THE MYSTERIOUS CAMP FIRE
Nell decreed that the second night's camp was to be here. They could
not go over such difficult ground in the dark, besides which the only
way to go was to unpack the sled and carry the load down piecemeal.
"So," explained Nell, "we may as well stop here now, and instead of
loading the sled to-morrow morning we'll take the packs down on our
backs and then carry the sled. It'll be easiest in the end."
David was entirely willing. In fact, any plan would have pleased him
that did not involve going on just then! They set to vigorously to
clear a place this time. It was a case of axe first, and then using
their snowshoes to scrape aside the snow and tangled mess of brushwood.
They were pretty well surrounded by rocky hillocks and dense
undergrowth, but Nell was content. "We seem safe," she said.
Then, seeing David standing still, apparently listening, she asked him
what the matter was?
"It's the frozen waterfall," said the boy. "Queer it is how you miss the
noise that ought to be there. You feel as if the river was holding its
breath, just for a minute, and then it would go--_crash_! Don't you
remember what a row it makes in the summer on the rocks--you can hear it
for miles. Nell, how many miles have we come, do you think?"
Nell thought thirty--in the two days. David was disappointed, but the
girl shook her head.
"You've got to remember how the stream winds about. That's the nuisance
of it all. If you could go to Moose River as the geese and swans
fly--well----"
"Wish we could," said the boy, and then, "never mind, we are jolly lucky
to have got so far. I expect we're pretty safe now, Nell, don't you?"
"Hope so," said the girl. She could not say she believed so--yet.
The camp was a success in that it was very sheltered and cosy, but the
funniest thing happened to start with almost. The kit was unpacked for
cooking and easier conveyance in the morning. Nell put the neat bundles
of pelts in place for pillows--rather a good idea. The two had made a
good meal of bacon, beans, and tea, and were sitting very quietly in the
warmth of the fire changing their foot-gear and greasing their weary
feet. It was a moment of peace. Robin raised his head and growled
faintly in his throat. He was lying on his side, all four feet
stretched to the fire and head close to Nell. She laid her hand on his
ears, and then looked where his frowning eyes were gazing--something was
pushing through the brushwood towards the camp circle.
In a moment it appeared, and with it came a curious dry, rattling sound.
It strolled along grubbing a busy snout under dead leaves and rubbish, a
hedgehog--quite the most independent of all the forest creatures,
because no other animal will attempt to interfere with it or risk being
shot by one of the deadly spines of its queer armoured coat. Even a
lynx makes a wide circuit round a hedgehog, because if he's angry and
ejects a quill--or spine--and that sticks, nothing the wounded beast can
do will get it out. The spine goes on working itself in and in, and
often causes blood poisoning, apart from the horrible pain.
Master Hedgehog trotted into the circle of light entirely unashamed,
having no reason to fear any person. He was attracted, because the snow
was scraped away and a chance offered of finding amongst the stuff
underneath a few grubs or beetles as food in these hungry days. He
routed about with his odd little pig-like snout, taking no more notice
of the campers than he would have done of a bear, a wolf, or a skunk.
No one could touch him. Nell laid a restraining hand on Robin, who was
watching intently, but there was no need, the black dog knew all about
hedgehogs.
Presently this very self-contained visitor trotted away into the
brushwood, rustling his spines as he went. David laughed and said it
was a pity not to have shot the little pig.
"We could have baked him in the ashes, Nell," he added regretfully.
"We mustn't fire shots unless we are forced," she answered, "that would
never do. Do you remember the story Dad told us about that fox that
tried all ways to get a hedgehog in snow time and couldn't? So he
burrowed a tunnel in the snow and came up under the hedgehog and bit it
underneath. Horribly clever, foxes are. I rather love them, don't you,
Da? They are so clever."
Everything seemed to promise a peaceful night. The two got into their
fur bags in peace and quiet. The night was still, there was no sound
but the slipping of snow from branches, as the weight shifted a little
in the thaw.
And then Nell found she could not sleep. She had that kind of busy mind
that seems straining after sounds. The fact was she was anxious, though
she would not allow it. Her mind was craving to get on, and on. She
would have liked to travel all night as well as all day, but had to keep
up a sort of pretence of ease and security for fear of worrying David
too much. He would have taken it to heart, and the strain would have
been too great, joined to the hard day's pulling.
Hour after hour the girl lay still, only moving to keep the fire up.
She would have given anything to feel sleepy and to stop thinking. She
could not forget those precious leather bags that she felt against her
side; the presence of them forced her to keep on thinking about the long
miles ahead before she could put them in safety.
Presently something else began to disturb her. That queer feeling of
certainty that someone is near. She heard no special sound, yet the
sense of a presence grew and grew till the commonest noises made her
jump. When the faint grey of dawn began to creep around the little
camp, she crawled out of her bag and stood up. Robin sprang up too and
shook himself, then he stretched a very long stretch and yawned, looking
at his mistress in an interested way.
Nell took him by the ears and whispered to him that he must stop and
look after David. She was going a very short way, but he must guard the
camp. Robin sank down against the boy's side with a sigh. He wanted to
go, but he knew his duty. The girl looked to the priming of her pistol,
then she stole away alone, into the forest.
She made a circle round the camp, and when she came to her
starting-point followed on again in a still wider circle. After that
the high rocks forming the gates of the waterfall stopped a complete
circle. She turned and went back outside her own track.
It was difficult, because of the roughness, but she persevered, to be
rewarded, for quite suddenly she came upon the ashes of a little camp
fire. Kneeling down she felt the patch, the ashes were still warm.
The place lay to the north-west of their own camp--that was, on the back
track behind them. Whoever made that fire was following the sled pullers
most likely and was travelling light himself, for there was no trace of
sled runners. Nell sought very anxiously for his trail both to and from
the fire, but it was purposely confused--concealed in the shrewdest way.
Just here and there Nell saw obvious "spoor" of human passage. Then it
was gone.
The fire was very small and round, showing the camp of a "sour-dough,"
as an experienced hand is called in the north. But no more could she
feel certain of. There was another very odd thing. It did not appear
that this traveller had found the camp of the fugitives. He had stopped
for the night in this place, and presumably gone on before the break of
day.
The girl comforted herself with this reflection. It might be a trapper
on his own business passing from one district to another, but
unconscious of her and David. She would have liked to go back along the
river trail to look for his spoor, but time was pressing seriously. As
she went "home" with flying feet she cogitated whether it would be wise
to tell David, and ended in telling him. After all, they were doing the
job in partnership!
She woke him from sound sleep when she got in, and told him while the
fire was burning up. He said nothing for a few minutes. Then he made a
practical suggestion.
"If we take Robin to that camp fire and start him on the scent, he'll
follow it up and be on the man all right."
"But," said Nell firmly, "we are running away from the trapper. What's
the sense of going after him?"
David began to laugh, and laughed so much in a silent and suppressed
manner that he rolled over. Robin looked at them both with such a
puzzled gaze under his frowning forehead that it made them both laugh
the more. After that they felt better, and decided to go ahead,
thanking God if the man had passed them and gone racing on under a
misapprehension. There was a lot of heavy work to do in the portage of
the sled and packs, Nell knew they would not gain very much in
distance--the pursuer might, of course, get on miles before them.
Snowshoes were very little use at the present, so they slung them on
their backs in readiness, and after breakfast made tracks for the lower
reach of the river, carrying the bundles of pelts. The stream was
winding and very rugged altogether. The first falls were followed by
another wild and rocky gorge, where the water must race furiously down
in summer time. It was some distance before the two could force a way
down to a place that looked like a new start, and plain sailing, as it
were, for the fresh road. But they did come to it at last, and the snow
was smooth and spotless. No one had been before them, certainly, on the
river.
They put the bundles in safety and went back. The way back did not seem
so far--it never does, even in a land of roads. The camp was untouched,
and again they loaded themselves with as much as they could carry.
Finally they returned for the sled and the sleeping bags. Then Robin
went with them. Up till then he had been guarding the family property,
much against his will, but duty demanded the sacrifice of his feelings.
Then, after a rest and a meal, they started again on the untrodden road.
Nor was it very easy going on a fresh trail of softening snow. They
made themselves very hot, but they were hopeful and contented, because
Nell was sure they would reach the lake that day, and somehow the lake
appeared to them a landmark--a great gain--a sort of half-way house! It
would not be half-way, hardly a quarter of the way, but at any rate it
was a bad quarter, for the farther they went the nearer they must come
to friends and human habitations.
It was during this tough bit of the journey that Nell told David about
the post-house and the cache, that is to say, the reason before hinted
why they had so little food with them. On the other side of the lake
which they must soon cross was a small shack. Just one little room with
a rusty stove and a bunk or two. It had been set up for the convenience
of trappers in the coldest time, and was used by any of them going east
to Moose River.
Andrew Lindsay had told his daughter that close to one angle of this hut
he had made a cache. That is to say, he had buried in a small pit and
covered over invisibly a certain amount of canned food, with tea,
tobacco, candles, matches, and such little matters as knives, an axe,
and so on. A trapper learns by experience that he may be left with
nothing, so, like a squirrel hiding nuts, he makes his cache for a
reserve store.
Nell was counting on this; moreover, it had more than once occurred to
her that, in case of dangerous pursuit she might cache the money she was
carrying, but that would be decided by circumstances.