windswept slope that stretched away into a barren icy plain. Now Charley
hopped onto the back of the sled and rode like a Roman charioteer,
shouting encouragement to the dogs in Indian. Although there was no
broken trail, the sled rode solidly on the surface of the old snow
crusted over thickly by the 50-below-zero cold.
“This is really living!” Jerry exulted, his voice trailing off eerily in
the slipstream behind the sled. At noon they stopped to rest the dogs in
the lee of a rock overhang. Sandy broke out a thermos of steaming coffee
and sandwiches, and Charley threw the huskies some chunks of lean dry
meat.
“How far do you think we’ve come so far?” Jerry asked.
Charley shrugged. “Twenty, maybe twenty-five mile.”
“Say, that’s pretty good.” He looked back in the direction they had come
from. “Where do you suppose those other guys are?”
Charley finished his sandwich, rumpled up the wax-paper wrapping and set
a match to it, warming his hands over the brief torch it created. He
motioned to the west. “Some follow other trail. Maybe a few stay just in
back of us. Let us break new trail for them. Then when our dogs tired,
they fresh and catch us.” He cupped one hand to his ear. “Listen!”
The boys held their breaths for a minute, straining to hear. They could
just make out the sound of barking dogs floating on the wind in the
distance.
“He’s right,” Jerry said indignantly. “That’s a sneaky thing to do.”
“No, it’s not,” Sandy disagreed. “No more than a track man letting
another runner set the pace.”
“No worry,” Charley assured them. “We win anyway.”
“What a man you are, Charley.” Jerry regarded the big Indian with
admiration. “We could use you in the fullback spot on the Valley View
football team.” He grinned at Sandy. “I bet he could walk down the field
with both teams on his back.”
Charley squinted up at the sky abruptly. The ceiling seemed even lower
and grayer than before. “It snow soon. We better go.”
Sandy looked up too. “How can you tell?”
“I know,” Charley said somberly. “Bad storm on the way.”
“Oh, great!” Jerry said. “What happens if we get caught out in this deep
freeze in a blizzard?”
“There are check points every twenty-five miles,” Sandy recalled what
the professor had told him. “We must be pretty close to one now,
Charley. Think we should stop and get a weather report?”
Charley nodded toward the east. “Two, three miles over that way. On main
trail. We go there, we lose race. We stop at next post, at halfway mark.
Three hours away maybe.”
“I guess that’s the only thing to do,” Sandy agreed. “Well, let’s get
moving.”
Ten minutes later, the snow began to come down, fine granular pellets
that stung like sand as the rising wind blasted it into their faces.
Visibility was reduced to no more than fifty feet. Even the dogs were
slowed down. The snow, mixed with the loose surface fluff of previous
falls, piled up quickly in drifts. As it dragged at his boots more and
more, Charley began to mutter angrily to himself in Indian.
“I don’t like it, Sandy,” Jerry said uneasily. “We’re never going to
make that check point before dark.”
“At this rate we’ll never make it at all,” Sandy retorted. “Listen,
Jerry, what do you say we get out and trot along with Charley? It’s bad
enough pulling the sled by itself without our weight too.”
“Good idea,” Jerry admitted. “Let’s give the dogs a break.”
Sandy signaled Charley to stop and told him of their plan.
“All right,” Charley agreed. “I go up front and break trail.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lost in a Blizzard
For the next half hour the boys were able to keep up with the sled. But
in the ever-deepening snow, their legs grew heavier and heavier. At
last, they lost sight of the sled in the swirling flakes. When Jerry
slipped and fell, Sandy cupped his hands to his mouth like a megaphone
and yelled: “Charley! Char-r-ley! Wait for us.”
Gasping for breath, Jerry struggled up to his hands and knees. “I’ve had
it, Sandy,” he gasped. “I can’t go any farther.”
Sandy helped his friend to get up and supported him with one arm.
“C’mon, boy, we can make it. As soon as we catch up with the team you
can rest awhile in the sled.”
Clutching each other tightly, they staggered forward, trying to follow
the tracks of the sled runners. But before they had covered twenty-five
feet, the blowing snow had obliterated the trail. Sandy continued on
doggedly in the direction he thought the team had taken, dragging Jerry
with him. Every few steps he would stop and call: “Char-ley! Char-ley!”
But there was no answer—only the moaning of the wind and the hiss of the
snow beating against the fabric of their parkas.
Once more Jerry sagged to his knees. “We’re lost, pal,” he muttered.
“Look, I’m exhausted. I can’t go a step farther. You go ahead and look
for Charley. When you find him, you can come back for me.”
“Don’t be crazy, Jerry. Our best chance is to stick together. If we keep
walking, we’re bound to catch up to the team. Once Charley finds we’re
gone, he’ll stop and wait for us.”
Jerry’s voice cracked. “I can’t see my hand in front of my face. We
don’t even know if we’re going in the right direction.”
While he was speaking, a low, mournful howl drifted to them on the wind
from somewhere on their left. Sandy clutched Jerry’s arm. “You hear
that?” he said tensely.
Jerry’s voice brightened. “That must be the team. C’mon.” With renewed
vigor, he veered off in the direction of the howling.
Sandy grabbed him with both hands. “No, wait! It could be a wolf.”
Jerry stopped dead. “Oh my gosh!” he murmured. “What are we going to
do?”
Sandy dusted the snow that had crusted on his eyebrows with the back of
one mitten. “I don’t know. I still think we’re heading in the right
direction. Let’s go a little farther. If we don’t find Charley and the
team soon, we can always head over that way.”
The snow was coming down so hard now that every breath was an effort.
Sandy felt as if he were being smothered in a sea of white cotton. He
stopped as the howling broke out again, in a chorus this time.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said to Jerry. “That sure sounds like a bunch
of dogs.”
“Yeah, let’s give it a try, anyhow,” Jerry pressed.
They were just about to veer off in the direction of the howling when
they heard a familiar harsh rumbling directly in front of them. It was
the unmistakable growl of a husky.
“Charley!” Sandy called out. “Titan! Black Titan!”
A succession of sharp yelps knifed through the storm. “That’s the team
all right!” Jerry cried.
Miraculously, their legs seemed to find new strength, and they
practically ran the rest of the way through the knee-deep snow. Directly
ahead of them, the sled loomed out of the darkness. The dogs, in
harness, were seated on their haunches or huddled low in drifts to
escape the force of the wind. But Charley was nowhere to be seen.
Jerry sagged against the back of the sled. “Oh my gosh! What happened to
him?”
“He must have doubled back to look for us and we didn’t see him in the
storm.” Night had deepened the blinding downfall even more.
There was a tremor in Jerry’s voice. “You don’t think the wolves got
him, Sandy?”
“No, they rarely attack a man. Especially with the dogs here. Besides,
Charley had a rifle.” He rummaged through the packs on the front of the
sled. “It’s not here, so he must have taken it with him.”
“What do we do now?” Jerry wanted to know. “Go back and try to find
Charley?”
“That’s the worst thing we could do,” Sandy said emphatically. “We’d get
lost but good. No, the best thing to do is to wait here until Charley
gets back.”
Jerry was skeptical. “I’m not sure even an old woodsman like Charley can
find his way back in this soup.”
“Maybe if we shout to him he’ll hear us,” Sandy suggested.
For the next ten minutes the boys pitted their voices against the
intensity of the raging storm. But even in their own ears their shouts
sounded pitifully weak. At last they gave it up.
“It’s no use,” Sandy said hoarsely. “We’ll just have to wait.” He
crouched down in the lee of the sled.
What seemed like hours passed and still there was no sign of Charley.
The boys could feel the cold seeping through their heavy clothing and
stiffening their limbs. They were both badly frightened now.
“Sandy,” Jerry pleaded, “we just can’t sit here and do nothing. We’ll
freeze to death. My nose and cheeks are numb now.”
Sandy fought back the panic that was rising in him too. “If we don’t
lose our heads, we’ll be okay, Jerry. The way it looks now, we’re going
to have to spend the night here. Tomorrow, they’ll have search parties
out looking for us. I bet the rest of the contestants are in the same
boat we are.”
“We’ll be stiff as washboards by then,” Jerry prophesied. “Frozen wolf
food.”
“Don’t be a nut,” Sandy snapped. “Now get up and help me rig up a
lean-to.”
“A lean-to?” Jerry said wonderingly. “What kind of a lean-to?”
“The kind Charley says the Eskimos build on the trail. They fasten a big
hide to the side of the sled that’s out of the wind and peg the other
side down to the ice, or weight it down. The snow piles up against the
far side of the sled, forming a solid windbreak, and you have yourself a
cozy little tent.”
“We don’t have any hides,” Jerry said.
“We have that big rug in the sled. C’mon, let’s get to work.”
While Sandy fastened the robe to the top of the sled’s guard rail, Jerry
weighted the far side down with a pair of snowshoes he found in the sled
and heaped up snow on top of the shoes until they weighted down the robe
securely. When they were finished, Sandy scooped the excess snow out
from beneath the robe and they had a small lean-to with just enough room
in it to shelter two people.
“Well, that’s that,” Sandy said with satisfaction, brushing off his
mittens. “Now I’ll unhitch the dogs while you get our supper ready.”
The erection of the lean-to had renewed Jerry’s confidence. “What’ll you
have?” he inquired flippantly. “Roast turkey with chestnut stuffing or a
thick steak smothered with onions and a side of French fries?”
Sandy played the game with him. “No, I’m getting sick of that goppy
stuff. How about a couple of frozen sandwiches and a thermos of cold
coffee?”
“Just what I had in mind,” Jerry called to him as he rummaged through
the packs on the sled. “Are we going to feed the huskies?”
“Sure, get out some of that meat Charley keeps in that big tin can up
front.”
The dogs seemed overjoyed to see Sandy. They leaped about him, wagging
their tails furiously and barking and whining.
“I bet you guys are hungry,” Sandy spoke to them. “Keep calm. Your
dinner’s coming right up.”
When he knelt beside Black Titan to remove his harness, the big lead dog
jockeyed obediently into the proper position. As soon as he was free, he
nuzzled affectionately against the boy’s cheek. “Hey!” Sandy laughed.
“That is the coldest nose I ever felt in my life.” He ruffled up the
thick fur around the husky’s throat with his fingers, and was surprised
to feel the soothing warmth deep down in the animal’s undercoat. “Boy, I
wish I had your fur, Titan. No wonder you can sleep in a snow foxhole.”
He pressed both hands against Titan’s body gratefully. “That feels good,
old boy.”
Jerry came up behind him with the can of dog meat. “And look what else I
found.” He held out a bulky .45 Colt automatic. “It’s fully loaded,
too.”
The sight of the lethal-looking pistol was reassuring. “Dad must have
given it to Charley before we left,” Sandy reasoned. “He asked me if I
wanted to take a gun along, but I knew Charley had his rifle, so I
didn’t bother. It’s a good thing we have it. Now maybe we can signal to
Charley. Fire a few shots in the air to let him know where we are.”
“Good idea,” Jerry agreed. “And I’ve got an even better one.”
“What’s that?”
“Let’s send old Titan out to find his buddy. Bet you he can do it.”
Sandy was pessimistic. “I don’t know if he could pick up Charley’s trail
in a storm like this, but we can give it a try.”
While the dogs were gulping down their food, the boys rummaged through
Charley’s gear until they found a heavy wool shirt that the Indian had
recently worn. When Black Titan had finished eating, Sandy held the
shirt under his nose.
“Charley, Charley,” he kept repeating. “Go find Charley, Titan.” He
slapped the husky on the rump. “Go on, Titan!”
Titan began to whine as he sniffed at the shirt. Then he trotted off
into the blizzard with his head down. When he had disappeared from
sight, Jerry turned to Sandy. “Well, what do we do now?”
“Eat supper and climb into our sleeping bags, I guess. But first I want
to fire a couple of shots to see if we can signal Charley.”
He took out the heavy automatic and levered a shell into the firing
chamber. Pointing it up in the air, he pulled the trigger. The muzzle
flash lit up the night briefly like lightning, but the shot was muffled
by the wind and thick curtain of snow. The dogs milled around nervously
and began to bark. Sandy fired one more shot, then shoved the gun back
in the pocket of his parka.
“I bet those shots didn’t carry over five hundred feet. I feel as though
we’re inside a vacuum. I don’t want to waste any more shells until this
gale lets up a little. C’mon, let’s sack in for the night.”
They gathered up the sandwiches, coffee thermos, Coleman stove and
sleeping bags and crawled into the lean-to. The blowing snow had sealed
up all the cracks and even the openings at either end of the makeshift
shelter. Sandy burrowed through a drift at the rear of the sled to form
an entranceway.
“This back end gets less wind,” he explained to Jerry.
The interior of the lean-to was cramped, but seated with their backs
resting against the sides of the sled and their legs crossed in front of
them, they were not too uncomfortable. Sandy pumped up the pressure in
the one-burner gasoline stove and lit it. He turned the wick up
abnormally high until the pale-blue flame became streaked with yellow
and began to smoke slightly. Although this was a waste of fuel and
reduced the cooking efficiency of the stove, it provided more light and
warmth.
“Say, this is all right,” Jerry said, grinning. “It reminds me of the
time we went on a Boy Scout camping trip and slept in pup tents.”
Sandy grinned. “The only difference was we were only a ten-minute walk
away from home and there was a hot-dog stand across the road from the
bivouac area.” He took a half-frozen sandwich out of the knapsack and
passed it to Jerry. “Be careful you don’t break your teeth when you bite
into it.”
“Thanks, pal.” Jerry filled two aluminum canteen cups from the coffee
thermos and sipped from one. “It’s lukewarm, anyway,” he commented.
“I’ve got an idea,” Sandy said. “We can heat the cups on the stove and
sit the sandwiches on top of the cup. That way the steam will thaw out
the bread.”
“Brilliant. If it wasn’t so cold, I’d take my hat off to you.”
Ten minutes later, they were munching hungrily on a relatively decent
meal. Jerry inhaled the steam that was rising from his canteen cup and
sighed contentedly. “I know it must be my imagination, but right now I’d
say this is the best-tasting chow I ever ate.”
Sandy laughed and nodded. “We used to say the same thing about the
mickeys we roasted in the corner lot when we were kids. All black with
ashes and dirt, but boy, they sure did taste good.” He lowered the wick
a little on the stove. “It’s probably the hot coffee, but I’m beginning
to get warm in here.”
“What’s wrong with being warm?” Jerry protested. “Turn it up as high as
it will go.”
Sandy frowned. “When you live in frigid temperatures it’s safer to feel
a little cold than it is to be overheated, because when you cool off,
the perspiration will turn to ice on your skin.”
“Perspiration!” Jerry gawked incredulously. “Are you kidding?”
“Well, we’re not going to take any chances. As soon as we’re finished
eating, I’m going to turn off the stove altogether.”
“Not until I’m snug in my bedroll,” Jerry begged.
Sandy looked worried. “Poor Charley. He’s not going to be very snug
tonight. No bedroll, no food. Gee, I wish I knew what happened to him.”
“What makes it worse,” Jerry said gloomily, “is that it’s our fault. If
we hadn’t dragged so far behind, he wouldn’t have had to go looking for
us.”
The boys finished their sandwiches and coffee in subdued silence,
staring out into the stormy night through the diminishing black hole of
the entranceway.
“You know,” Sandy said suddenly, “in another hour we’ll be snowed in
tight inside this lean-to.”
Jerry surveyed the drifting snow anxiously. “You’re right. Like a tomb.
We’ll be able to get out, though, won’t we?”
Sandy reached over and enlarged the opening with one hand. “Oh, yes.
It’s as light as powder.”
After they had finished eating and wrapped up the garbage, they prepared
to bed down for the night. “We’d better do this one at a time,” Sandy
suggested. “We’d only be in each other’s way moving around in here
together. I’ll go outside until you’re all settled. You lie with your
head up at the front of the sled. I’ll lie the opposite way. That way
we’ll have more room.”
Crawling on hands and knees, Sandy pushed through the drift that was
blocking up the opening. A furious blast of bitter cold wind took his
breath away as he got to his feet and sent him reeling back from the
sled. It was even warmer inside the lean-to than he had realized. He
recalled that Tagish Charley had a powerful flashlight in his gear and
walked through knee-high snow to the front of the sled to look for it.
It would be wise to keep it handy in the lean-to, he decided. He found
the light easily and turned it on to see how the dogs were making out.
They were all huddled together behind the windbreak of the sled,
growling and shifting around restlessly. As the flash beam swept over
them, a few cringed and bared their fangs. Their behavior distressed
Sandy, who had expected that by now they would all be cozily balled up
in holes and snoring peacefully. He skirted around them and walked back
to consult with Jerry. Beaming the light on the lean-to, he saw that the
snow was mounding it over like an igloo. Once more he had to dig the
snow away from the entrance before he could get in.
When he crawled inside, he saw that Jerry was stretched out in his
sleeping bag, the hooded cover zipped up tightly around his head. Only
his eyes, nose and mouth were showing.
“How’s the weather outside?” he asked Sandy.
Sandy shook the snow off his hood. “Same as before. Terrible. The dogs
are acting up, too. I’m worried.”
“Maybe they’re cold.”
“I don’t think so. They act frightened.”
“Me too. We’re snowbound in the Yukon. Charley’s missing, probably
frozen to death in a snowdrift. Our food is about gone. What a mess! I’m
scared plenty.”
At that moment a long, mournful animal howl rose clearly above the
intensity of the wind. Before it trailed off, another howl and still
another joined it, forming an eerie chorus.
Jerry snapped upright like a jack-in-the-box, his face drained of blood.
“Wolves!”
“And close by,” Sandy said grimly.
Outside, the dogs were really setting up an uproar now, snarling and
barking frantically.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sandy had to smile as he
watched his friend struggling to get out of the sleeping bag. In his
excitement, Jerry couldn’t work the zipper. “Get me out of this strait
jacket!” he yelled.
“Take it easy,” Sandy said. “In that bag you look like a big fat hot dog
with a face.”
“Not so loud,” Jerry cautioned him. “The wolves might hear you. Just
hurry and get me out of here.”
Between them they finally got the sleeping bag unzipped, and Jerry
rolled out. Sandy took the Army .45 out of his pocket and checked the
clip. There were still four shells in it.
“Do we have any more ammunition for that cannon?” Jerry asked anxiously.
“Probably up front in Charley’s gear. I’m going up to get it.”
“I’m going with you,” Jerry said promptly. “One of those wolves might
poke his snout in here while you’re gone.”
They scrambled out into the blizzard and stood up. Sandy switched on the
flashlight and swept it in a wide circle about them. The powerful beam
seemed to run into a solid wall of white no more than fifty feet away.
He turned it on the dogs, who were setting up such a loud racket that it
drowned out the howling of the wolves. The huskies were all on their
feet now, standing stiff-legged with their tails curled tightly beneath
their bellies. Their lips were drawn back over their teeth, and the
thick fur around their necks bristled like porcupine quills. Sandy swung
the light in the direction of their gaze, and felt his heart flip and
miss a beat. Glowing greenishly through the falling flakes was a circle
of eyes. They were there for just an instant and then faded back out of
range of the beam.
Jerry gripped Sandy’s arm tightly. “There must be a whole pack of ’em.
They’re just waiting for us to fall asleep and then they’ll jump us.”
One of the huskies began to slink forward toward the wolves, his belly
flattened close to the ground.
“Come back here, boy!” Sandy shouted. “They’ll tear him to pieces,” he
muttered to Jerry. He cocked the automatic and aimed in the direction of
the glowing eyes. “I hate to waste ammo like this, but maybe we can
scare them off.”
He fired three shots. The last shot was answered by a sharp yelp of
pain.
“You got one!” Jerry yelled excitedly.
“Shh! Listen!” Sandy said. Above the wailing of the storm they could
hear wild snarling and yelping.
“Sounds like they’re fighting among themselves,” Jerry said.
The commotion ended as abruptly as it had begun, and although Sandy kept
searching the darkness with the light for a long time, there was no
further sign of the wolves. At last, when the dogs quieted down and
curled up in burrows, the boys relaxed.
“I guess the shots did scare them off at that,” Sandy decided. “Now
let’s find that box of ammo in Charley’s pack, and then we can go back
inside and see if we can get some rest.”
“Sleep?” Jerry said. “Are you kidding? Suppose they come back again?”
“The dogs will warn us if they do.”
Jerry shivered. “Okay. But I’ll take the bed next to the wall, just in
case.”
The snow had completely blocked the entrance, and they had to shovel
energetically to clear it. “Man, it’s really warm in here,” Jerry said
as he crawled into the lean-to.
The snow wall that had built up at the other end of the lean-to and on
the sled side was smooth and glistening. “Just like an igloo,” Sandy
said. As soon as they were inside their sleeping bags, he turned off the
Coleman stove.
Jerry sighed as the little hut was plunged into pitch-darkness. “If I
didn’t know better, I’d think I was back in my little trundle bed in
Valley View.”
“Go to sleep,” Sandy grunted. He was facing the entrance and the
automatic was within easy reach in his side pocket. In an emergency, he
knew he could fire right through the sleeping bag.
Gradually, his eyes became accustomed to the darkness and he could make
out the faint outline of the round doorway. His eyelids grew heavier and
the hole grew smaller and smaller. Then he dropped off to sleep.
CHAPTER NINE
Trapped in an Icy Tomb
When Sandy awoke, it was still pitch-dark inside the lean-to. He was
about to roll over and go back to sleep, but he decided to see what time
it was first. He pulled down the zipper of his sleeping bag, fumbled for
the flashlight and flicked the switch.
The sudden burst of light woke up Jerry. “Whazza matter?” he mumbled.
“Go back to sleep,” Sandy told him. “It’s still the middle of the
night.” He turned the spot on his wrist watch. “What the—” he exclaimed,
and sat up, startled. He squinted at the dial again, but there was no
mistake. It said 7:30. “That’s impossible! It must have stopped!” But he
held it up to his ear and heard the steady, rhythmic ticking.
“What’s the matter with you?” Jerry, fully awake now, propped himself up
on one elbow.
Suddenly, Sandy began to laugh. “Oh, I get it. We’re snowed in.” He
explained to Jerry. “My watch said it was half past seven, but I
couldn’t believe it because it was so dark in here. It’s the snow; it’s
blocking out the daylight.”
“It’s really morning?” Jerry said doubtfully. “Well, let’s go out and
find out.” He unzippered his sleeping bag.
Propping the torch up in the snow, Sandy tried to push his head and
shoulders through the drift that blocked the entrance. It was like
running into a stone wall. “Ouch!” he cried. He dug at the snow with his
fingers, but his mittens slid futilely off a surface that was as smooth
as a skating rink.
“Well, come on,” Jerry said impatiently. “Let’s go.”
“Door’s frozen up,” Sandy told him. He sat down and tried to kick
through the ice with his feet, but couldn’t dent it. He turned to Jerry.
“Try your end. This one is plugged up solid.”