ALONE IN THE BEAST-HAUNTED WILDERNESS--THE SEARCH PARTY--AGONY OF
THOUGHT--A MIDNIGHT VISITOR--THE FOREST ON FIRE.
The feeling of consternation on the minds of Ralph and Rory, when they
returned to the working party and found that Allan was missing, may be
better imagined than described. Mitchell was in command of the
woodcutters, and not only he, but every one of the men, was interrogated
as to what they knew or could tell of the sudden disappearance. They
had all the self-same story to relate. They simply missed him, all at
once as it were, from his seat. They had not noticed which way he had
gone. They certainly did not hear the crack of his rifle; he had
disappeared as quietly and suddenly as if he had been spirited away, and
they very naturally imagined that he had got tired of waiting, and had
gone along down to the river and creek to meet his friends.
Any search for a trail was altogether a waste of time. Had Seth himself
been there, hardly could he have picked it up, for the gloom of night
was fast settling down over mountain, and forest, and sea.
One thing, however, they could and did do. Coming speedily to the
conclusion that Allan had gone more inland, probably after big game of
some kind, they took a middle course, 'twixt east and south, and in a
body marched upon a high bluff of barren ground, that rose up like an
island in the centre of the spruce pines. Once on the top they could
hear from all directions, if anything were to be heard. But alas! there
was no answering shout to theirs, and the only reply to their firing was
the faint echo of the rifles among the distant hills. Then a hopeless
kind of sorrow seemed to settle down on every heart.
Neither Ralph nor Rory dared to express their thoughts in words. Allan
their beloved companion was gone. The chances of their ever seeing him
alive again were few, for what might not have happened to him already,
or what might not happen to him during the night, all alone in this
beast-haunted wilderness!
Was there any comfort to be had from the thought that he was simply
lost? None. For how could they forget the many stories trapper Seth
had told them of men lost on the prairies, on the plains, or in the
woods and jungles; of how some suddenly lose all hope and heart, throw
themselves on the ground, fall into a stupor, shiver and die; of how
others lose all control over themselves, and rush hither and thither
like wild beasts in confinement, and others who, instead of keeping cool
and waiting for friendly help, become the victims of a restless mania?
It is strange how two people in an emergency like the present may be, at
precisely the same moment of time, thinking of exactly the same thing,
so that almost without the aid of words they may read each other's soul.
I have seen many instances of this, but am not psychologist enough to
be able to account for it; but here now we have Ralph turning suddenly
round to his companion, and looking for a brief moment inquiringly into
his face, and Rory replying, "No, he left his compass in his cabin this
morning, with his watch and chain."
This was an answer to the very question Ralph was about to ask.
"Heaven help him, then!" said Ralph, with one brief glance skywards.
Perhaps, reader, Heaven even then helped the utterer of that little
prayer himself, and granted him presence of mind.
Anyhow, he at once began to give orders. Ralph had what might be called
a larger and more grasping mind than Rory; the latter was as brave as
brave could be, but Ralph was ever the better man in an emergency.
"Mitchell," said our English hero, "there is no time to be lost. Take a
few men with you, and go on board at once, and report this sad business
to Captain McBain. He will know what to do as soon as it is daylight."
"Ay, ay, sir," said Mitchell, and choosing three men he ran quickly down
the side of the hill, and the spruce forest swallowed them up.
"Now, lads," continued Ralph, "go to work and collect wood, there is
plenty about; we'll build a fire on the hill here, and trust the rest to
Providence."
The men were glad to set to work, it revived hope in their hearts.
From the deck of the _Snowbird_, the eminence which Ralph and Rory
occupied could be seen by daylight, so the fire could be seen burning
steadily all the livelong night. Just after midnight McBain threw
himself wearily on his cot to snatch a few hours' rest. He was up again
before daybreak, the fire was burning brightly then.
Trapper Seth was on deck even before McBain. He was quite ready to go
over the side as soon as the order was given, so were the dogs. The
mastiff would go with his master as a matter of course, who on this
particular occasion had resumed his former useful, if not picturesque,
costume of skins.
Had one of even those few individuals in this world who neither care for
nor admire man's true friend, the dog, been on the _Snowbird's_ deck and
witnessed the quiet, eager anxious looks of great Oscar, as he took his
seat in the boat along with McBain, he could not have begrudged a word
of pity for the poor fellow.
Meanwhile, how fared it with Allan in the solitude of the forest? Brave
as he was, he could not help experiencing a feeling of awe as night
deepened around him. He determined, however, to make the most of his
position, and selecting a spot close under a rock, he collected wood and
lit a fire; there was some comfort in that, and its fitful light,
although it seemed to deepen the darkness all around him, made him feel
more cheerful. He rolled himself in his Highland plaid, and placing his
rifle handy, lay down to watch the blazing logs, without, however, any
very serious intention of going to sleep. He felt more sorry for his
companions than for himself, for when daylight returned he never doubted
for a moment that he would be able to find his way, but he would have
given a good deal to be able to relieve their anxiety. It was some
consolation to him in his loneliness to have the companionship of a
book. But reading by the firelight made him drowsy, and it was not very
long ere the book dropped from his powerless grasp, and he fell fast
asleep. When he awoke it was broad daylight, the fire had gone out, and
he felt very cold and stiff and tired. But he was sure now he would
soon regain the creek.
But the mistake he fell into was a very terrible one. He had forgotten
that he had crossed the stream, or rather that he had not re-crossed it.
When he left the ravine, therefore, and commenced walking in a direct
line north-west as he imagined, he was in reality going quite the
opposite way. He hurried along, too, at a very rapid rate, sometimes
even running, so that by the time McBain and Seth reached the hill-top,
where Rory and Ralph were, and the search was begun in earnest, there
must have been a distance of at least fifteen miles between himself and
his anxious companions.
It was probably an hour longer before Seth found the trail and Oscar
took it up. Both dogs started off on the same scent apparently, but
they had not followed it for a mile ere they seemed to disagree, the
mastiff going up to the higher ground, the Saint Bernard keeping far
lower down. Both animals were right, only the former was on the track
of deer, following the bent he had been trained to; the latter was on
his master's trail. This put Seth out, however; he naturally had more
faith in the wisdom of his own dog, so Oscar was called away, and it was
not until deer were seen that the mistake was discovered, and steps had
to be retraced in order to seek once again for the right trail, and thus
much valuable time was lost.
When, about five hours after this, Allan found himself once again at the
top of a ravine, adown which a stream meandered, "I declare," he said to
himself, "this is provoking; I've been going round in a circle, and here
I am very near the spot where I started from."
Now this was not the case. He had been walking almost in a bee-line,
and had struck quite another river.
The probability that this might be the case did cross his mind, but, he
reasoned with himself, this stream must reach the sea, and if I follow
it I am bound to come upon the beach; then, if I am not in sight of the
_Snowbird_, I have only to walk along until I do see her. But little
did he know then that the course of this river was a very winding one
indeed, and that it fell into the sea after running among a ridge of
high mountains, twenty good leagues to the eastward of the bay in which
lay the yacht. To make a resolve, however, was with Allan to keep it,
so he recommenced his journey and hurried onwards as before. He walked
all day, and as the shades of evening began to fall he found himself
very tired and weary, having eaten nothing for over four-and-twenty
hours. He had the good fortune, however, to find food in the shape of a
jack rabbit. This, after being cleaned, he rolled in clay and cooked
gipsy-fashion in the fire he had built. Then, once again rolling
himself in his plaid, he lay down to rest and to think. It must be
confessed that his position was far from an enviable one, and his
thoughts anything but pleasant. He began to fear he had made some
strange mistake, for why, if he were indeed going in the right
direction, were there no signs that his friends were seeking for him, as
he knew they must be? Should he start to-morrow and walk again
up-stream, or should he leave this river that seemed endless and plunge
once again into forest and hill? Or should he remain stationary? This
last was precisely what one in his situation ought to have done, but
already the spirit of unrest had taken possession of his mind, and he
longed for the night and the darkness to wear away, that he might resume
his toilsome march, albeit the probability dawned upon his mind that he
might wander in this wilderness until he died. Would this be the end of
all his ambitions? Would he never again sail up his own lovely lake in
the Scottish Highlands, and receive the tender greetings of his mother
and sister? He asked himself such questions over and over again till
they almost maddened him, and he was obliged at last to start up and
pace rapidly up and down in front of the fire. He walked thus for
hours, until ready to drop, then he heaped more logs on the burning
pile, and again sat down. The sounds that issued from the forest were
far from reassuring. There was a whisper of wind through the branches
of the pine-trees, there was the mournful cry of some night bird, or the
scream of some frightened bird trying in vain to escape the clutches of
the owl, and there was the barking yelp of the great grey wolf.
Again and again poor Allan threw himself down in front of the fire, and
attempted to compose himself to sleep, but all in vain. He tried to
read, but there was no connection between the author's words and his own
thoughts, so he threw the book aside at last, and pressed his palm to
his burning brow. His head ached and his eyes felt like balls of fire.
Was he going mad? The very thought that he might be caused him such
agony, that the sweat stood in on beads his forehead. He found his way
to the river side and bathed his face and head in the cool water; this
soothed him; then his troubled mind found solace in prayer, and laying
himself down once more, just like a tired child, he began to repeat to
himself psalm after psalm, and hymn after hymn, that he had learned at
school. And so gradually his eyes began to droop, and troubled dreams
took the place of waking thoughts.
And the night wore on, and on, and on.
But it still wanted many hours of morning.
So light were Allan's slumbers that the snapping of a twig or branch,
some distance away in the thicket, caused him to spring up at last and
seize his rifle. He listened, but there was no unusual sound to alarm
him. The forest he knew was filled with wolves, but he also knew from
experience that the courage of the brutes is of no very high standing,
and unless they came in numbers they would hardly dare to attack him.
He heaped branches of wood and logs on the fire nevertheless. While so
engaged there fell upon his startled ear the sounds of hurried breathing
close behind him, and next moment, even before he had time to raise his
rifle to defend himself, an animal bigger and more powerful than a
buffalo-wolf had sprung upon and rolled him to the ground.
And this animal, reader, was none other than his own great honest Oscar.
When McBain and his party, still on Allan's trail, had encamped for the
night, this good dog had stolen away and left them. Night and darkness
were nothing to him, nor did he fear bears or wolves, or anything else
that makes a forest dangerous to traverse after sundown. He was
instigated by the love he bore for his master, and guided by scent
alone.
But what a change his presence made on Allan's mind!
He felt no longer gloomy and hopeless, and as he hugged the giant Saint
Bernard, he could not help dropping tears upon his broad brow. Only
they were tears of joy, and tears that relieved his pent-up feelings and
cooled his burning brain.
If the dog could only have spoken, a most animated conversation would
have ensued forthwith.
But as soon as Oscar had relieved his feelings by a series of wild
gambols and quixotic performances that are simply indescribable, Allan
plied him with a hundred questions, and talked to him just as if the
poor animal knew every word he uttered.
"And how did you find me, dear old boy? What a blessing you are, to be
sure! But do you know I took you for a great wolf, and it is a wonder I
didn't shoot you? Oh! think what a thing it would have been if I had
killed my dear kind Oscar. It won't bear thinking about. And where did
you leave our friends? They are coming to seek for me, I know; but you,
you impatient boy! you must give them the slip and come paddling along
through the dark dreary forest to look for your beloved master. Heigho!
but I am so glad you're here. I am so happy, and I am so hungry too.
And, by the way, that reminds me I roasted a rabbit last night, Oscar,
and could hardly touch it. But we'll have it now. What have you got in
the little barrel at your collar? Coffee, I declare! Well, well,
well!"
Talking thus, Allan shared his supper with his friend, and then laid
himself down by his side, using the dog as his pillow, just as he had
often done when resting at home, among the blooming heather on the braes
of Arrandoon. That was the sweetest and most refreshing hour's slumber
ever he remembered having enjoyed.
He awoke at last like the proverbial giant refreshed, and found his
pillow sitting up alongside of him, and gazing down at him with loving
hazel eyes.
"Hullo, Oscar!" he said: "day is breaking yonder in the east; it is
almost time we were moving."