COMING OF THE MAN-WOLF.
Once Arsenic went to where Cabot was lying, and, grinning cheerfully,
remarked: "Tea, shug. Plenty, yes." Then he laughed immoderately, as
did several other Indians who were listening admiringly to this flight
of eloquence in the white man's own tongue.
"Oh, clear out, you grinning baboon," growled Cabot. "I only hope I'll
live to get even with you for this day's work."
The Indians were evidently so pleased at having drawn a retort from
their prisoner that he declined to gratify them further, or to speak
another word, though for some time Arsenic continued to beguile him
with his tiresome "Tea, shug," etc. When the latter finally gave it up
and started away to get his share of the feast, Cabot's gaze followed
him closely.
All this time our lad was filled with vague terrors concerning White,
of whose fate he had not received the slightest intimation, as well as
of what might be in store for himself. Would he be carried to the
distant interior to become a slave in some filthy Indian village, or
would he be killed before they took their departure? Perhaps they
would simply leave him there to freeze and starve to death, or they
might amuse themselves by burning him at the stake. Did these far
northern Indians still do such things? He wondered, but could not
remember ever to have heard.
While considering these unpleasant possibilities, Cabot was also
suffering with cold, from the pain of his bonds, and from lying
motionless on the bed of rocks to which he had been carelessly flung.
But, with all his pain and his mental distress, he still glared at the
young savage who had so basely betrayed his kindness, and at length
Arsenic seemed to be uneasily aware of the steady gaze. He changed his
position several times, and his noisy hilarity was gradually succeeded
by a sullen silence. Suddenly he lifted his head and listened
apprehensively. His quick ear had caught an ominous note in the
distant, long-drawn howl of a wolf. He spoke of it to his comrades,
and several of them joined him in listening. It came again, a
blood-curdling yell, now so distinct that all heard it. They stopped
their feasting to consult in low tones and peer fearfully into the
surrounding blackness.
Cabot had also recognised the sound, but, uncanny as it was, he
wondered why the howl of a wolf should disturb a lot of Indians who
must know, even better than he, the cowardly nature of the beast, and
that there was no chance of his coming near a fire.
Even as these thoughts passed through his mind, the terrible cry was
uttered again--this time so close at hand that it was taken up and
repeated by a chorus of echoes from the nearby cliffs. The Indians
sprang to their feet in terror, while at the same moment an avalanche
of stones, gravel, and small boulders rushed down the face of the cliff
close to where Cabot lay. From it was evolved a monstrous shape that,
with unearthly howlings, leaped towards the frightened natives. As it
did so flashes of lightning, that seemed to dart from it, gleamed with
a dazzling radiance on their distorted faces. In another moment they
were in full flight up the rugged pathway leading from the basin, hotly
pursued by their mysterious enemy.
The latter seemed to pass directly through the fire, scattering its
blazing brands to all sides. At the same time he snatched up a flaming
timber for use as a weapon against such of the panic-stricken savages
as still remained within reach.
The flashes of light that accompanied the apparition, while
illuminating all nearby objects, had left it shrouded in darkness, and
only when it crouched for an instant above the fire did Cabot gain a
clear glimpse of the gigantic form. To his dismay it appeared to be a
great beast with a human resemblance. It had the gleaming teeth, the
horrid jaws, the sharp ears, in fact the face and head of a wolf, the
tawny mane of a lion, and was covered with thick fur; but it stood
erect and used its arms like a man. At the same time, the sounds
issuing from its throat seemed a combination of incoherent human cries
and wolfish howlings. Cabot only saw it for a moment, and then it was
gone, leaping up the pathway, whirling the blazing timber above its
head, and darting its mysterious lightning flashes after the flying
Indians.
As the clamour of flight and pursuit died away, to be followed by a
profound silence, there came a muffled call:
"Cabot. Cabot Grant."
"Hello!" shouted our lad. "Who is it? Where are you?"
"It is I, White," came the barely heard answer. "I am here in the
cabin. Can't you come and let me out?"
"No," replied Cabot. "I am tied hand and foot."
"So am I. Are you wounded?"
"No. Are you?"
"No. What are the Indians doing?"
"Running for dear life from a Labrador devil--half wolf and half
man--armed with soundless thunder-bolts."
During the short silence that followed, White meditated upon this
extraordinary statement, and decided that his comrade's brain must be
affected by his sufferings.
"If I could only twist out of these ropes," he groaned, and then he
began again a struggle to free his hands from their bonds. At the same
time Cabot, who had long since discovered the futility of such effort,
was anxiously listening, and wondering what would happen next.
With all his listening he did not hear the soft approach of furred
footsteps, and when a blinding light was flashed full in his face he
was so startled that he cried out with terror. Instantly the light
vanished, and he shuddered as he realised that the furry monster had
returned, and, bending over him, was fumbling at his bonds.
In another moment these were severed, he was picked up as though he had
been an infant, and carried to the fire, whose scattered embers were
speedily re-assembled. As it blazed up, Cabot gazed eagerly at the
mysterious figure, which had thus far worked in silence. Curious as he
was to see it, he yet dreaded to look upon its wolfish features.
Therefore, as the fire blazed up, he uttered a cry of amazement, for,
fully revealed by its light, was a man; clad in furs, it is true, but
bare-headed and having a pleasant face lighted by kindly blue eyes.
"You are really human after all!" gasped Cabot.
The stranger smiled but said nothing.
"And can understand English?"
A nod of the head was the only answer.
"Then," continued Cabot, hardly noting that his deliverer had not
spoken, "won't you please go aboard the schooner and find my friend?
He is in the cabin, where those wretches left him, tied up."
This was the first intimation the stranger had received that any one
besides Cabot needed his assistance, but without a word he did as
requested, swinging himself aboard the "Sea Bee" by her head chains and
her bowsprit, which overhung the beach. Directly afterwards a flash of
light streamed from the cabin windows. Then White Baldwin, assisted by
the fur-clad giant, emerged from his prison, walked stiffly along the
deck, and was helped down to the beach, where Cabot eagerly awaited him.
After a joyous greeting of his friend the young American said
anxiously: "But are you sure you are all right, old man--not wounded
nor hurt in any way?"
"No; I am sound as a nut," replied White. "Only a little stiff, that's
all."
"Same here," declared Cabot, industriously rubbing his legs to restore
their circulation. "I was rapidly turning into a human icicle, though,
when our big friend dropped down from the sky in a chariot of flame and
gave those Indian beggars such a scare that I don't suppose they've
stopped running yet. But how did you happen to let 'em aboard, old
man? Couldn't you stand them off with a gun?"
For answer White gave a full account of all that had taken place, so
far as he knew, and in return Cabot described his own exciting
experiences, while the stranger listened attentively, but in silence,
to both narratives. When Cabot came to the end of his own story, he
said:
"Now, sir, won't you please tell us how you happened to find us out and
come to our rescue just in the nick of time? I should also very much
like to know how you managed to tumble down that precipice unharmed, as
well as how you produced those flashes of light that scared the savages
so badly--me too, for that matter."
For answer the stranger only smiled gravely, pointed to his lips, and
shook his head.
"Oh!" exclaimed both Cabot and White, shocked by this intimation, and
the former said:
"I beg your pardon, sir. While I noticed that you didn't do much
talking, it never occurred to me that you were dumb. I am awfully
sorry, and it must be a terrible trial. At the same time, I am glad
you can hear me say how very grateful we are to you for getting us out
of a nasty fix in the splendid way you did. Now, I move we adjourn to
the cabin of the schooner, where we can make some hot tea and be rather
more comfortable than out here. That is, if you think those Indians
won't come back."
The stranger smiled again, and shook his head so reassuringly that the
lads had no longer a doubt as to the expediency of returning to the
cabin. There they started a fire in the stove, boiled water, made tea,
and prepared a meal, of which the stranger ate so heartily, and with
such evident appreciation, that it was a pleasure to watch him.
While supper was being made ready, the big man removed his outer
garments of wolf fur and stood in a close-fitting suit of tanned
buckskin that clearly revealed the symmetry of his massive proportions.
"If I were as strong as you look, and, as I know from experience, you
are," exclaimed Cabot, admiringly, "I don't think I would hesitate to
attack a whole tribe of Indians single handed. My! but it must be fine
to be so strong."
After supper Cabot, who generally acted as spokesman, again addressed
himself to their guest, saying:
"If you don't mind, sir, we'd like to have you know just what sort of a
predicament we've got into, and ask your advice as to how we can get
out of it." With this preamble Cabot explained the whole situation,
and ended by saying:
"Now you know just how we are fixed, and if you can guide us to the
nearest Mission Station or, if you haven't time to go with us, if you
will give us directions how to find it--we shall be under a greater
obligation to you than ever."
For a minute the stranger looked thoughtful but made no sign. Then,
dipping his finger in a bowl of water, he wrote on the table the single
word: "To-morrow." Having thus dismissed the subject for the present,
he stretched his huge frame on a transom and almost instantly fell
asleep.
Our tired lads were not long in following his example, and, though
several times during the alight one or the other of them got up to
replenish the fire, they always found their guest quietly sleeping.
But when they both awoke late the following morning and looked for him
he had disappeared.