The summer just past had been an especially restless, uneasy

Produced by Al Haines.

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[Illustration: "_He found himself in a large room flooded with light_."

Page 192.]

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*MY STRANGE RESCUE*

AND OTHER STORIES

*of Sport and Adventure in Canada*

BY

J. MACDONALD OXLEY

_Author of "In the Wilds of the West Coast," "Diamond Rock,"

"Up Among the Ice-Floes"

&c. &c._

THOMAS NELSON AND SONS

_London, Edinburgh, and New York_

1903

*PREFATORY NOTE.*

The Author begs to express his acknowledgments to the publishers of _Our

Youth_, _Youth's Companion_, _Harper's Young People_, _Golden Days_, and

other periodicals, in whose pages many of these stories and sketches

were first published.

J. M. O.

*CONTENTS.*

MY VERY STRANGE RESCUE

A BLESSING IN STERN DISGUISE

IN PERIL AT BLACK RUN

TOUCH AND GO

THE CAVE IN THE CLIFF

TOBOGGANING

A MIC-MAC CINDERELLA

BLUE-NOSE FISHER FOLK

LOST ON THE LIMITS

A STRANGE HELPER

FORTY MILES OF MAELSTROM

THE CANADIAN CHILDREN OF THE COLD

FACE TO FACE WITH AN "INDIAN DEVIL"

IN THE NICK OF TIME

SNOW-SHOEING

THE SWIMMING MATCH AT THE ARM

HAROLD'S LASTING IMPRESSION

HOW WILBERFORCE BRENNAN VISITED WHITE BEAR CASTLE

OUTSIDE THE BOOM

FOUND AFTER MANY DAYS

MRS. GRUNDY'S GOBBLERS

ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE SNOW-RIDGE

THROUGH THE TRACKLESS FOREST

WRECKS AND WRECKERS OF ANTICOSTI

A LUMBER CAMP

LACROSSE

A PILLOW-SLIP FULL OF APPLES

LOST ON LAKE ST. LOUIS

ICE-SKATING IN CANADA

THE WILD DOGS OF ATHABASCA

BIRDS AND BEASTS ON SABLE ISLAND

THE BORE OF MINAS BASIN

THE GAME OF RINK HOCKEY

ON THE EDGE OF THE RAPIDS

THEO'S TOBOGGANING TRIUMPH

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*MY VERY STRANGE RESCUE.*

A shout of laughter rang through the kitchen and went echoing up the

great chimney when, much more in fun than in earnest, I hinted that if

they could not manage to kill the bear themselves I would have to do it

for them.

Now it was no new thing for me to be laughed at. My big brothers were

only too fond of that amusement, and I had got pretty well used to it;

but this time I detected a particularly derisive tone in their hilarity,

which touched me to the quick, and springing to my feet, with eyes

flashing and cheeks burning, I burst out hotly,--

"I don't care how much you laugh. As sure as I'm standing here, I'll

put a bullet in that bear before this time to-morrow night!"

At this they only laughed the louder, and filled the room with sarcastic

shouts of,--

"Hurrah for the Bantam!"--"I'll bet on the bear"--"What will you take

for his skin, Bantam?" until father silenced them with one of his

reproving looks, and drew me to him, saying soothingly,--

"Don't mind the boys, Walter; and don't let your temper betray you into

making rash vows that you cannot keep."

I sat down in the sulks, and soon after skipped off to bed; but it was a

long time before I got to sleep, for my brain was in a whirl, and my

blood coursing through my veins like fire.

I was the youngest in a family of six sturdy boys, and consequently came

in for much more than a fair share, as I thought, of good-natured

ridicule from my big brothers.

They were all fond enough of me, and generally very kind to me too; but

they had a notion, and perhaps not altogether a mistaken one, that I was

inclined to think too much of myself, and they took great pleasure in

putting me down, as they were pleased to call it.

Of course I did my best not to be put down, and they had nicknamed me

"the Bantam," as a sort of left-handed compliment to my fiery opposition

against being put down.

I was rather small for my age, and they could easily beat me in nearly

all the trials of skill and strength country boys delighted in--not

quite all, however, for, much to my pride and satisfaction, I could hit

the bull's-eye chalked out on the big barn-door twice as often as the

best of them; and no small comfort did my skill in shooting give me.

But this far from contented me, and in my foolish feverish haste to get

on a level with those big fellows, I was constantly attempting all sort

of reckless, daring feats, that called forth my father's grave reproof

and my mother's loving entreaties.

Time and again would father say to me,--

"Walter, your rashness will be the death of you some day. Don't be in

such a hurry to be a man before you've quit being a boy!"

But reproof and entreaty alike went unheeded; and that night, as I

tossed restlessly about in bed, I made solemn vows to the stars peeping

in through the window that next morning I would take Tiger and go off

alone after the huge black bear which had been prowling around the

sheepfold lately, and which father and the boys had twice hunted in

vain.

Soothed by the prospect of the glory success would bring me, I fell

asleep, and dreamed that, armed only with my jack-knife, I was chasing

hard after the bear, which seemed half as big as the barn, yet ran away

in the most flattering fashion.

Next morning all my temper had vanished, and so much of my valour had

vanished with it that my bear-hunting would never have probably got

beyond dreamland had not Jack, the moment I appeared, called out

mockingly,--

"Behold the mighty hunter! Make way for Bantam, the renowned

bear-slayer."

The chorus of laughter that greeted this sally set me in a blaze again;

but this time I held my tongue, and the teasing soon stopped.

The mischief was done, however; I felt as though I would rather die than

go back on my word now. Never before in my life had I been stirred so

deeply.

Determined to keep my purpose secret, I waited about the house until all

the others had gone off. Then, quietly taking down my gun, I put

half-a-dozen biscuits in my pocket, and, with well-filled powder-flask

and bullet-pouch, slipped off unobserved towards the forest, Tiger

following close at my heels.

Tiger was my own dog--a present from a city uncle after whom I had been

named. He was half fox-hound, half bull-terrier, and seemed to combine

the best qualities of both breeds, so that for sense, strength, and

courage, his superior could not be found of his size. My affection for

him was surpassed only by his devotion to me. He acknowledged no other

master, and fairly lived in the light of my countenance.

This morning he evidently caught from my face some inkling of the

serious nature of our business, for instead of bounding and barking

about me in his wonted way he trotted gravely along at my side, every

now and then looking up into my face, as though about to say, "Here I

am, ready for anything!" And where could I have found a trustier ally?

It was a glorious day in December. A week of intense cold had been

succeeded by a few days of milder weather, and over all the trees the

frost had thrown a fairy garb of white that sparkled brightly in the

morning sun. The air was just cold enough to be bracing. The spotless

snow crunched crisply under my feet as I walked rapidly over it, and my

spirits rose with every step.

Soon I had climbed the hill pasture, and with one look backward at my

dear old home, nestling among its beeches and poplars in the plain

below, I plunged into the dense undergrowth that bordered the vast

Canadian forest, which stretched away inland for many a mile.

The snow lay pretty deep in the woods, but my snowshoes made the walking

easy. Everywhere across the white surface ran the interlacing tracks of

rabbits and red foxes, with here and there the broader, deeper print of

the wild cat; for it had been a long, hard winter, and the wild animals,

desperate with hunger, were drawing uncomfortably close to the settled

districts.

As I pushed on into the lonely, silent forest, its shadows began to cool

my ardour, and the inclination to turn back strengthened every moment,

so that my pride had hard work to keep my courage up to the mark.

Presently I came to an open glade, almost circular, and about fifty

yards across, walled in on all sides by tall, dark pines and sombre

hemlocks.

It was so pleasant to be in full view of the sun again, that I halted on

the verge of this glade to rest a little, leaning against a huge pine,

and letting the sunshine pour down upon me, although my long walk had

started the perspiration from every pore.

Tiger, who had been carefully scrutinizing every paw-print, but

following up none, as he saw I evidently was not after small game that

day, now bounded off along the edge of the forest, and I watched him

proudly as, with nose close to the snow and tail high in the air, he ran

hither and thither, the very picture of canine beauty and intelligence.

Suddenly he stopped short, snuffed fiercely at a track in the snow, and

then, with sharp, eager barks that sounded like a succession of

pistol-shots, and startled every nerve and fibre in my body into intense

excitement, sprang over the snow with mad haste, until he brought up at

the foot of a tree just opposite me on the other side of the glade.

For some moments I stood as if spell-bound. I felt that nothing less

than a bear-trail could have put Tiger in such a quiver. Perhaps he had

struck the track of the bear, about whose immense size father and the

boys had talked so much.

I confess that at the thought my knees trembled, my tongue parched as

though with hot thirst, and I stood there utterly irresolute, until all

at once, like a great wave, my courage came back to me, the hunter

instinct rose supreme over human weakness, and grasping my gun tightly,

I hurried across to where the dog was still barking furiously.

A bare, blasted tree-trunk stood out gaunt and gray, in marked contrast

to the dark masses of the pine and hemlock around. It was plainly the

ruin of a magnificent pine, which once had towered high above its

fellows, and then paid the penalty of its pre-eminence by being first

selected as a target for the lightning.

Only some twenty feet of its former grandeur remained, and this poor,

decapitated stub was evidently hollow and rotten to the roots, for

deeply scored upon its barkless sides were the signs of its being

nothing more or less than a bear's den--the admirably chosen

hiding-place of some sagacious Bruin.

My gun was loaded with an extra charge of powder and two good bullets.

I put on a fresh cap, made sure everything was in good order, and took

my stand a few yards off from the tree to await the result of Tiger's

audacious challenge.

Minute after minute crept slowly by, but not a sound came from the tree.

The tension of nerve was extreme.

At length I could stand it no longer. If the bear was really inside the

tree-trunk, I must know it immediately.

Looking up, I noticed that an adjoining hemlock sent out a long arm

right over the hollow trunk, while a little above was another branch by

which I could steady myself.

Taking off my snow-shoes, and laying my gun at the hemlock's foot, I

climbed quickly up, Tiger for a time suspending his barking in order to

look inquiringly after me.

Reaching the branch, which seemed strong enough for anything, I walked

out on it carefully, balancing myself by the one above, my moccasined

feet giving me a good foothold, until I was right over the deep,

mysterious cavity.

I peered eagerly in, but of course saw nothing save darkness as of

Egypt, and, half laughing at my own folly had turned to retrace my

steps, when suddenly, without the slightest warning, the bough on which

I stood snapped short off a few feet from the trunk.

For one harrowing instant I clung to the slender branch above, and then,

it slipping swiftly through my fingers, with a wild shriek of terror I

plunged feet foremost into the awful abyss beneath.

Just grazing the rim of the tree's open mouth, I fell sheer to the

bottom, bringing up with such a shock that the fright and fall combined

rendered me insensible.

How long I lay there I cannot say. When I did come to myself, my first

impulse was to stand up. And words cannot express my relief when I

found that, although much shaken up, no bones were broken, thanks to the

accumulation of rotten wood at the bottom of this strange well.

But oh, what a fearful situation was mine, and how bitterly I reproached

myself for my folly! Shut up in the heart of that hollow tree; four

long miles from home and help; utterly unable to extricate myself, for

the soft decayed sides of my prison forbade all attempts at ascent; only

a few biscuits in my pocket; not a drop of water, and already I was

suffering with thirst; and, to crown all, the possibility, ay, the

certainty, of the bear returning in a few hours, while I had no other

weapon of defence than the hunter's knife which hung at my belt.

Although it was mid-day now, intense darkness filled my prison cell, and

the air was close and foul, for Bruin had evidently been tenant of the

place all winter.

For some time I could do nothing but gaze at the little patch of blue

sky above me that seemed so hopelessly far away, as if rescue must soon

come from thence. I could faintly hear poor Tiger's barking still, and

fearing he might go off in search of me, I kicked and pounded against

the sides of the tree, shouting at the top of my voice.

I don't know whether he could hear me, but he did not go away at all

events. It would have been far better for him, poor fellow, if he had.

After some minutes the first bewildering paroxysm of fright abated, and

I set myself seriously to consider what was to be done. I could not

give up all hope of escape, desperate as my case seemed, and I felt sure

I would lose my mind if I did not keep myself constantly employed in

some way.

There seemed but one thing to do, and to that I forthwith applied

myself. In my belt hung my strong, keen-edged hunting-knife. Since I

could not climb out of my prison, perhaps I could cut my way out. So

drawing the knife, I set to work with tremendous vigour.

At first it was easy enough, for the soft decayed wood offered little

opposition to my keen blade, and I felt encouraged. But presently I

reached the hard rind, and then had to go warily for fear of snapping

the steel off short.

The close confinement, the heavy, poisonous air, and the constrained

position the work required, all told hard upon me; but I toiled away

with the determination of despair.

I must have spent at least an hour thus, when, to my delight, a hard

blow sent the knife-blade clean through the wood, and on drawing it back

a blessed little bit of daylight peeped through, which made a new man of

me.

At it I went again, and paused not this time until I had a jagged hole

chipped out through which I could put my hand. If the bear did not come

for a couple of hours more I would be free.

The moment I put out my hand Tiger caught sight of it, and came leaping

up against the tree, wild with delight at finding me again, for now of

course I could easily make him hear iny voice.

A few minutes' rest and the breathing of the pure, fresh air that

streamed in through the opening, and chip, chip, chip, I cut away at the

hard wood until a hole as big as my face was made.

Another brief rest, for I was getting very tired, when--ah, what is the

matter? Why is Tiger barking so madly? Can it be that the bear is

returning? Yes, there he comes!

He was half-way across the glade already, and Tiger, trembling with

rage, was right below me at the root of the tree, ready to defend me to

the death.

Growling fiercely, the huge brute shambled rapidly toward us. Another

minute, and Tiger the dauntless sprang at his throat.

But the bear was too quick for him, and with one sweep of his great

fore-paw sent his puny opponent rolling over on the snow.

[Illustration: "IN A FEW SECONDS WE WERE AT THE TOP." _Page_ 22]

Little hurt, and much wiser for this rebuff, the dog attacked from

behind, and bit so sharp and quick that Bruin in self-defence, reared up

on his hind legs, ready to wheel round and drop on the dog at the first

opportunity.

For minutes (which seemed hours) the unequal contest went on before my

straining eyes. More than once the bear, in sheer disgust at his

inability to crush his agile adversary, attempted to climb the tree, and

my heart seemed to stand still as his claws rattled against the wood.

But the instant he turned his back Tiger had his sharp fangs deep into

his hams, and with a fierce snarl down he dropped to renew the conflict.

The afternoon shades were lengthening now, and a new hope dawned within

me. My mother had ere this grown anxious at my long absence from home,

and perhaps my father and brothers were even then tracing me through the

forest by my snow-shoe track. They would hear Tiger's furious yelps if

they were anywhere within a mile of us. If my noble dog could hold out

long enough we should both be saved.

Full of this hope I cheered him vigorously, and seeming to be as

tireless as fearless, the little hero kept up the fight. They were both

before me now in full view, and I could watch every movement. The scene

would have been ludicrous if my life had not hung upon its issue--the

bear was so clumsy and awkward, the dog so quick and clever.

As it was, I almost forgot my anxiety in my excitement, when, with a

thrill of horror, I saw that Tiger's sharp teeth had caught in the

bear's shaggy fur, and he could not free himself. The bear wheeled

swiftly round upon him. One instant more, and the huge, pitiless jaws

had him in their grasp at last.

There was an awful moment of silence, then a quick half-smothered cry, a

harsh exultant roar, and out of that fatal embrace my brave, faithful

dog dropped to the ground, a limp, lifeless mass.

I could think of nothing but my dog at first; and in frantic, futile

rage I beat against the obdurate walls of my prison, while the bear

sniffed curiously at his victim, turned him about with his great paws,

and seemed to be exulting over the brave spirit he had conquered. But

when, having satisfied his pride, the brute turned to climb the tree,

all my thoughts centred upon myself, for I felt that my hour had come.

I could feel his claws scraping against the outside as, wearied with his

exertion, he climbed slowly up. There was nothing for me but to wait his

coming, and then sell my life as dearly as possible.

Firmly grasping my knife, whose keenness had, alas, been spent upon the

tough wood, and feeling as though the bitterness of death were already

past, I stood awaiting my fate. Watching closely the narrow opening at

the top, I noticed that the bear was descending tail foremost. Foot by

foot he came slowly down, striking his long, sharp claws deep into the

spongy wood, his huge bulk completely filling the passage.

Not a movement or a sound did I make. All at once, as if by

inspiration--was it in answer to my poor prayer?--an idea flashed into

my brain, at which I grasped as a drowning man might grasp at a straw.

The bear was now close at my head. I waited until he had descended one

step more, then reaching up both hands, and taking a firm grip of his

soft, yielding fur, I shouted at the top of my voice.

For one harrowing moment the bear paused, as though paralyzed. Heaven

help me if he drops, I thought. Then, with a wild spring, he started

upward, dragging me after him. Putting forth all his vast strength he

scrambled with incredible speed straight up that hollow shaft, I holding

on like grim death, and giving all the help I could.

In a few seconds we were at the top, and with a joy beyond all

describing I emerged into daylight. No sooner did the bear reach the

rim than he swung himself over, and plunged headlong downwards without

an instant's pause. At that moment I let go, and tried to make the

descent more slowly; but the reaction was too great. My senses deserted

me, and I tumbled in a heap at the foot of the tree. In that condition

my father found me just before sunset; and although the deep snow had

rendered my fall harmless, the strain and shock told so heavily upon me

that many weeks passed before I was myself again, and I am not likely to

ever forget the very strange way in which I was rescued by a bear.

*A BLESSING IN STERN DISGUISE.*

Bruno Perry's home was in about as lonely and unattractive a spot as one

could well imagine; an unpleasant fact, the force of which nobody felt

more keenly than did Bruno himself, for he was of a very sociable

disposition and delighted in companionship. But, besides his father and

mother, companions he had none, except his half-bred collie, Steeltrap,

who had been given that name because of his sharpness, and who

recognized no other master than Bruno, to whom he was unflaggingly

devoted.

To find the Perry house was no easy task, for it lay away off from the

main road on a little road of its own that was hardly better than a

wood-path. Donald Perry was a very strange man. He was moody and

taciturn by nature, and much given to brooding over real or fancied

wrongs. Some years ago he had owned a fine farm not far from Riverton,

but owing to a succession of disputes with his neighbours, about

boundary-lines and other matters, he had in a fit of anger disposed of

his farm and banished himself and his family to the wilderness, where he

had purchased for a mere trifle the abandoned clearing of a

timber-jobber.

Poor little Bruno, at that time only ten years old, cried bitterly as

they turned their backs upon the pleasant home which he had come to love

so dearly, and his mother joined her tears with his. But his father was

not to be moved from his purpose. He had not much faith in or sympathy

for other people's feelings, or "notions," as he contemptuously called

them. The only notice he took of his wife and son in the matter was to

gruffly bid them "stop blubbering;" and they both knew him too well not

to do their best to obey.

That was full five years ago, and in all this time neither Bruno nor his

mother had had any other society than their own, except an occasional

deer-hunter or wood-ranger who might beg the favour of a night's lodging

if he happened to find the farm-house after sundown.

"Oh, mother, are we always to live in this dreadful place?" exclaimed

Bruno one day, when he knew his father to be well out of hearing. "I'm

sure I'll go clean crazy if I don't get out of it soon. Father will

have it that I must learn to run the farm, so as to take hold when he

gives up. But I'll never be a backwoods farmer; I'd rather die first!"

"Hush, hush, my boy," said Mrs. Perry, in gentle reproof. "You must not

talk that way. You don't mean what you say."

"Yes, I do, mother--mean every word of it," replied Bruno vehemently.

"I'll run away if father won't let me go with his consent."

"And what would mother do without the light of her life?" asked Mrs.

Perry tenderly, taking her son's curly head in both her hands and giving

him a fond kiss on the forehead.

Bruno was silent for a moment, and then exclaimed petulantly,--

"Why couldn't you come too, mother?"

"Ah, no, boy," was the gentle response. "I will never leave my husband,

even though my boy should leave me. But be patient yet a little while;

be patient, Bruno. I don't think God intended you for a backwoods

farmer, and if we only wait he will no doubt open a way for you somehow

or other."

"Waiting's precious poor fun, mother," replied Bruno ruefully, yet in a

tone that re-assured his mother, who, indeed, was always dreading lest

her son's longing for the stir and bustle of city life should lead him

to run away from the farm he so cordially disliked, leaving her to bear

the double burden of unshared troubles and anxiety for her darling's

welfare.

Bruno Perry was not a common country boy, rough, rude, and uncultivated.

His mother had enjoyed a good education in her youth, and possessed

besides a refined, gentle spirit that fitted her far better for the

cultured life of the city than the rough-and-tumble existence to which

the eccentricity of her husband had doomed her. Bruno had inherited

much of her fine spirit, together with no small share of his father's

deep, strong nature; and, thanks to his mother's faithful teaching and

the wise use of the few books they had brought with them into the

wilderness, was a fairly well educated lad. Every Saturday his father

drove all alone to the nearest settlement and brought back with him a

newspaper, which Bruno awaited with hungry eyes and eagerly devoured

when at last it fell into his hands. By this means he knew a little, at

all events, of the great world beyond the forest, and this knowledge

maintained at fever-heat his desire to be in the midst of it. Only his

deep affection for his mother kept him at home.

The summer just past had been an especially restless, uneasy time for

Bruno. His blood seemed fairly on fire with impatience at his lot, and

even the cool dark days of autumn brought no chill to his ardour. If

anything, they made the matter worse; for the summer, with its bright

sunny mornings, its delicious afternoon baths in the clear deep pool

beyond the barn, and its long serene evenings, was not so hard to bear,

even in the wilderness. Neither was the autumn, with its nutting

forays, its partridge and woodcock shooting, and its fruit and berry

expeditions, by any means intolerable. But the winter--the long,

dreary, monotonous Canadian winter, when for week after week the mercury

sank down below zero and rarely rose above it, when the cattle had to be

fed and watered though the hands stiffened and the feet stung with

bitter biting cold, while ears and cheek and nose were constantly being

nipped by pitiless Jack Frost!--well, the long and short of it was that

one night after Mr. Perry had gone off grimly to bed, looking much as if

he were going to his tomb, leaving his wife and son sitting beside the

big wood fire in the kitchen, Bruno drew his chair close to Mrs.

Perry's, and, slipping his hand into hers, looked up into her sweet face

with a determined expression she had never observed in him before.

"Mother," said Bruno, in low, earnest tones, "it's no use. This is the

last winter I shall ever spend in this place. I can't and won't stand

it any longer. Father may say what he likes, but he'll never make a

farmer of me."

"What will you do, Bruno dear?" asked his mother gently, seeing clearly

enough that it was no time for argument or opposition.

"Why, I'll go right into town and do something. I don't care what it

is, so long as it's honest and it brings me bread and butter. I'd

rather be a bootblack in town than stay out in this hateful place."

"But you hope to be something better than a bootblack, don't you,

dearest?" questioned Mrs. Perry, with a sad smile, for she felt that the

crisis in her boy's life had come, and that his whole future might

depend upon the way she dealt with him now.

"Of course I do, mother," he answered, smiling in his turn. "But that

will be better than nothing for a beginning, and something better will

turn up after a while."

"Very well, Bruno, so be it. Of course it's no use beginning business

as a bootblack in winter-time, when everybody is wearing overshoes. But

when the spring mud comes then will be your chance, and perhaps before

spring-time a better opening may present itself."

Bruno felt the force of his mother's clever reasoning, and with a quiet

laugh replied,--

"All right, mother: I'll wait until spring as patiently as I can."

The afternoon following this conversation Bruno thought he would go into

the forest and see if he could not get a shot at something, he hardly

knew what. The snow lay deep upon the ground, so he strapped on his

snow-shoes, and, with gun on shoulder and hatchet at belt, strode off

into the woods. He was in rather an unhappy frame of mind, and hoped

that a good long walk and the excitement of hunting would do him good.

His father's clearing was not very large, and beyond its edge the great

forest stretched away unbroken for uncounted leagues. Close at Bruno's

heels ran the faithful Steeltrap, full of joy at the prospect of an

afternoon's outing. The air was very cold, but not a breath of wind

broke its stillness, and the only interruptions of the perfect silence

were the crushing of the crisp snow beneath Bruno's broad shoes and the

occasional impatient barks of his canine companion.

Climbing the hill that rose half a mile to the north from his home,

Bruno descended the other side, crossed the intervening valley, where a

brook ran gurgling underneath its icy covering, and ascended the ridge

beyond, pushing further and further into the forest until he had gone

several miles from the house. Then he halted and sat down upon a log

for a rest. He had not been there many minutes before a sudden stir on

the part of Steeltrap attracted his attention, and, looking up, he

caught sight of a fine black fox gazing at him curiously for an instant

ere it bounded away. As quick as a flash Bruno threw his gun to his

shoulder, fired almost without taking aim, and to his vast delight the

shot evidently took effect, for the fox, after one spasmodic leap into

the air, went limping off, dragging a hind leg in a way that told

clearly enough it was broken.

"After him, Steeltrap, after him!" shouted Bruno.

The dog needed no urging on. With eager bark he dashed after the

wounded fox, Bruno following as fast as he could. Away went the three

of them at the top of their speed, the boy just able to keep his quarry

in sight, while Steeltrap was doing his best to get a good grip of his

hindquarters so as to bring him to the ground. In this fashion they

must have gone a good half mile when they came to a bear-trap, into

which the fox vanished like a shadow, while Steeltrap, afraid to follow,

contented himself with staying outside and barking vigorously.

On Bruno coming up he hardly knew what to do at first. Telling Steeltrap

to watch the door, he examined the trap all round, and satisfied himself

that there was no other way for the fox to get out. Then he made up his

mind how to act.

"Ha, ha, my black beauty! You're not going to get off so easily as

that," he said. And, kneeling down, he slipped off his snow-shoes and

stood in his moccasined feet. Then, leaning his gun against the wall of

the trap (which, I might explain, is built like a tiny log hut, having a

heavy log suspended from the roof in such a way that on a bear

attempting to enter it falls upon his back and makes him a prisoner).

Bruno took his hatchet from his belt and proceeded to crawl into the

trap, carefully avoiding the central stick which held up the loose log.

It was very dark, but he could see the bright eyes of the fox as it

crouched in the far corner. Holding his hatchet ready for a blow he

approached the fox, and was just about to strike when, with a sudden

desperate dart, it sprang past him toward the door. With an exclamation

of anger Bruno turned to follow it, and in his hasty movement brushed

against the supporting-post.

[Illustration: "BRUNO STRUCK WITH ALL HIS MIGHT AT HIS LEG."]

The mischief was done. In an instant the heavy log fell, and, although

by a quick dodge to the left Bruno saved his shoulder, the ponderous

thing descended upon his thigh, and, rolling down, pinned his right foot

to the ground as firmly as if he had been the bear it was intended to

capture.

Here, indeed, was a perilous situation for poor Bruno. Flat upon his

back, with a huge log across his ankle, what was he to do? Sitting up

he strove with all his might to push the log off, but he might as well

have tried to move a mountain. He was fastened down beyond all hope of

release without outside help.

But what hope was there of outside help? No one knew where he was, for

he had not said anything to his mother when setting out, and his father

had gone up the road some miles and would not return until dark. The

one chance was that his father, on returning home, would miss him, and

perhaps come in search of him, following the track made by his

snow-shoes. But, even if he did, that could not be for hours yet, and

in the meantime he would freeze to death; for the cold was intense, the

thermometer being many degrees below zero.

An hour passed, an hour of pain and fruitless conjecture as to the

possibility of rescue. As the evening drew near Bruno became desperate.

He gave up all hope of his father reaching him in time, and came to the

conclusion that he must either free himself or die; and he saw but one

way of getting free. The log lay across his leg just above the ankle.

His hatchet was near him. To chop the log away was utterly impossible,

but it would be an easy thing to chop off the foot that it held so fast.

Grasping the hatchet firmly in his right hand, Bruno hesitated for a

moment, and then struck with all his might at his leg. A pang of awful

agony shot through him, numbed as his nerves were with the cold. But,

setting his teeth in grim determination, he struck blow after blow,

heeding not the terrible suffering, until at length the bone snapped and

Bruno was free.

Well-nigh fainting with pain, and weakness, the poor boy, on hands and

knees, began the long and terrible journey homeward. His sufferings

were beyond description; but life was very precious, and so long as he

retained consciousness he would not give up the struggle.

Fortunately for him he had not gone more than a hundred yards over the

cold hard snow before a bark from Steeltrap announced somebody's

approach, and, just as Bruno fainted dead away, an Indian trapper, who,

by the merest chance, had come to see if the trap had taken anything,

came striding through the forest already dusky with the shadows of

night. With a grunt of surprise he approached Bruno, turned him over

gently, while Steeltrap sniffed doubtfully at his leggings; and then,

recognizing the boy's face, and not waiting to investigate into the

causes of his injury, he bound his sash about the bleeding stump, and

throwing the senseless form over his broad shoulders, set out for the

Perry house as fast as he could travel.

Not sparing himself the utmost exertion, he arrived there just as night

closed in, and, pushing into the kitchen, deposited his burden upon the

table, saying to Mrs. Perry, who came forward with frightened face,--

"Your boy, eh? Me find him 'most dead. Took him up right away, eh?"

When Mr. Perry returned, and beheld his son's pitiful and perilous

condition, for once in his life he seemed moved. "I must take him in to

the hospital in the city the first thing in the morning," said he.

"He'll die if we keep him here."

And so it came about that, watched over by his parents, Bruno was next

day carefully driven to the city, where by evening he was snugly

ensconced in a comfortable cot in the big bright ward of the hospital.

He got well again, of course. So sturdy a lad was not going to succumb

even to such injuries as he had suffered. But his foot was gone, and

there was no replacing that. And yet in time he learned to look upon

that lost foot as a blessing, for through it came the realization of all

his desires. A boy with only one foot could not, of course, be a

farmer, but he could be a clerk or something of that sort. Accordingly,

through the influence of a relative in the city, Bruno, when thoroughly

recovered, obtained a position in a lawyer's office as copying clerk.

Some years later he was able to enter upon the study of the law. In due

time he began to practise upon his own account, and with such success

that he was ultimately honoured with a seat upon the bench as judge of

the Supreme Court.

*IN PERIL AT BLACK RUN.*

There were four of them--Hugh, the eldest, tall dark, and sinewy,

bespeaking his Highland descent in every line of face and figure;

Archie, the second, short and sturdy, fair of hair and blue of eye, the

mother's boy, as one could see at a glance; and then the twins, Jim and

Charlie, the joy of the family, so much alike that only their mother

could tell them apart without making a mistake--two of the chubbiest,

merriest, and sauciest youngsters in the whole of Nova Scotia.

Squire Stewart was very proud of his boys; and looking at them now as

they all came up from the shore together, evidently discussing something

very earnestly, his countenance glowed with pride and affection.

When they drew near he hailed them with a cheery "Hallo, boys! what are

you talking about there?"

Archie's face was somewhat clouded as he answered, in quiet, respectful

tones, "Hugh and I were talking about going over to Black Run for a

day's fishing, and Jim and Charlie want us to take them too."

"What do you think about it, Hugh?" asked the squire, turning to his

eldest son.

"Well, it's just this way, sir," answered Hugh. "The little chaps will

only be a bother to us, and perhaps get themselves into trouble. We

can't watch them and watch our lines at the same time, that's certain."

"No, we won't," pleaded Jim, while Charlie seconded him with eager eyes.

"We'll be _so_ good."

"Oh, let them come," interposed Archie. "I'll look after them."

Hugh still seemed inclined to hold back; but the squire settled the

matter by saying,--

"Take them with you this time, Hugh, and if they prove to be a bother

they need not go again until they are old enough to take care of

themselves."

"All right, sir! We'll take them.--But mind you, youngsters"--turning

to the twins--"you must behave just as if you were at church."

Black Run was the chief outlet of the lake on which Maplebank, the

Stewart house, was situated. Here its superabundance poured out through

a long deep channel leading to a tumultuous rapid that foamed fiercely

over dangerous rocks before settling down into good behaviour again.

The largest and finest fish were sure to be found in or about Black Run.

But then it was full six miles away from Maplebank, and an expedition

there required a whole day to be done properly, so that the Stewart boys

did not get there very often.

The Saturday to which all four boys were looking eagerly forward proved

as fine as heart could wish, and after an early breakfast they started

off. Hugh and Archie took the oars, the twins curled up on the

stern-sheets, where their elder brother could keep his eye upon them,

and away they went at a long steady stroke that in two hours brought

them to their destination.

"Where'll be the best place to anchor, Hugh?" asked Archie, as he drew

in his oars, and prepared to throw over the big stone that was to serve

them as a mooring.

"Out there, I guess," answered Hugh, pointing to a spot about fifty

yards above the head of the run.

"Oh, that's too far away; we won't catch any fish there," objected

Archie, who was not at all of a cautious temperament. "Let's anchor

just off that point."

Hugh shook his head. "Too close, I'm afraid, Archie. The current's

awfully strong, you know, and we'd be sure to drift."

"Not a bit of it," persisted Archie. "Our anchor'll hold us all right."

But Hugh was not to be persuaded, and so they took up their position

where he had indicated. They fished away busily for some time, the two

elder boys using rods, and the twins simply hand-lines, until a goodly

number of fine fish flapping about the bottom of the boat gave proof of

their success. Still, Archie was not content. His heart was set upon

fishing right at the mouth of the run, for he had a notion that some

extra big fellows were to be caught there, and he continued harping upon

the subject until at last Hugh gave way.

"All right, Archie. Do as you please. Here! I'll take the oars, and

you stand on the bow, and let the anchor go when you're at the spot."

Delighted at thus gaining his point, Archie did as he was bidden, and

with a few strong strokes Hugh directed the boat toward the run. So

soon as they approached she began to feel the influence of the current,

and Hugh let her drift with it. Archie was so engrossed in picking out

the very best place that he did not notice how the boat was gathering

speed until Hugh shouted,--

"Drop the anchor, Archie! What are you thinking about?"

Archie was standing in the bow, balancing the big stone on the gunwale,

and the instant Hugh called he tumbled it over. The strong line to

which it was attached ran swiftly out as the boat slipped down the run.

Then it stopped with a sharp sudden jerk, for the end was reached, and

the stone had caught fast between the big stones on the bottom.

When the jerk came, Archie, suspecting nothing, was standing upright on

the bow thwart, and at once, like a stone from a catapult, he went

flying head-first through the air, striking the water with a loud

splash, and disappearing into its dark embrace.

[Illustration: "LIKE A STONE FROM A CATAPULT, ARCHIE STRUCK THE WATER

WITH A LOUD SPLASH."]

Hugh's first impulse was to burst out laughing, for he knew Archie could

swim like a seal; and when, a moment later, his head appeared above the

water, he hailed him gaily: "Well done, Arch! That was splendid! Come

back and try it again, won't you?" while the twins laughed and crowed

over their brother's amusing performance.

Archie was not disposed to take a serious view of the matter either, and

shouted back, "Try it yourself. Come along; I'll wait for you."

When, however, he sought to regain the boat, he found the current too

strong for him, and despite his utmost exertions, could make little or

no headway against it. This would not have been a cause for much alarm,

however, had not the banks of the run been lined with a dense growth of

huge rushes through which Samson himself could hardly have effected a

passage, while at their edge the water ran deep and swift. Moreover, it

still had plenty of the winter chill in it, for the time was mid-spring.

Beginning to feel a good deal frightened, Archie called out, "You'll

have to come and help me, Hugh. I can't get back to you."

Now unquestionably the proper thing for Hugh to have done was to take up

the anchor, and letting the boat drift down to where Archie was, haul

him on board. But strange to say, cool, cautious Hugh for once lost his

head. His brother's pale, frightened face startled him, and without

pausing to think, he threw off his coat and boots and leaped into the

water, where a few strenuous strokes brought him to his brother's side.

The twins, in guileless innocence of any danger, thought all this great

sport. Here were their two elder brothers having a swim without first

taking off their clothes. They had never seen anything quite so funny

before. They kneeled upon the stern-sheets, and leaned over the

gunwale, and clapped their hands in childish ecstasy over what seemed to

them so intensely diverting.

But to the two elder brothers it was very far from being diverting.

When Hugh reached Archie he found him already half exhausted, and when,

grasping him with his left hand, he strove to force him upward against

the current, he realized that ere long he would be in the same condition

himself. The strength of the current was appalling. The best that he

could do, thus encumbered by Archie, was to keep from slipping downward.

To make any headway was utterly impossible. Hoping that there might be,

perhaps, a helpful eddy on the other side of the run, he made his way

across, only to find the current no less powerful there. The situation

grew more and more serious. The dense rushes defied all efforts to

pierce them, and the boys were fain to grasp a handful of the tough

stems, and thereby keep themselves from being swept away by the

relentless current into the grasp of the fatal rapids, whose roar they

could distinctly hear but a little distance below.

Hugh says that the memory of those harrowing moments will never lose its

vividness. Blissfully unconscious of their brothers' peril, the twins

laughed and chattered in the stern of the boat, their chubby faces

beaming upon the two boys struggling desperately for life in the rushing

water. Even in the midst of that struggle Hugh was thrilled with

anxiety as he looked back at them lest they should lose their balance

and topple over into the water, and he shouted earnestly to them,--

"Take care, Jim! Take care, Charlie!" whereat they both nodded their

curly heads and laughed again.

Hugh was now well-nigh exhausted, and sorely divided in his mind as to

whether he should stay by his brother and, perhaps, go down to death

with him, or, leaving him in his desperate plight, struggle back to the

boat, if that were possible, to prevent a like catastrophe to the twins.

Poor fellow! it was a terrible dilemma for a mere lad.

Happily, however, he was spared the necessity of choosing either

alternative. Suddenly and swiftly a boat shot out from the northern

side of the run's mouth, and in it sat a brawny farmer, whose quick ear

caught at once Hugh's faint though frantic shout for help.

"Hold on there, my lads; I'll get you in a minute," he shouted back.

Sending his boat alongside that of the Stewarts', he quickly fastened

his painter to it, and then dropped down the current until he reached

the endangered boys. "Just in time, my hearties," said he cheerily.

"Now, then, let me give you a hand on board;" and grasping them one

after the other in his mighty arms, he lifted them over the side into

his own boat.

Neither Hugh nor Archie was any the worse for their wetting, and the

twins thought them even more funny-looking in their wet, bedraggled

condition than they were in the water; but neither of them is

nevertheless at all likely to forget, live as long as they may, the time

they were in such peril at Black Run.

*TOUCH AND GO.*

All the oldest inhabitants of Halifax were of one mind as to its being

the very coldest winter in their recollection. It really seemed as if

some rash fellow had challenged Jack Frost to do his best (or worst) in

the matter of cold, and Jack had accepted the challenge, with the result

of making the poor Haligonians wish with all their hearts that they were

inhabitants of Central Africa instead of the Atlantic coast of British

America.

One reason why they felt the cold so keenly was that, owing to the

situation of their city right on the edge of the ocean, with the great

Gulf Stream not so very far off, their winters were usually more or less

mild and broken.

But this particular winter was neither mild nor broken; on the contrary,

it was both steady and severe. One frosty day followed another, each

one dragging the thermometer down a few degrees lower, until at last a

wonderful thing happened--so wonderful, indeed, that the already

mentioned oldest inhabitants again were unanimous in assuring inquirers

that it had happened only once before in their lives--and this was that

the broad, beautiful harbour, after hiding its bosom for several days

beneath a cloud of mist, called by seafaring folk the "barber,"

surrendered one night to the embrace of the Ice King, and froze over

solidly from shore to shore.

Such a splendid sight as it made wearing this sparkling breastplate!

Not a flake of snow fell upon it. From away down below George's Island,

up through the Narrows, and into the Basin, as far as the eye could

reach, lay a vast expanse of glistening ice, upon which the boys soon

ventured with their skates and sleds, followed quickly by the men, and a

day or two later horses and sleighs were driving merrily to and fro

between Halifax and Dartmouth, as though they had been accustomed to it

all their life. The whole town went wild over this wonderful event.

No--not quite the whole town, after all, for there were some unfortunate

individuals who had ships at their wharves that they wanted to send to

sea, or expected ships from the sea to come in to their wharves, and

they quite failed to see any fun in sleighing or skating where there

ought to have been dancing waves.

If, however, some of the business men thought a frozen harbour an

unmitigated nuisance, none of the boys who attended Dr. Longstrap's

famous school were of the same mind. To them it was an unmixed

blessing, and they were so carried away by its taking place that they

actually had the hardihood to present a petition to the stern doctor

begging for a week's holiday in its honour. And what is still more

extraordinary, they carried their point to the extent of one whole day,

with which unwonted boon they were fain to be content.

It was on this little anticipated holiday that the event took place

which it is the business of this story to relate. Two of the most

delighted boys at Dr. Longstrap's school were Harvey Silver and Andy

Martin. They were great chums, being as much attached to each other as

they were unlike one another in appearance. They lived in the same

neighbourhood, were pretty much of the same age--namely, fourteen last

birthday--went to the same school, learned the same lessons, and were

fond of the same sports. But there the resemblance between them stopped.

Andy was hasty, impetuous, and daring; Harvey was quiet, slow, and

cautious. In fact, one was both the contrast and the complement of the

other, and it was this, no doubt, more than anything else, which made

them so attached to each other. Had their mutual likeness been greater,

their mutual liking would perhaps have been less.