THE END OF THE TRAIL
I had thought the matter out many times already and had decided to set
forth well provided with food, with all my weapons, my necessary
utensils, and a supply of tanned skin, for I had no idea of how far I
might have to tramp or how long I might be on the journey.
Few as were my possessions, yet I found that to carry them all would be
impossible and that many things which would be of great help to me would
have to be left behind. Among these were the pot and the grindstone and
the bear-skin robe, and as I thought with regret of abandoning these a
scheme came to me of utilizing Lobo as a pack-horse. But tame and
good-natured as he was, the wolf would have none of this, and snarled,
snapped, and bristled threateningly when I started to strap a load upon
his back by way of experiment.
After all, the objects I must leave were not essential, and without them
I would be far better off and more comfortable than during the early
part of my wilderness life. The bear-skin, to be sure, would be a great
comfort during the chilly spring nights, but I was well clad and a
hare-skin undercoat would keep me warm enough, while I could broil my
food, or even boil it in birch-bark dishes as well as I could cook it in
the pot. The grindstone would be utterly useless, I knew, but I had
grown to depend upon it so much and by its aid had been able to solve so
many problems that I dreaded to think of being without it. However, it
was useless to fret over the matter; the less I carried the sooner I
would be out of the woods, and I had now become so self-reliant and so
accustomed to overcoming difficulties that I had little fear of
suffering on the way.
When at last I was sure the weather had settled and when the soggy,
water-soaked ground had dried sufficiently to make walking possible, I
gathered up my weapons, shouldered my packs, closed the door of the
cabin which had sheltered me so long, and, with Lobo trotting beside me,
bade good-by to my wilderness home.
At a turn of the old trail I stopped for a last look at the little hut
and a lump rose in my throat at thought of leaving the place forever. It
had served me well, the woods and waters had been kind to me, and I was
about to turn my back on the only home I had known for many months and
to start into the unknown.
It was a bright spring morning; birds were twittering among the swelling
buds of trees and bushes, the sun was warm, and all about were signs of
nature springing into life and beauty once more.
The broad green leaves of skunk cabbage spread above the black peat by
the lake, jack-in-the-pulpits reared their straight stems and unfolding
leaves beside rocks and fallen trees, pale pink and lavender hepaticas
peeped through the fallen leaves on sunny slopes, and trailing-arbutus
vines were rich with odorous, waxen blooms. It was a day to make one
happy and light-hearted, to fill man or beast with the very joy of
living, and Lobo gamboled and frolicked about, chasing imaginary rabbits
into the thickets, yelping at the red squirrels who mocked him from the
branches overhead, and betweenwhiles trotting back and forth with keen
nose to earth as if seeking for some trail to follow.
I also felt that it was good to be afield on such a glorious morning,
and, laughing at Lobo’s antics, talking to him as to an intelligent
being, whistling gaily, and filled with happiness as I realized that
each step was bringing me nearer to the end of my trail, I swung rapidly
ahead through the forest.
It was not long before we came in sight of the lonely, deserted
buildings I had found during the winter, and as Lobo saw them he
bristled up, howled, and, placing his tail between his legs, slunk at my
heels. Although I knew that I must pass this spot on my way, yet I
dreaded to approach it, and Lobo’s actions added to my unreasonable fear
and gave me a sort of “creepy” sensation, for somehow I could not shake
off the foolish idea that he saw or heard things which were invisible to
me.
Perhaps it was the shadow of death which hung over it, perhaps it was
the contrast of the lifeless gray buildings with the bright sunshine and
joyous spring air, or perhaps it was pure imagination on my part, but
somehow the place seemed uncanny and unnatural. In the little space
between the buildings the gaunt, bare cross rose upward, sharply
outlined against the dark background of the distant woods, and now I saw
that round about it were many smaller boards projecting from the ground.
For some minutes I hesitated, standing within the shelter of the woods,
while Lobo whined cringingly beside me, for I could scarce bring myself
to step forth into the clearing, to pass that tiny graveyard, and to run
the gauntlet of those blank, staring windows and doors. But pass them I
must if I was to reach the farther side where the trail led into the
forest, and finally, summoning up my courage and calling myself a fool
and worse, I started forward.
I had never believed in haunted houses, I scoffed at ghosts and
everything that savored of the supernatural, and I had no patience with
superstitions, but, ridiculous as it seems to me now, I could not help
glancing furtively to right and left as we walked through that deserted
village in the wilderness and gave the pitiful little graveyard a wide
berth. I tried to argue with myself, to pooh-pooh my own foolishness,
and to try to make myself believe it was merely the dread of smallpox
that troubled me, and in a measure I succeeded. We had passed the
graveyard, had left most of the buildings behind, and were approaching
the entrance to an old wood road on the farther side. I breathed an
involuntary sigh of relief to think that in a moment more we would be in
the woods with the village behind us. Suddenly, as we came abreast of
the last house with the patch of dead corn behind it, the door of the
building swung open with a bang, and the dried stalks of corn swayed and
rustled as if some object was tearing through them. In my heart I knew
it was but a sudden gust of wind, but as Lobo uttered a melancholy howl
and dashed past me I lost all control of myself and, taking to my heels,
tore after him as fast as I could run. Not until I was a hundred yards
down the road and the village was out of sight did I cease my wild race,
and, overcoming my silly fright, seated myself upon a stump to regain my
breath.
Lobo was nowhere to be seen, but presently he came trotting back along
the old road, looking heartily ashamed of himself and wagging his tail
and fawning about me as if to ask forgiveness for his behavior.
It all seems very childish and unpardonably silly of me, as I look back
upon it now, but at the time it was real and a most unpleasant
experience. Many animals seem to have an instinctive dread of a spot
where human beings have lived and died. Lobo undoubtedly possessed such
a fear, and I had lived so long in the woods and had been such a close
companion of the wolf that perhaps I had developed this same unreasoning
terror—it is the only excuse I can offer, the only way I can account for
my sensations on that spring morning.
But the place was left behind. Our spirits rose again and, shouldering
my packs, I resumed my journey.
The trail was easy to follow, for it had evidently once served as a
logging-road, and for hour after hour we plodded on. That such a road
must inevitably lead to the settlements I felt sure, for no one would
have wasted time and labor in cutting a wide road for hauling lumber
unless it led out of the forest. Even if it led me to an isolated
sawmill or a rude lumbermen’s camp it would serve my purpose.
At noon we stopped to rest and ate our midday meal of venison, and once
more started on. My back ached from carrying the unaccustomed load of my
packs, and my feet were sore. I had never walked long distances since
finding the log cabin, and during most of the time I had traveled on
snow-shoes.
The road wound and turned about and in several places forked or
branched, and I was often in doubt as to which trail to take. The only
way was to investigate, and I went many miles out of my way, only to
find that these side trails led merely to cleared spots where the trees
had been felled and cut for timber.
But while it was disappointing to be led astray, yet the presence of the
cleared spaces and the diverging roads encouraged me greatly, for I knew
that I was no longer in the heart of the vast wilderness, but was in a
district which had been visited by large numbers of men and it could not
be very far from the outposts of civilization.
How long a time had passed since the road had been cut or the lumbermen
had labored here I could only guess, but the size of the young shoots
which had sprung up, the moss and lichens which had grown upon the
rotting stumps and discarded branches of the felled trees, and the
thickets or brush which had partially obliterated the roadway convinced
me that no active work had been carried on here for several years. This
rather surprised and discouraged me, for I could see no reason for
abandoning work, since there was an abundance of good timber still
standing, and I rather feared that only a deserted camp or a burned and
abandoned mill might lie at the end of my journey. However, I argued
that there were many other reasons which might account for the matter.
Perhaps, I thought, the lumbermen had been stealing timber from
government land and had been driven off, or possibly better
transportation facilities in some other district had made lumbering less
profitable here. Finally I contented myself with the thought that even
if I found no inhabited camp or village at the end of the trail there
must, at least, be a large river, an old railway, or a well-marked
lumber road leading out to civilization, and once I struck this my way
would be easy.
About mid-afternoon I heard the sound of rushing water ahead, and a few
moments later we came to the banks of a river with the road leading
directly to the water’s edge. Before me stretched a hundred feet of
tumbling, foaming torrent, and on the farther bank, opposite to where I
stood, I could plainly see the continuation of the old wood road.
I was as badly off as ever, and, thoroughly disheartened, I threw myself
upon the ground. Evidently to follow the road and escape from the forest
I must cross the stream, and I realized how inexcusably stupid I had
been not to have thought of this contingency before. I might have known
that the lumber road had been used in winter and that on the ice the
loads of timber could be hauled across brooks and rivers which would be
impassable now, but not until I had been brought face to face with such
conditions did the idea enter my head.
No doubt, I thought, the stream might be forded later in the season, for
it was now abnormally high with the spring freshets. But I was in no
mood to wait for weeks, or perhaps months, for the water to fall enough
to allow me to wade across, and I knew that to attempt to swim through
the icy current would be suicidal and would result in the loss of my
outfit, even if I reached the other side alive. There seemed to be but
one thing to be done, which was to walk up the stream to some narrower,
shallower spot where it could be forded, and then, after crossing,
retrace my way on the farther side until I once more came to the road.
Sooner or later I knew that I must find a point where I could cross in
safety, and as anything was better than sitting here and cursing my
luck, I rose and proceeded up the river.
Had the stream been slightly lower I could have followed its shores at
the edge of the woods and traveling would have been comparatively easy,
but with the river in flood the water swept to the trees along the
borders and I was compelled to make my way through the forest.
For hour after hour I trudged steadily on, encouraged somewhat by
finding the river was decreasing in width and that here and there ledges
and boulders jutted above the surface of the waters.
The sun was sinking low in the west, the shadows were lengthening, and I
was considering the advisability of making camp for the night when Lobo
uttered a sharp yelp, lifted his nose in the air, and rushed off
diagonally through the woods. Feeling sure that something unusual must
have attracted him and with a half-formed hope that it was a human being
or an occupied habitation, I forgot my weariness and hurried after him.
The wolf was now out of sight, but I could hear him yelping a short
distance away, and presently I saw him standing at the edge of the
woods, wagging his tail and jumping about as if greatly excited. Beyond
him was open sky and my heart beat fast with anticipation, for I knew
that he was at the edge of a clearing which indicated the presence of
man.
A moment later I was by his side and, looking from the woods, gasped in
astonishment, for at the farther side of the open space stood my own log
cabin!
For a few seconds I stood motionless, feeling as if I had taken leave of
my senses, and I rubbed my eyes and stared again to see if my vision had
not played me false. It seemed incredible that I should once more be
gazing at the same spot from which I had departed so many hours before,
but there was not the slightest doubt about it. There stood the hut I
knew so well. I recognized the familiar trees and landmarks about it,
and beyond, glimmering like molten gold in the rays of the setting sun,
were the distant waters of the lake.
I was thoroughly discouraged, tired, and disgusted to think that I had
merely traveled in a vast circle, that since early morning I had been
tramping for many weary miles over the old road when by following the
river down for an hour or two I could have reached the end of the road
where it was barred by the stream.
Hungry, footsore, and exhausted, I reached the cabin, tossed my
belongings on the floor, and threw myself on my bunk.
Then, as Lobo, whining, licked my hand and looked inquiringly into my
face, I rose, started the fire, and cooked our simple evening meal. The
food did much to revive my spirits, and I comforted myself by thinking
that, after all, the cabin was a far better spot to spend the night than
an open camp; that I was no worse off than before, and that, knowing it
was useless to follow the old road, I could seek a spot to cross the
river close to my hut.
The next morning I made my way to the river, which I now knew was the
outlet to the lake. I examined it carefully for a spot at which I might
cross, but at its narrowest point it was far too wide and turbulent.
Then it came to my mind that I might be able to ford the inlet to the
lake, but as I remembered the wild, rough country which bordered the
lake on its farther side I abandoned this idea. The next instant Lobo
leaped up with a startled growl as I gave a shout of gladness, for I had
thought of a way to solve the difficulty.
It was so simple, now I had thought of it, that I marveled it had not
occurred to me sooner, for my scheme was to finish the raft I had begun
the preceding autumn, cross the lake near the outlet, and thus reach the
farther shore of the stream.
So firmly had I been convinced that I could _walk_ out of the wilderness
by following the old trail that my original idea of a raft had been
completely forgotten, but now that it had come to my mind, I lost no
time in getting to work.
The logs which I had cut with so much labor were still where I had left
them when I had met with my accident. I shuddered when I saw the heavy
timber which had pinned me down and remembered the tortures I had
suffered.
I would be more careful this time and would make haste slowly. As I was
far better equipped to build a raft now than when I had first attempted
the undertaking, I had little fear of the outcome.
My life in the woods had added greatly to my health and strength and I
found little difficulty in handling logs which had formerly resisted all
my efforts.
But despite this, many hours were required to cut the logs by the slow
process of burning, for I was obliged to cut several, since those which
I had rolled to the lake in the autumn had been carried away by the ice.
Then came the hard, tedious work of rolling the logs to the water, but
at the close of the second day I had the satisfaction of seeing eight
lengths of logs floating on the lake and securely moored to the bank.
I had learned much during the months which had passed since I first
reached the lake, and I went about building my raft with far greater
confidence and greater skill than would have been possible the preceding
autumn.
Slipping strong pieces of saplings beneath the floating logs, I lashed
the projecting ends securely to corresponding crosspieces above the
logs, and I also passed withes of willow around these pieces between
each two logs. To draw these lashings taut and to secure the logs firmly
I slipped short sticks through the withes, twisted them tightly, and
bound them in position, and as the wood and lashings swelled in the
water the strips of bark and twisted withes grew as hard and tight as
wire.
But even then I was not satisfied, for I found that there was
considerable play in the logs, and that instead of remaining rectangular
in form the raft had a tendency to assume a diamond-shape.
As I had no wish to be dropped into the icy waters of the lake on my
voyage, I placed numerous saplings diagonally across the raft, from
corner to corner, lashed these firmly to the logs and crosspieces,
secured another row of diagonal pieces above these in the opposite
direction, and then found that the raft was as stiff, strong, and solid
as one could wish.
Nearly a week had passed while I labored at my rude craft when at last
it was finished and I prepared to set forth. I felt as if I was about to
start on a voyage of discovery. Indeed, it was in truth a voyage of
discovery, for beyond the waters of the little lake was a new and
unknown land which I felt held greater reward for me than Columbus
sought for when he sailed westward in his caravels.
And, like Columbus, I had trouble with my crew, and mutiny threatened
even before the voyage commenced, for Lobo refused to go aboard and no
amount of coaxing, threats, or argument would induce him to change his
mind.
I hated to leave him behind, but I could scarce afford to remain a
Crusoe of the wilderness on his account, and, thinking he might overcome
his fears when he saw I was actually abandoning him, I cast off the
fastenings of the raft and with a long pole pushed it a few yards from
shore.
Instantly the wolf set up a dismal howl and ran up and down the shore,
evidently in great distress at seeing me depart, and, feeling that he
had learned a lesson, I pushed the end of the raft against the bank. But
no sooner did the logs grate upon the beach than the rascal retreated to
a safe distance and, squatting upon his haunches, grinned at me with his
great red tongue hanging from his mouth.
Evidently the wolf considered it was some sort of a game and had no
intention of taking the matter seriously, and, somewhat irritated at his
behavior, I again poled the raft away from shore. For a few moments Lobo
looked at me curiously, evidently expecting me to return, and then,
finding the space of water was steadily widening between raft and shore,
he plunged into the lake and swam after me. I at once ceased to propel
the raft and waited for the wolf to come alongside and clamber aboard,
but he showed no intention of doing this and kept well out of reach,
evidently preferring to trust to his own powers rather than to my
makeshift vessel.
The raft floated buoyantly and the crisscross layers of saplings kept my
feet dry and above the water which slopped over the logs and I was soon
well out upon the lake. And then I discovered that I had overlooked a
most important matter and that by my carelessness and short-sightedness
I was in imminent peril.
I had trusted to poling the raft across the lake, but the bottom was now
beyond my reach, I had no oars or paddle, and my raft was drifting
steadily in the sweep of the current toward the outlet of the lake.
Furiously I strove to paddle the clumsy craft with the pole, but my
efforts only served to whirl the raft round and round, and each moment
it was drawing nearer to the rushing river and its speed was increasing.
I was now filled with real terror, and not without reason, for the
stream flowed from the lake in rocky rapids and I realized that in a few
moments I would be drawn into the torrent, that my raft would be dashed
to pieces on the jagged rocks, and that I would be left struggling
hopelessly in the icy current.
Then, just as the raft shot toward the maelstrom my pole touched bottom,
I threw all my weight upon it with a last, despairing shove, the raft
lurched, tipped, and plunged, and the next instant I was thrown,
spluttering and surprised, but safe, into a shallow backwater.
Scrambling to my feet, for the water was scarce six inches deep, I
splashed ashore, and, glancing back, saw my raft, splintered and rent,
bobbing among the foam and rocks of the rapids.
It was a close shave, but I had accomplished my purpose and at last was
on the southern side of the lake, and a moment later Lobo came bounding
to my side and shaking the water from his shaggy coat.
My pack containing provisions and hides had gone with the raft, for I
had slipped it from my shoulder to more easily handle the pole, but I
still retained my precious bow and arrows and I discovered my spear
sticking in the shallow water where it had been cast by the final lurch
of the raft.
With my weapons and fire-making appliances intact I had little cause to
worry over the loss of my supplies. Thankful that I had escaped with so
little damage, I set off down the banks of the stream.
To my left a high, wooded hill rose steeply, but the forest by the
riverside was fairly open and level, and I had little trouble in making
my way down-stream, although several times I was obliged to make wide
detours to avoid jutting ledges and ramparts of rock.
In a few hours I reached the spot where the old wood road ended at the
river’s bank and, turning to the south, I left the brawling stream
behind and entered the old trail.
On either side were lofty, wooded hills, and these increased in height
and steepness until, when some five miles from the river, I found myself
in a deep, narrow cleft or pass. Then, rounding a precipitous,
rock-strewn promontory, the road entered a wider valley with a low,
rounded hill on the farther side and with a tiny brook babbling through
the center.
Stepping to one side, I approached the brook to drink, when suddenly I
stopped short—listening with bated breath and thumping heart, for my
ears had caught a faint, far-away sound of marvelous import—the whistle
of a locomotive! Then breaking into a run, I tore madly up the hillside,
with Lobo at my heels.
I reached the summit, peered through the thicket, and looked upon a
broad, fair valley with a silvery river winding through its fresh green
meadows.
Wildly, insanely, I shouted in a very delirium of joy, for gleaming in
the soft spring sunshine were the white buildings and shingled roofs of
a little village.
[Illustration: “I LOOKED UPON A BROAD, FAIR VALLEY”]
Tears of happiness welled to my eyes as I stood feasting my gaze upon
the scene and then the hoarse screech of the locomotive again roared out
and a train thundered past the base of the hill at my feet.
It was too much for Lobo, and with a terrified howl he turned and sped
back to the wild, leaving me standing alone upon the threshold of
civilization.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's Marooned in the Forest, by A. Hyatt Verrill