Terrors of the Night
It was upon the impulse of the moment that Marion had agreed to go
to The Gap with the half-breed girl. Half an hour later she almost
repented of her hasty decision. She knew very little about Zell, and
she wondered whether she could trust to her guidance. This feeling of
doubt, however, vanished as they pulled out from Big Chance on the
first lap of their long run. It was near midnight, and the full moon
was just rounding the massive northeast shoulder of the Golden Horn.
The little mining camp was shrouded in deep shadow. Silence reigned
in each log cabin, and not a living creature was to be seen. Zell’s
father, Siwash Sam, had made speedy preparations for the trip, and had
given his daughter implicit directions, telling her which trail to
follow to shorten the journey by several miles; to be on the lookout
for storms on the mountain; and to be careful when rounding the rocky
spur of the high ridge leading to The Gap.
“Do you think that Zell can manage, all right?” Marion asked as she
took her place upon the little toboggan.
“Sure,” Sam replied. “Zell kin handle them dogs better than anyone
else. She’s a holy terror when she hits the trail. Ye needn’t have any
fear about her, Miss. Mebbe you’ll be as good as she is before ye git
back.”
It did not take Marion long to find how true were the man’s words. No
sooner were they beyond the limits of Big Chance than Zell’s entire
nature seemed to change. No longer was she the quiet, timid girl
she had known in the cabin watching by Tim’s side. Instead, she was
transformed into a strong, confident guide, resourceful, alert, and
full of abounding energy. The spirit of the wild seemed to possess her.
She raced behind the toboggan, urging on the dogs, her whip cracking at
times like pistol shots.
For miles the trail led through a sparsely wooded region where the
trees cast long sombre shadows upon the light snow. The dogs settled
into a steady jog where the ground was level, but raced like the wind
down every hill. Then Zell would jump upon the tail of the toboggan and
whoop aloud with glee to the speeding animals. They seemed to imbibe
much of the enthusiasm of their young mistress, and upon reaching
the valley below they would glance quickly around as if for a word
of approval, which was never lacking. They were four noble brutes,
huskies, of the Mackenzie River breed, accustomed to great hardships,
and possessed of marvellous endurance. Savage they were to all except
their owners. To Zell they were harmless. They obeyed her slightest
wish, and she could handle them even when her father and mother failed.
A word or a lifted hand from her had more effect than a shower of blows.
Marion had plenty of time to think as she sat upon the toboggan,
comfortably wrapped in a big wolf-skin robe. She was glad now that
she had undertaken the journey. There was much at stake, she was well
aware, and she often wondered how it would all end. What she should
do upon reaching The Gap, she had no idea. But somewhere beyond was
her father, fleeing from place to place, with that expression of a
hunted creature in his grey eyes. She had seen it for a few seconds as
he bounded from the cabin that night into the heart of the storm. She
had thought about it much since, and it had puzzled her. And following
her father was John North, the man who had avowed his love for her.
Would they meet somewhere in that desolate wilderness? What would be
the outcome? And then there was Bill, the Slugger. Had he already
started forth upon his diabolical quest? Perhaps he would creep upon
the sergeant and the constable asleep around their camp-fire at night.
The thought was terrible. Such a thing had taken place before, she well
knew, and it might happen again. In vain she racked her brain in an
effort to devise some plan to avert a tragedy, and perhaps two.
For several hours they continued on their way, and at last when the
summit of an extra heavy hill had been reached, Zell called a halt.
The dogs were glad to stop, so flopping down upon the trail they
began to clear particles of snow and ice from their feet with their
teeth. Nearby was a clump of fir trees, several of which were dead and
afforded excellent fuel. It did not take Zell long to prepare a fire,
over which she placed a kettle filled with snow. While this latter was
melting, she unpacked her supply of provisions and laid them out near
the fire. Marion, standing watching, was pleased at the girl’s deftness
and neatness. She knew exactly what to do, and when the meal was ready,
she served the simple repast with an admirable grace.
“I suppose you were taught to cook at the mission school,” Marion
remarked, helping herself to a piece of moose steak which Zell had
just fried. “You certainly learned your lessons well.”
The girl smiled, while an expression of pleasure shone in her eyes.
“Mrs. Norris always taught us,” she explained. “We took turns cooking
at the school. I won several prizes for baking bread, and making cake.
Tim was very fond of my cooking.”
“You were able to teach your mother many things, I suppose, when you
went back home?”
“Not much. My mother, you see, was from the Coast, and the women there
are good cooks. She was a Chilcat Indian, and her mother taught her.
I have heard my father say that he married her because she was such a
good cook. I guess, though, he was just in fun.”
“Does the missionary at The Gap do his own cooking now?” Marion asked.
“I suppose he does, Miss. But I don’t believe he eats much, anyway.
He didn’t when we were at the school, as he was always thinking and
writing so much. And now that he is alone maybe he eats less, for he
must be working a great deal.”
“What does he write about?”
“He makes books for the Indians. He writes hymns, prayers, and the
Bible in their own language. He has taught many of them to read.”
“Do the Indians use the books?”
“Oh, yes. They carry them with them to their hunting-grounds, and sing
the hymns around their campfires at night.”
“But you told me that the Indians have left the mission.”
“In a way they have, but they like to read the Bible and sing the
hymns when out in the hills. I was with my father and mother last
winter when we came to a band of Indians a long way off. That night
they sang, men, women, and children. It was great to hear them.”
“Does the missionary know of this?”
“I believe he does, and it makes him hope that they have not forgotten
what he has taught them, and that some day they will go back to The
Gap.”
For a while they thus sat and talked, Marion asking many questions, to
which the girl readily replied. They were about to resume their journey
when Zell gave a slight start, and looked anxiously back over the
trail. She listened intently, her body tense and alert.
“What is it?” Marion somewhat anxiously asked.
“I thought I heard a noise, Miss. It sounded like the crack of a
driver’s whip or a rifle shot. But I guess I was mistaken. One can hear
a long way up here in the hills when the air is so clear.”
“Perhaps there is someone on the trail behind us,” Marion suggested.
“Indians travel this way, do they not?”
“Yes, this is one of their favorite trails. But there are no Indians
coming from Big Chance to-day.”
Nothing more was said about the matter as they continued on their way.
But Marion noticed that Zell was more quiet, and indulged in no loud
cracking of the whip. Whenever they had reached the top of a hill or
had crossed an inland lake, or a stretch of wild meadow, she noticed
that the girl would stop, and look keenly back over the way they had
just come. This happened so often that she became uneasy. The intense
silence of the land was affecting her, causing her to become nervous.
A feeling of impending calamity stole into her soul, which try as she
might she could not banish. It was with her all through the short
winter day. She tried to throw it off by running with Zell behind the
sled. This helped some, but the feeling still remained.
It was a bright day, and the dogs made excellent progress. They loped
forward, anxious for camping time when they would receive their food.
Marion was fascinated with the scenery of the country. Off in the
distance rose great snow-enshrouded mountains, aglow with the light of
the sun. Above, towered the dazzling peak of the Golden Horn, which
seemed so near, yet she knew it was leagues away. At times the trail
led along the side of the mountain where they could look down upon the
pointed tops of the trees in the valley below, resembling countless
spears poised heavenward.
Only once did they halt to rest, eat a frugal meal, and then on and
up again. Marion was becoming weary, although Zell seemed as fresh as
ever. Slowly the sun sank westward, and at length disappeared below
a far-off peak. Ere long darkness stole over the land, and night
approached with rapid strides. Soon it would be camping time, and Zell
was watching for a good place to pass the night when a sound fell upon
their ears, which caused Marion to give a gasp of fright, and turn
impulsively to her companion.
“What is that?” she asked, her body trembling.
“A wolf,” was the quiet reply. “We must make camp at once, and build a
big fire. Ah, here is a good place with plenty of wood.”
In a few minutes the dogs were unharnessed, the fire built, and the
blazing flames leaping high into the air.
From time to time came that long-drawn, blood-curdling howl, the cry
of the leader to the pack. It seemed nearer now, and Marion shuddered
with apprehension. Even Zell’s face expressed her concern. From a
pocket in her dress she brought forth a revolver, and examined it
carefully. Marion had no idea that the girl carried such a weapon, and
it surprised her.
“Do you often have use for that?” she asked.
“It is handy sometimes,” was the reply. “One never knows what might
happen. There are two-legged wolves in this country, and I fear them
more than I do the four-legged ones. A girl has to protect herself, you
know.”
Marion was beginning to realize something of the undercurrent of life
in the North. Hitherto, she had known only the surface. There were
deeps which she had not sounded, but of which her companion seemed
fully aware. She said nothing, however, but assisted in building the
little lean-to which would be their abode for the night. When this had
been erected, fir boughs laid down, and the blankets and the wolf-skin
robe laid out, she was glad to rest. No longer did the howl of the
wolves sound upon their ears. The fire was bright, and the snug abode
comfortable.
After they had eaten their supper and the dogs were fed, they wrapped
themselves up for the night. Both were tired, so it was not long before
they were sound asleep. The dogs curled themselves up near the fire and
enjoyed the genial heat. Silence reigned, save for the crackling of
the burning sticks, or the occasional snapping of a frost-stung tree.
The night was cold, although not a breath of wind stirred the trees.
The great vault of heaven was thickly studded with stars, for the moon
had not risen to pale their glory. The Northern Lights sent out their
wavering streamers as they marched and countermarched in silent,
mysterious battalions.
And while the tired ones slept, gaunt, hairy forms, with fiery lolling
tongues, and blazing eyes, loped along the upper ridge, and approached
the camp. The wolves were hungry, for food was scarce. Only in an
extreme emergency did these somewhat cowardly creatures venture near
human abodes. It was the dogs which attracted them now. They were in
desperate straits, as no deer, moose, or any living thing had crossed
their path for days. Only when starving would they unite, for strength
and safety lay in numbers. There were but twelve of them thus banded
together, but mad with hunger, they were a pack to be dreaded.
The dogs scented them, and their savage growls and whines of fear
aroused the sleeping women. Zell was first awake, and in an instant
realized what was the matter. The fire was burning low, so seizing
several dry sticks she threw them upon the hot coals. In another minute
Marion was on her feet, looking fearfully to the right among the trees
where the wolves were gathered. As the fire increased in strength,
and the bright flames illumined the camping grounds for several rods
around, she was enabled to detect dim, slinking forms not far away.
“Will they attack us?” she asked, laying a nervous hand upon Zell’s arm.
“Not likely now,” was the reply. “They are after the dogs, but this
fire will keep them back. Look at that big, bold brute there,” and she
pointed to a large wolf which had ventured threateningly near. “I’m
going to try a shot at him.”
Drawing forth her revolver, she took a quick steady aim, and fired. A
yell of pain split the night, as the brute leaped into the air, and
vanished into the darkness.
“I hit him,” Zell exulted, while a smile wreathed her face. “I wish I
had my rifle, then I could easily settle the whole pack.”
“Do you suppose you killed him?” Marion asked.
“Oh, no, he was too far away. If I had killed him, the rest of the
wolves would be eating him up by now. I must not waste any more
cartridges upon them at that distance, as I shall need them if they
come too close.”
For some time, which seemed to Marion very long, they watched and
waited for the next move on the part of the lurking brutes. The dogs
huddled together close to the little lean-to, either whining with
fear, or growling with anger. Their implacable enemies were just
beyond that fire-lit circle, and they knew only too well the object
of their visit. The dogs were ever ready and willing to fight with
one another, for there was always a chance to win. But against those
gaunt, savage, and famine-stricken fiends of the wilderness they would
be helpless. Whenever the wolves approached nearer, they shrank closer
to the women for protection. Bolder now became the enemy, and although
Zell fired two more shots into their midst, it only deterred them
for a few minutes. They circled the encampment several times, always
drawing nearer, especially back of the lean-to. The situation was
becoming critical, for at any minute they might hurl themselves upon
the helpless ones crouching near the fire. Zell kept her revolver in
readiness, although she was well aware how little she could do should a
rush ensue.