About eight o'clock they halted for breakfast, which Larry O'Dowd
prepared with his accustomed celerity, and assisted to consume with his
wonted voracity.
"There's nothin' like aitin' when yer hungry," observed Larry, with his
mouth full.
"'Xcept drinking when you're dry," said Stiff, ironically.
"Now I don't agree with ye," retorted Larry; "I used to think so wance,
before I left the owld country--my blissin' rest on it. I used to think
there was nothin' like drink, an' sure I was right, for there niver
_was_ anythin' like it for turnin' a poor man into a baste; but when I
comed into the woods here I couldn't get drink for love or money, an'
sure I found, after a while, I didn't need it, and got on better widout
it, an' enjoyed me life more for want of it. Musha! it's little I care
for drink now; but, och! I've a mortal love for aitin'!"
It needed not Larry's assurance to convince his hearers of the fact, for
he consumed nearly twice as much dried meat as any of his comrades.
"Well, if ye don't drink gin-sling or cocktail," said Stiff, "you're
mighty hard on the tea."
"True for ye, Stiff, it was the fav'rite tipple o' me owld mother, an'
I'm fond of it on that score, not to mention other raisins of a private
natur'."
"Couldn't ye make these reasons public?" said Walter.
"Unpossible!" said Larry, with much gravity, as he helped himself to
another can of tea.
"Come, time's up," said Robin abruptly, as he rose to put on his
snow-shoes.
Larry swallowed the tea at a draught, the others rose promptly, and in a
few minutes more they were again on the march.
Towards noon they issued out of the woods upon a wide undulating
country, which extended, as far as the eye could see, to faint blue
mountains in the distance. This region was varied in character and
extremely beautiful. The undulations of the land resembled in some
places the waves of the sea. In other places there were clumps of trees
like islets. Elsewhere there were hollows in which lakelets and ponds
evidently existed, but the deep snow covered all these with a uniform
carpet. In some parts the ground was irregular and broken by miniature
hills, where there were numerous abrupt and high precipices.
The party were approaching one of the latter in the afternoon, when
Robin suddenly paused and pointed to a projecting ledge on the face of
one of the cliffs.
"What would ye say yonder objic' was?" he inquired of Slugs.
The hunter shaded his eyes with his hand, and remained silent for a few
seconds.
"It _looks_ like a sled," said he, dropping his hand, "but how it got
thar' would puzzle even a redskin to tell, for there's no track up to
that ledge."
"It _is_ a sled," said Black Swan, curtly.
"An' how came it there?" asked Robin.
"It fell from the top," replied the Indian.
"Right, lad, yer right!" said Slugs, who had taken another long look at
the object in question; "I see somethin' like a broken tree near the top
o' the precipice. I hope Wapaw hain't gone an' tumbled over that
cliff."
This supposition was received in silence and with grave looks, for all
felt that the thing was not impossible, but the Indian shook his head.
"Come, Black Swan," said Walter, "you don't agree with us--what think
ye?"
"Wapaw had no sled with him," replied the Indian.
"Right again!" cried Slugs; "I do believe my sense is forsakin' me; an
Injun baby might have thought of that, for his tracks are plain enough.
Hows'ever, let's go see, for it's o' no use standin' here guessin'."
The party at once advanced to the foot of the precipice, and for nearly
an hour they did their utmost to ascend to the ledge, on which the
sledge lay, but their efforts were in vain. The rock was everywhere too
steep and smooth to afford foot-hold.
"It won't do," said Larry, wiping the perspiration from his brow; "av we
had wings we might, but we hain't got 'em, so it's o' no manner o' use
tryin'."
"We shall try from the top now," said Robin. "If anybody _has_ tumbled
over, the poor crittur may be alive yet, for all we know."
They found their efforts to descend from the top of the precipice
equally fruitless and much more dangerous, and although they spent a
long time in the attempt, and taxed their wits to the utmost, they were
ultimately compelled to leave the place and continue their journey
without attaining their object.
One discovery was made, however. It was ascertained by the old marks in
the snow at the edge of the precipice that, whatever members of the
party who owned the sledge had tumbled over, at least two of them had
escaped, for their track--faint and scarcely discernible--was traced for
some distance. It was found, also, that Wapaw's track joined this old
one. The wounded Indian had fallen upon it not far from the precipice,
and, supposing, no doubt, that it would lead him to some encampment, he
had followed it up. Robin and his men also followed it--increasing
their speed as much as possible.
Night began to descend again, but Wapaw was not overtaken, despite the
Black Swan's prophecy. This, however, was not so much owing to the
miscalculation of the Indian, as to the fact that a great deal of time
had been lost in their futile endeavour to reach the sledge that had
fallen over the precipice.
About sunset they came to a place where the track turned suddenly at a
right angle and entered the bushes.
"Ha! the first travellers must have camped here, and Wapaw has followed
their example," said Robin, as he pushed aside the bushes. "Just so,
here's the place, but the ashes are cold, so I fear we are not so near
our Injun friend as we could wish."
"Well, it can't be helped," cried Stiff, throwing down his bundle;
"we've had plenty o' walkin' for one day, so I vote for supper right
off."
"I second the motion," said Walter, seizing his axe, "seein' that the
camp is ready made to hand. Now, Larry, get your pot ready."
"Sure it's stuffed full a'ready--an' I only wish I was in the same
state," said the Irishman, as he pressed the snow tightly into a tin
kettle, and hung it over the fire, which Slugs had just kindled.
The supper scene of the previous night was, in most of its details,
enacted over again; but it was resolved that each of the party should
keep watch for an hour, as, if the Indians had followed, there was a
possibility of their having gained on them during the delay at the
precipice.
Before the watch was set, however, and while all the party were enjoying
their pipes after supper, the Black Swan suddenly exclaimed, "Ho!" and
pointed with his finger to something which peeped out of the snow at
Larry's elbow, that volatile individual having uncovered it during some
of his eccentric movements.
"It's only an owld mocassin," said Larry, plucking the object from the
snow as he spoke; "some Injun lad has throw'd it away for useless."
"Hand it here," said Robin, re-lighting his pipe, which had gone out.
Larry tossed the mocassin to his leader, who eyed it carelessly for a
moment. Suddenly he started, and, turning the mocassin over, examined
it with close and earnest attention. Then he smiled, as if at his
passing anxiety, and dropped it on the ground.
"It reminded me," said he to Walter, "of my Nelly, for it has something
of the same shape that she was fond of, an' for a moment I was foolish
enough to think it might ha' belonged to the dear child, but--. Come,
Larry, have 'ee got any more tea there?"
"Is it tay ye want? faix, then, it's little more nor laves that's
remainin'," said Larry, draining the last drops into a pannikin; "well,
there's about half a mug-full, afther all; it's wonderful what can be
got out o' it sometimes by squaazin' the pot."
"Hand it over, that's enough," said Robin, "thank 'ee, lad--here's
luck."
He drained the pannikin as though it had been a glass of rum, and,
smacking his lips, proceeded leisurely to refill his pipe.
"Are ye sure it's _not_ one of Nelly's old mocassins?" asked Walter, as
he eyed the little shoe earnestly.
"Sure enough, nephy, I would know her mother's make among ten thousand,
an' although that one is oncommon like it in some respec's, it ain't one
o' _hers_."
"But Nelly might have made it herself," suggested Walter, "and that
would account for its bein' like her mother's in the make."
Robin shook his head. "Not likely," said he. "The child didn't use to
make mocassins. I'm not sure if she could do it at all; besides she was
last heard of miles and miles away from here in another direction. No,
no, Walter lad, we mustn't let foolish fancies bother us. However, the
sight o' this has fixed me to push on to-morrow as hard as I can lay my
legs to it, for if Wapaw's alive we can't fail to come up wi' him afore
sundown; and I'm keen to turn about an' go after my children. I'll push
on by myself if ye don't care to keep up wi me."
This latter remark was made to Stiff, whose countenance indicated that
he had no desire to undertake a harder day's march than usual. The
effect of the remark was to stir up all the Yankee's pride.
"I'll tell 'ee what it is, _Mister_ Gore," said he, tartly; "you may
think yourself an oncommon hard walker, but Obadiah Stiff is not the man
to cave in to any white man alive. I don't care to go trampin' over the
country day after day, like the Wandering Jew, after a redskin, as, I'll
go bound, ain't no better than the rest o' his kind; but if ye want to
see which of our legs is the best pair o' compasses, I'll walk with ye
from here to hereafter, I guess, or anywhar else ye choose; if I don't,
then my name ain't Stiff."
"It would be well av it worn't Stiff, for ye've no reason to be proud
o't," observed Larry O'Dowd, with a grin; "don't spake so loud, man, but
shut up yer potatie trap and go to roost. Ye'll need it all if ye
wouldn't like to fall behind to-morrow. There now, don't reply; ye've
no call to make me yer father confessor, and apologise for boastin';
good night, an' go to slape!"
The rest of the party, who had lain down, laughed at this sally, and
Stiff, on consideration, thought it best to laugh too. In a few minutes
every one in the encampment was sound asleep, with the exception of
Robin Gore, who took the first hour of watching, and who sat beside the
sinking fire like a Indian in earnest meditation, with his eyes resting
dreamily on the worn-out mocassin.