ON THE TRAIL OF GOLD
And each day thereafter the sun rose earlier, and the day was longer,
and the air was warmer; and with the warmth there now came the sweet
scents of the budding earth and the myriad sounds of the deep, unseen
life of the forests, awakening from its long slumber in its bed of
snow. The moose-birds chirped their mating songs and flirted from
morning till night in bough and air, and the jays and ravens fluffed
themselves in the sun, and the snowbirds, little black and white
beauties that were wont to whisk about like so many flashing gems,
became fewer and fewer, until they were gone altogether. The poplar
buds swelled more and more in their joy, until they split like
over-fat peas, and the partridges feasted upon them.
And Mother Bear came out of her winter den, accompanied by her little
ones born two months before, and taught them how to pull down the
slender saplings for these same buds; and the moose came down from the
blizzardy tops of the great ridges, which are called mountains in the
North, and where for good reasons they had passed the winter, followed
by the wolves, who fed upon their weak and sick. Everywhere there were
the rushing torrents of melting snows, the crackle of crumbling ice,
the dying frost-cries of rock and earth and tree, and each night the
cold, pale glow of the Aurora Borealis crept farther and farther
toward the Pole in fading glory.
It was spring, and at Wabinosh House it brought more joy than
elsewhere, for there Roderick Drew joined his mother. We have not time
here to dwell on the things that happened at the old Hudson Bay Post
during the ten days after their first happy reunion--of the love that
sprang up between Rod's mother and Minnetaki, and the princess wife
of George Newsome, the factor; of the departure of the soldiers whose
task of running down Woonga ended with Rod's desperate fight in the
cabin, or of the preparations of the gold hunters themselves.
On a certain evening in April, Wabi, Mukoki and Rod had assembled in
the latter's room. The next morning they were to start on their long
and thrilling adventure into the far North, and on this last night
they went carefully over their equipment and plans to see that nothing
had been forgotten. That night Rod slept little. For the second time
in his life the fever of adventure was running wild in his blood.
After the others had gone he studied the precious old map until his
eyes grew dim; in the half slumber that came to him afterward his
brain worked ceaselessly, and he saw visions of the romantic old cabin
again, and the rotting buckskin bag filled with nuggets of gold on the
table.
He was up before the stars began fading in the dawn, and in the big
dining-room of the Post, in which had gathered the factors and their
families for two hundred years, the boys ate their last breakfast with
those whom they were about to leave for many weeks, perhaps months.
The factor himself was boisterously cheerful in his efforts to keep
up the good cheer of Mrs. Drew and the princess mother, and even
Minnetaki forced herself to smile and laugh, though her eyes were
red, and all knew that she had been crying. Rod was glad when the meal
was over and they went out into the chill air of the morning, and down
to the edge of the lake, where their big birch-bark canoe was loaded
and waiting for their departure, and he was still more relieved when
they had bade a last good-by to the two mothers. But Minnetaki came
down to the canoe with them, and when Wabi kissed her she burst into
tears, and Rod felt a queer thickening in his throat as he took her
firm little hand and held it for a moment between both his own.
"Good-by, Minnetaki," he whispered.
He turned and took his position in the middle of the canoe, and with a
last shout Wabi shoved off and the canoe sped out into the gloom.
For a long time there was silence, except for the rhythmic dip of the
three paddles. Once Minnetaki's voice came to them faintly, and they
answered it with a shout. But that was all. After a time Rod said,
"By George, this saying good-by is the toughest part of the whole
business!"
His words cleared away the feeling of oppression that seemed to have
fallen on them.
"It's always hard for me to leave Minnetaki," replied Wabigoon. "Some
day I'm going to take her on a trip with me."
"She'd be a bully fellow!" cried Rod with enthusiasm.
From the stern of the canoe came a delighted chuckle from Mukoki.
"She brave--she shoot, she hunt, she be dam' fine!" he added, and
both Rod and Wabi burst out laughing. The young Indian looked at his
compass by the light of a match.
"We'll strike straight across Lake Nipigon instead of following the
shore. What do you say, Muky?" he called back.
The old pathfinder was silent. In surprise Wabi ceased paddling, and
repeated his question.
"Don't you think it is safe?"
Mukoki wet his hand over the side and held it above his head.
"Wind in south," he said. "Maybe no get stronger, but--"
"If she did," added Rod dubiously, noting how heavily laden the canoe
was, "we'd be in a fix, as sure as you live!"
"It will take us all of to-day and half of to-morrow to follow the
shore," urged Wabi, "while by cutting straight across the lake we can
make the other side early this afternoon. Let's risk it!"
Mukoki grunted something that was a little less than approval, and Rod
felt a peculiar sensation shoot through him as the frail birch headed
out into the big lake. Their steady strokes sent the canoe through the
water at fully four miles an hour, and by the time broad day had come
the forest-clad shore at Wabinosh House was only a hazy outline in the
distance. The white youth's unspoken fears were dispelled when the sun
rose, warm and glorious, over the shimmering lake, driving the chill
from the air, and seeming to bring with it the sweet scents of
the forests far away. Joyfully he labored at his paddle, the mere
exhilaration of the morning filling his arms with the strength of a
young giant. Wabi whistled and sang wild snatches of Indian song by
turns, Rod joined him with _Yankee Doodle_ and _The Star Spangled
Banner_, and even the silent Mukoki gave a whoop now and then to show
that he was as happy as they.
One thought filled the minds of all. They were fairly started on that
most thrilling of all trails, the trail of gold. In their possession
was the secret of a great fortune. Romance, adventure, discovery,
awaited them. The big, silent North, mysterious in its age-old
desolation, where even the winds seemed to whisper of strange things
that had happened countless years before, was just ahead of them. They
were about to bury themselves in its secrets, to wrest from it the
yellow treasure it guarded, and their blood tingled and leaped
excitedly at the thought. What would be revealed to them? What might
they not discover? What strange adventures were they destined to
encounter in that Unknown World, peopled only by the things of the
wild, that stretched trackless and unexplored before them? A hundred
thoughts like these fired the brains of the three adventurers, and
made their work a play, and every breath they drew one of joy.
The lake was alive with ducks. Huge flocks of big black ducks,
mallards, blue bills and whistlers rose about them, and now and then,
when an unusually large flock was seen floating upon the water ahead
of them, one of the three would take a pot-shot with his rifle. Rod
and Mukoki had each killed two, and Wabi three, when the old warrior
stopped the fun.
"No waste too much shooting on ducks," he advised. "Need shells--big
game."
Several times during the morning the three rested from their
exertions, and at noon they ceased paddling for more than an hour
while they ate the generous dinner that had been put up for them at
Wabinosh House. The farther side of the lake was now plainly visible,
and when the journey was resumed all eyes eagerly sought for signs
of the mouth of the Ombabika, where their stirring adventures of the
winter before had begun. For some time Wabi's gaze had been fixed
upon a long, white rim along the shore, to which he now called his
companions' attention.
"It seems to be moving," he said, turning to Mukoki. "Is it
possible--" He paused doubtfully.
"What?" questioned Rod.
"That it's swans!" he completed.
"Swans!" cried the young hunter. "Great Scott, do you mean to say
there could be enough swans--"
"They sometimes cover the lake in thousands," said Wabi. "I have seen
them whitening the water as far as one could see."
"More swan as you count in twent' t'ous'nd year!" affirmed Mukoki.
After a few moments he added, "Them no swan. Ice!"
There was an unpleasant ring in his voice as he spoke the last
word, and though Rod did not fully understand what significance the
discovery held for them he could not but observe that it occasioned
both of his comrades considerable anxiety. The cause was not long in
doubt. Another half hour of brisk paddling brought them to the edge of
a frozen field of ice that extended for a quarter of a mile from the
shore. In both directions it stretched beyond their vision. Wabi's
face was filled with dismay. Mukoki sat with his paddle across his
knees, uttering not a sound.
"What's the matter?" asked Rod. "Can't we make it?"
"Make it!" exclaimed Wabigoon. "Yes--perhaps to-morrow, or the next
day!"
"Do you mean to say we can't get over that ice?"
"That's just exactly the predicament we are in. The edge of that ice
is rotten."
The canoe had drifted alongside the ice, and Rod began pounding it
with his paddle. For a distance of two feet it broke off in chunks,
then became more firm.
"I believe that if we cut our way in for a canoe length or so it would
hold us," he declared.
Wabi reached for an ax.
"We'll try it!"
Mukoki shook his head.
But for a second time that day Wabigoon persisted in acting against
the old pathfinder's judgment, something that Rod had never known him
to be guilty of before. Foot by foot he broke the ice ahead of the
canoe, until the frail craft had thrust its length into the rotten
field. Then, steadying himself on the bow, he stepped out cautiously
upon the ice.
"There!" he cried triumphantly. "You next, Rod! Steady!"
In a moment Rod had joined him. What happened after that seemed to
pass like a terrible nightmare. First there came a light cracking in
the ice under their feet, but it was over in an instant. Wabi was
laughing at him for the fear that had come into his face, and calling
his name, when with a thunderous crash the whole mass gave way under
them, and they plunged down into the black depths of the lake. The
last that Rod saw was his friend's horror-stricken face sinking in the
crumbling ice; he heard a sharp, terrible cry from Mukoki, and then he
knew that the cold waters had engulfed him, and that he was battling
for his life under the surface.
Fiercely he struck out with arms and legs in an effort to rise, and in
that moment of terror he thought of the great sheet of ice. What if he
should come up under it? In which direction should he strike out?
He opened his eyes but all was a black chaos about him. The seconds
seemed like ages. There came a splitting, rending sensation in his
head, an almost overpowering desire to open his mouth, to gasp, gasp
for air where there was nothing but death! Then his head struck
something. It was the ice! He had come up under the ice, and there was
but one end to that!
He began to sink again, slowly, as if an invisible hand were pulling
him down, and in his despair he made a last frantic effort, striking
out blindly, knowing that in another second he must open his mouth.
Even under the water he still had consciousness enough left to know
that he tried to cry out, and he felt the first gurgling rush of water
into his lungs. But he did not see the long arm that reached down
where the bubbles were coming up, he did not feel the grip that
dragged him out upon the ice. His first sense of life was that
something very heavy was upon his stomach, and that he was being
rubbed, and pummeled, and rolled about as if he had become the
plaything of a great bear. Then he saw Mukoki, and then Wabigoon.
"You go build fire," he heard Mukoki say, and he could hear Wabi
running swiftly shoreward. For he knew that they were still upon the
ice. The canoe was drawn safely up a dozen feet away, and the old
Indian was dragging blankets from it. When Mukoki turned he found Rod
resting upon his elbow, looking at him.
"That--w'at you call heem--close shave!" he grinned, placing a
supporting arm under Rod's shoulder.
With Mukoki's assistance the youth rose to his feet, and a thick
blanket was wrapped about him. Slowly they made their way shoreward,
and soon Wabi came running out to meet them, dripping wet.
"Rod, when we get thawed out, I want you to kick me," he pleaded. "I
want you to kick me good and hard, and then I'll take great pleasure
in kicking you. And ever after this, when we do a thing that Mukoki
tells us not to do, we'll kick some more!"
"Who pulled us out?" asked Rod.
"Mukoki, of course. Will you kick me?"
"Shake!"
And the two dripping, half-frozen young adventurers shook hands,
while Mukoki chuckled and grunted and gurgled until he set the others
bursting into laughter.