When Roy and Nelly set out for a ramble, they had at first no intention
of going beyond their usual haunts in the woods around the Fort; but Roy
had been inspirited by his successful march that day with his father and
Walter, and felt inclined to show Nelly some new scenes to which they
had not, up to that time, dared to penetrate together.
The snow-storm, already referred to, had commenced gradually. When the
children set forth on their ramble only a few flakes were falling, but
they had not been away half an hour when snow fell so thickly that they
could not see distinctly more than a few yards ahead of them. There was
no wind, however, so they continued to advance, rather pleased than
otherwise with the state of things.
"Oh, I _do_ like to see falling snow," cried Nelly, with a burst of
animation.
"So do I," said Roy, looking back at his sister with a bright smile,
"and I like it best when it comes down thick and heavy, in big flakes,
on a _very_ calm day, don't you?"
"Yes, oh it's so nice," responded Nelly sympathetically.
They paused for minutes to shake some of the snow from their garments,
and beat their hands together, for their fingers were cold, and to laugh
boisterously, for their hearts were merry. Then they resumed their
march, Roy beating the track manfully and Nelly following in his
footsteps.
In passing beneath a tall fir-tree Roy chanced to touch a twig. The
result was literally overwhelming, for in a moment he was almost buried
in snow, to the unutterable delight of his sister, who stood screaming
with laughter as the unfortunate boy struggled to disentomb himself.
In those northern wilds, where snow falls frequently and in great
abundance, masses are constantly accumulating on the branches of trees,
particularly on the pines, on the broad flat branches of which these
masses attain to considerable size. A slight touch is generally
sufficient to bring these down, but, being soft, they never do any
injury worth mentioning.
When Roy had fairly emerged from the snow he joined his sister in the
laugh, but suddenly he stopped, and his face became very grave.
"What's the matter?" asked Nelly, with an anxious look.
"My snow-shoe's broken," said Roy.
There was greater cause for anxiety on account of this accident than the
reader is perhaps aware of. It may be easily understood that in a
country where the snow averages four feet in depth, no one can walk
half-a-mile without snow-shoes without being thoroughly exhausted; on
the other hand, a man can walk thirty or forty miles a day by means of
snow-shoes.
"Can't you mend it?" asked Nelly.
Roy, who had been carefully examining the damaged shoe, shook his head.
"I've nothing here to do it with; besides, it's an awful smash. I must
just try to scramble home the best way I can. Come, it's not very far,
we'll only be a bit late for dinner."
The snow-shoe having been bandaged, after a fashion, with a
pocket-handkerchief, the little wanderers began to retrace their steps;
but this was now a matter of extreme difficulty, owing to the quantity
of snow which had fallen and almost obliterated the tracks. The broken
shoe, also, was constantly giving way, so that ere long the children
became bewildered as well as anxious, and soon lost the track of their
outward march altogether. To make matters worse, the wind began to blow
clouds of snow-drift into their faces, compelling them to seek the
denser parts of the forest for shelter.
They wandered on, however, in the belief that they were drawing nearer
home every step, and Roy, whose heart was stout and brave, cheered up
his sister's spirit so much that she began to feel quite confident their
troubles would soon be over.
Presently all their hopes were dashed to the ground by their suddenly
emerging upon an open space, close to the very spot where the snow-mass
had fallen on Roy's head. After the first feeling of alarm and
disappointment had subsided, Roy plucked up heart and encouraged Nelly
by pointing out to her that they had at all events recovered their old
track, which they would be very careful not to lose sight of again.
Poor Nelly whimpered a little, partly from cold and hunger as well as
from disappointment, as she listened to her brother's words; then she
dried her eyes and said she was ready to begin again. So they set off
once more. But the difficulty of discerning the track, if great at
first, was greater now, because the falling and drifting snow had
well-nigh covered it up completely. In a very few minutes Roy stopped,
and, confessing that he had lost it again, proposed to return once more
to their starting point to try to recover it. Nelly agreed, for she was
by this time too much fatigued and alarmed to have any will of her own,
and was quite ready to do whatever she was told without question.
After wandering about for nearly an hour in this state of uncertainty,
Roy at last stopped, and, putting his arm round his sister's waist, said
that he had lost himself altogether! Poor Nelly, whose heart had been
gradually sinking, fairly broke down; she hid her face in her brother's
bosom, and wept.
"Come now, don't do that, dear Nell," said Roy, tenderly, "I'll tell you
what we shall do--we'll camp in the snow! We have often done it close
to the house, you know, for fun, so we'll do it now in earnest."
"But it's so dark and cold," sobbed Nelly, looking round with a shudder
into the dark recesses of the forest, which were by that time enshrouded
by the gathering shades of night; "and I'm _so_ hungry too! Oh me! what
_shall_ we do?"
"Now _don't_ get so despairing," urged Roy, whose courage rose in
proportion as his sister's sank; "it's not such an awful business after
all, for father is sure to scour the woods in search of us, an' if we
only get a comfortable encampment made, an' a roarin' fire kindled, why,
we'll sit beside it an' tell stories till they find us. They'll be sure
to see the fire, you know, so come--let's to work."
Roy said this so cheerfully that the child felt a little comforted,
dried her eyes, and said she would "help to make the camp."
This matter of making an encampment in the snow, although laborious
work, was by no means a novelty to these children of the backwoods.
They had often been taught how to do it by Cousin Walter and Larry
O'Dowd, and had made "playing at camps" their chief amusement in fine
winter days. When, therefore, they found themselves compelled to
"camp-out" from necessity, neither of them was at a loss how to proceed.
Roy drew a circle in the snow, about three yards in diameter, at the
foot of a large tree, and then both set to work to dig a hole in this
space, using their snow-shoes as shovels. It took an hour's hard work
to reach the ground, and when they did so the piled-up snow all round
raised the walls of this hole to the height of about six feet.
"Now for bedding," cried Roy, scrambling over the walls of their camp
and going into the woods in search of a young pine-tree, while Nelly sat
down on the ground to rest after her toil.
It was a dark night, and the woods were so profoundly obscured, that Roy
had to grope about for some time before he found a suitable tree.
Cutting it down with the axe which always hung at his girdle, he
returned to camp with it on his shoulder, and cut off the small soft
branches, which Nelly spread over the ground to the depth of nearly half
a foot. This "pine-brush," as it is called, formed a soft elastic
couch.
The fire was the next business. Again Roy went into the bush and
gathered a large bundle of dry branches.
"Now, Nelly, do you break a lot of the small twigs," said Roy, "and I'll
strike a light."
He pulled his firebag from his belt as he spoke, and drew from it flint,
steel, and tinder. No one ever travels in the wilds of which we write
without such means of procuring fire. Roy followed the example of his
elder companions in carrying a firebag, although he did not, like them,
carry tobacco and pipe in it.
Soon the bright sparks that flew from the flint caught on the tinder.
This was placed in a handful of dry grass, and whirled rapidly round
until it was fanned into a flame. Nelly had prepared another handful of
dry grass with small twigs above it. The light was applied, the fire
leaped up, more sticks were piled on, and at last the fire roared
upward, sending bright showers of sparks into the branches overhead,
lighting the white walls of the camp with a glow that caused them to
sparkle as with millions of gems, and filling the hearts of the children
with a sensation of comfort and gladness, while they stood before the
blaze and warmed themselves, rubbing their hands and laughing with glee.
No one, save those who have experienced it, can form any conception of
the cheering effect of a fire in the heart of a dark wood at night. Roy
and Nelly quite forgot their lost condition for a short time, in the
enjoyment of the comforting heat and the bright gladsome blaze. The
brother cut firewood until he was rendered almost breathless, the sister
heaped on the wood until the fire roared and leaped high above their
heads. Strange though it may appear to some, the snow did not melt.
The weather was too cold for that; only a little of that which was
nearest the fire melted--the snow walls remained hard frozen all round.
Roy soon sat down to rest, as close to the fire as he could without
getting scorched; then Nelly seated herself by his side and nestled her
head in his breast. There they sat, telling stories and gazing at the
fire, and waiting for "father to come."
Meanwhile Robin and his comrade ranged the forest far and near in
desperate anxiety. But it was a wide and wild country. The children
had wandered far away; a high ridge of land hid their fire from view.
Moreover, Robin, knowing the children's usual haunts, had chanced to go
off in the wrong direction. When night set in the hunters returned to
Fort Enterprise to procure ammunition and provisions, in order to
commence a more thorough and prolonged search. Poor Mrs Gore still sat
beside the cold and untasted feast, and there the hunters left her,
while they once more plunged into the pathless wilderness to search for
the lost ones on that luckless New Year's Day.