in spite of his efforts to attract her attention,
slipped from the bed, ran to his new friend, and thrusting a cold
little hand into one of his, looked up with a smile of such perfect
trust that Phil snatched him in his arms and kissed him, at the same
time giving him a great hug.
Then he said: “Now, Nel-te, Brother Phil is going away for a little
while to get some doggies for you to play with, and you must stay here
like a good boy, and not open the door until he comes back. Do you
understand?”
“Yes; me go get doggies. Nel-te like doggies. Good doggies!” And almost
before Phil knew what the child was about, he had slipped from his
arms, run to the door, and was putting on the tiny snow-shoes that had
been left outside. Then, with an engaging smile, he called, cheerily,
“Come. Nel-te say come. Get doggies.”
“All right, little chap. I expect your plan is as good as mine, after
all,” replied Phil, into whose mind had just flashed the promise made
to that dead mother――never to desert her baby. “And here I was about
to begin by doing that very thing,” he reflected as he glanced at the
marble face overspread by the expression of perfect content that his
promise had brought.
Moved by a sudden impulse he picked up the boy, and, bringing him back,
held him so that he might kiss the peaceful face. This the child did
with a soft cooing that served to convey both love and pity. Then he
ran to the stalwart figure that still lay on the floor, and, patting
its swarthy cheek, said something in the Cree tongue that Phil did not
understand.
After that Phil carefully closed the door to prevent the intrusion
of wild beasts, and the two, whose fortunes had become so strangely
interwoven, set forth together down the white surface of the
forest-bordered stream, on whose bank Nel-te had been born and passed
his few years of life. He was happily but unconsciously venturing
on his first “little journey into the world,” while his companion
was filled with a sense of manliness and responsibility from the
experiences through which he had just passed that the mere adding of
years could never have brought.
Phil wondered at the ease with which the little fellow managed his
snow-shoes, until he reflected that the child had probably been taught
to use them from the day of taking his first step. So the two fur-clad
figures, ridiculously contrasted in size, trudged along side by side
down the winding stream, the one thoughtfully silent and the other
chattering of “doggies” until he began to lag behind and give signs
that the pace was telling on his slender strength.
“Poor little chap!” said Phil. “But I have been expecting it, and now
we will try another scheme.” So, slinging the tiny snow-shoes across
the child’s back, he picked him up and set him astride his own broad
shoulders, where Nel-te clutched his head, and shouted with glee at
this delightful mode of travel.
After they had gone a mile or so in this fashion they rounded a sharp
bend, and came so suddenly upon poor Serge, who was making his way up
the stream in search of some trace of his friend, that for a moment he
stood motionless and speechless with amazement. He could make nothing
of the approaching apparition until Phil shouted, cheerily:
“Hurrah, old man! Here we are, safe and sound, and awfully glad to see
you.”
“Oh, Phil!” cried Serge, while tears actually stood in his honest
blue eyes, “I can hardly believe it! It seems almost too good to be
true. Are you sure you are not wounded nor frozen nor hurt in any way?
Haven’t you suffered terribly? If you haven’t, we have. I don’t believe
Mr. Coombs slept a wink last night, and I know I didn’t. But I am happy
enough at this minute to make up for it all, a hundred times over. Oh,
Phil!”
“I have suffered a little from anxiety, and been a trifle hungry, and
had some sad experiences, but I haven’t suffered half so much as I
deserved for my carelessness in getting lost. I found Cree Jim, though;
but――”
“And brought him with you?” interrupted Serge, smiling for the first
time in many hours, as he glanced at the quaint little figure perched
on Phil’s shoulders.
“Not exactly,” replied the other, soberly. “You see this little chap is
his son, and I’ve adopted him for a sort of a brother, and he is going
with us.”
“You’ve done what?” cried Serge.
“Adopted him. That is, you see I promised my aunt Ruth to bring her
something from Alaska that was unique in the way of a curio, and it
seems to me that Nel-te here will please her about as well as anything.
Don’t you think so?”
“Perhaps so,” assented Serge, doubtfully. “But was his father willing
that you should have him?”
“Oh yes, perfectly. That is, you know, he is dead, and so is the
mother; but I promised her to take care of the little chap, and as
there wasn’t anything else to be done, why, here we are.”
“Of course it’s all right if you say so,” agreed Serge, “and I don’t
care, so long as you are safe, if you carry a whole tribe back to your
aunt Ruth; but now don’t you think we’d better be getting along to
camp? It was all I could do to persuade Mr. Coombs to stay behind and
look out for things; he is so anxious. The only way I could induce him
to stay was by suggesting that you might come in tired and hungry, and
would feel awfully if no one was there to welcome you. But he is liable
to set out on a hunt for you at any moment.”
“Certainly, we must get there as quickly as possible,” replied Phil.
“How far is it?”
“Not more than one mile up the river from the mouth of this creek,
which is only a few rods below here. But oh, Phil, to think that I have
found you! When I had almost given up all hope of ever again seeing
you alive, too. I have been down as far as our first camp on the river
this morning, and this creek was my last hope. I wouldn’t have left the
country without you, though, or at any rate without knowing what had
become of you. Neither would Mr. Coombs. We settled that last night
while we talked over what had best be done.”
“I was sure you wouldn’t, old fellow,” replied Phil, with something
like a choke in his voice. “I knew that as well before you said it as I
do now, and it was the thing that kept me up most of all.”
The two boys had so much to tell, and so many proofs of loving
confidence to exchange, that, before they realized they were anywhere
near camp they came upon it, and were hailed by Jalap Coombs, who
almost hugged Phil in his revulsion of feeling and unaffected joy at
the lad’s return.
“But you don’t do it again, Philip, my son!” he cried. “That is, the
next time you feel inclined to wander from home and stay out nights,
you may go, of course, but you’ll have to take me along. So ef you gits
lost, I gits lost likewise; for, as my old friend Kite Roberson useter
say consarning prodegal sons, ‘It’s allus toughest on them as is left
behind.’ But, Phil, what be ye doing with that furry little beggar? Is
he the pilot ye went sarching for?”
“Yes,” laughed Phil, lifting Nel-te down from his shoulders. “He is
the pilot who is to lead us from this wilderness, and if you have got
anything to eat, you’d better give it to him before he devours one of
the dogs, which he seems inclined to do. I can answer for it that he
has been on short rations for several days and is properly hungry.”
“Have I got anything to eat?” cried the other. “Waal, rather! How does
fresh steaks, and roasts, and chops, and stews strike your fancy?” With
this he pointed to one side of the camp, where, to their astonishment,
the boys saw a quantity of fresh meat, much of which was already cut
into thin strips for freezing and packing.
“Where did it come from?” queried Phil, looking at Serge; but the
latter only shook his head, evidently equally puzzled.
“It’s jest a bit of salvage that I raked in as it went drifting by,”
explained Jalap Coombs, his face beaming with gratified pride. “It’s
some kind of deer meat, and _for_ a deer he were pretty nigh as big as
one of them elephants back yonder in the moss cave. You see, he came
cruising along this way shortly after Serge left, and the dogs give
chase and made him heave to. When I j’ined ’em he surrendered. Then I
had my hands full in a hurry, driving off the dogs and lashing ’em fast
so as they couldn’t eat him, horns and all, and cutting of him up. I
hain’t more’n made a beginning with him either, for there’s pretty nigh
a full cargo left.”
“But how did you kill him? There wasn’t any gun in camp?” asked Phil,
utterly bewildered.
“Of course there warn’t no gun,” answered Jalap Coombs, “and likewise I
didn’t need one. Sich things I leave for boys. How did I kill him, say
you? Why, I jest naterally harpooned him like I would any other whale.”