Produced by Al Haines
THE FRONTIERSMAN
_A Tale of the Yukon_
BY
H. A. CODY
TORONTO:
WILLIAM BRIGGS
_Copyright, 1910,_
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I Night in the Wilderness
II Abandoned
III The Grave in the Snow
IV "Where Is My Flock?"
V "For My Mother's Sake"
VI A Trick of Cowards
VII God's Gentlemen
VIII A Surprise
IX The Night Watch
X Constance Makes a Discovery
XI The Shot in the Night
XII The Uplift
XIII Pritchen Gets Busy
XIV The Unexpected Happens
XV The Summons
XVI The Miners' Meeting
XVII The Search
XVIII Yukon Jennie
XIX Caribou Sol
XX The Old Chief's Messenger
XXI Constance's Venture
XXII Old Pete
XXIII The Rumbling of the Storm
XXIV The Council
XXV The Light of the Cross
XXVI Guarded
XXVII Guided
XXVIII The Shadowed Glen
XXIX The Shining Trail
XXX The Consecration
THE FRONTIERSMAN
CHAPTER I
NIGHT IN THE WILDERNESS
Creek, swish! Creek, swish! hour after hour sounded forth the yielding
snowshoes as Keith Steadman, hardy northman and trailsman, strode
rapidly forward. For days he had listened to their monotonous music,
as he wound his devious way over valleys, plains, and mountain passes,
down toward the mighty Yukon River, pulsing on to the sea through the
great white silence.
There was snow everywhere. Snow on the river, sparkling like a million
diamonds; snow on the lakes, lying smooth and white. Snow on the
trees, hanging in beautiful, fairy-like clusters; snow on the
sun-kissed mountains, fleecy, golden, drifting. Snow, frosty, hard,
surrounding the traveller, pouring into his lungs at every breath,
clinging to his eyebrows, whitening his unkempt beard, and decorating
the furry fringes of his loose parka.
"Cold night," he muttered to himself, as he paused to readjust the rope
of the small sled he was drawing, to the right shoulder.
Then he glanced back over the trail, and a dark object arrested his
attention, drawing nearer and nearer.
"A wolf! and on my track, too! I expected as much in this desolate
spot," and the traveller unslung the small rifle from his back and
stood ready for action.
For some time the animal did not look up, but kept its nose close to
the ground, and trotted steadily on. Then it lifted its head, slowed
down to a walk, and at length stopped.
"I don't like that brute on my track at this time of the day," thought
Keith. "Perhaps a leaden message may give it a hint to travel
elsewhere."
He raised his rifle to his shoulder and took aim. Then he lowered it,
moved by some sudden impulse. "Why, I believe it's a dog, not a wolf
at all," and he gave a sharp whistle to the watching animal.
The dog, for so it was, pricked up its ears, moved forward, and
stopped; but no coaxing on the traveller's part could induce it to
advance any further. After trying in vain for some time to make
friends with the cur, Keith resumed his weary walk.
The short winter day was drawing to a close, and the sun had dipped
behind a tall, hoary peak. The shadows stealing over the land warned
him that night was shutting down, and camping time was near.
Ahead lay a clump of thick fir trees, which promised shelter and an
abundance of wood. Toward this he moved, the dog following some
distance behind. Reaching the place, it did not take him long to clear
away the snow from a suitable spot, using one of his narrow snow-shoes
as a shovel. This done, he built a fire from the dead trees standing
close by, and prepared a generous supply of fuel to last during the
cold night. With much skill, acquired through long practice, he soon
fashioned a cosy little nest on one side of the fire, from the
richly-scented fir boughs. To make the shelter more complete, he
erected in the background a brush barricade in the form of a
semi-circle, a few feet high. In front of this he spread a wolf-skin
robe.
"A palace fit for a king," he remarked, half aloud, as he glanced
around upon his handiwork. "Now for supper."
A little bacon, a few beans, a taste of sourdough bread, with some
black tea for a relish, formed the humble repast.
In the meantime the dog had crept close, attracted by the warm, bright
fire, and stood looking wistfully upon the bacon lying before him.
"Hungry, old boy, eh?" asked Keith. "You look as if you had eaten
nothing for a month. Well, then, here's a piece of bacon and bread.
To-morrow I'll try to snip a rabbit for you."
The ravenous beast seized eagerly the precious morsels, devoured them
with a gulp or two, and looked longingly for more.
"Can't do it, doggie," said Keith, noticing the animal's beseeching
eyes, "I've only a little left, and a hard trail lies ahead."
Then something around the dog's neck arrested his attention. It was a
small object fastened to a rude collar. What could it be?
"Come here, laddie," he called, "and let me see what you've got there."
The cur, however, kept at a safe distance, but showed a degree of
friendliness by short jerks of his tail.
"Perhaps a piece of bacon will bring him," and Keith held a portion
temptingly before his view.
The dog pricked up his ears, advanced, drew back, and looked around.
Then, squatting down upon his haunches, he lifted his nose into the air
and gave vent to a most doleful howl.
"Come on, old boy," encouraged Keith, still holding the bacon between
his fingers.
Little by little the dog approached, and with much coaxing was induced
to draw near, and after a time nestled by the man's side, where he
quickly devoured the coveted morsel of food.
"Now, let's see what you've got here," and Keith examined the object
attached to the collar.
It was a piece of brown paper, old and soiled, and evidently it had
seen hard usage. It was carefully folded, and tied with twine made up
of several short pieces. With the point of his hunting knife, Keith
cut the string, and when he had opened the paper he beheld a number of
words, scrawled with some red material, which looked much like blood.
By the flickering camp fire he managed with difficulty to decipher the
following startling message:
"For God's sake, help. I'm dying."
That was all, and for some time Keith held the paper in his hand and
gazed steadily into the fire.
"Strange," he mused. "Where could the animal have come from? I did
not know there was a white man near. But it must be some poor wretch
who has been stranded in this desolate region. Let me see. That dog
could not have travelled far in his present miserable condition. I
believe I could track him, and perhaps find his master either dead or
alive. But then that would mean great delay, and I hoped with hard
travelling to reach Klassan by to-morrow night. Besides, there is not
much food left, only a little bacon, bread, and a few beans. Oh, well,
I'll sleep on it, and in the morning perhaps I may see more clearly."
The fire roared cheerfully, seizing with avidity upon the dry fir
sticks. The sparks shot up into the darkness, whirling, twisting, and
dancing, like so many happy fairies. The tall trees stood out in bold
relief, sombre and silent. "Yes," he mused, "I believe it's a warning,
and I must no longer hesitate. That poor fellow needs help, and no
doubt this dog was guided by some good angel. I must go as soon as the
day breaks, and leave the matter of food to the Father's care."
With the fire well replenished, and the loaded rifle close at hand,
Keith rolled himself up in his wolf-skin robe and was soon fast asleep.
It seemed that he had lain but a short time, when he was aroused by a
weight pressing against his body, accompanied by a startling noise.
Half dazed, he lifted himself to a sitting posture and looked around.
The fire was almost out and the charred sticks were emitting but a
feeble glow. The weight against his body was caused by the dog,
huddling near as possible and growling in the most ferocious manner.
It did not take long to understand the creature's terror, for a sound
fell upon his ears which caused his heart to beat fast and a cold chill
to pass through his body. Out of the darkness came the long-drawn
howls, which he easily recognized. They were wolves, drawing nearer
and nearer, how many he could not tell. Quickly throwing a few fresh
sticks on the smouldering embers, he seized his rifle, examined it
carefully, and looked to the keen knife in his belt.
"Never mind," he remarked to the crouching form at his feet. "We'll
give them a warm reception, at any rate."
"O-o-o-ow. O-o-o-ow," came those awful sounds, at any time terrible to
hear, but at night in the lonely wild, how appalling!
Keith strained his eyes through the darkness in an effort to catch a
glimpse of the enemy. That they were bearing down upon him there was
no doubt. But look as he might nothing was to be observed except the
trees standing silently around. Presently the howlings ceased, and all
was still. What did this signify? That the wolves had gone on some
other scent? Ah, no. Keith was too well accustomed to the ways of
these creatures to believe such a thing. He knew that the stillness
was but a prelude to the storm; that the animals were stalking their
prey; that gleaming eyes were watching his slightest movement, and that
keen white fangs were bared, ready to tear him to pieces.
Not for an instant did he abate his watchfulness, and ere long he
beheld savage eyes, glowing like fiery balls, peering out of the night.
Nearer and nearer they drew, until the forms of the animals could be
dimly discerned. Then he brought the rifle to his shoulder, took
careful aim, and fired. Instantly a sharp yell split the darkness,
followed by fierce, snarling sounds, which plainly told that the fallen
brute was being devoured by its ravenous companions.
So quickly had all this taken place that before Keith had time for a
second shot, or even to throw out the empty shell and drive a loaded
one home, a huge beast sprang full upon him from the left.
Instinctively he leaped aside, and the wolf, missing his prey, landed
upon the fire only a short distance away. A cry of mingled pain and
rage ensued as the creature's feet touched the hot coals. Then
followed a scattering of sticks as the animal shot out of the fire and
bounded off into the depths of the forest.
So sudden was the attack, and unexpected the deliverance, that Keith
stared in amazement. Then a smile passed over his face at the thought
of the wolf's surprise, and the spectacle of his hurried retreat. His
merriment, however, was of short duration. There was stern work still
ahead.
So intent was he on peering into the darkness after the fleeing form
that he did not notice another large brute slinking stealthily up on
his right. With a snarl it sprang straight at him, and before Keith
could lift a hand in self-defence he staggered back, tripped over a
twig, and fell heavily to the ground. With one hand he seized the wolf
by the throat with a vise-like grip, while with the other he endeavored
in vain to draw forth his hunting knife.
At this critical moment the dog, which up to this time had presented
the appearance of abject terror, aroused suddenly to action. It rushed
upon the wolf like the incarnation of fury, and sinking its teeth into
the monster's side began to tear the quivering flesh.
Assailed from this new quarter, the wolf tried to turn back upon the
dog. This effort partly relieved the weight from Keith's body and
enabled him to grip the handle of his trusty knife. It took but an
instant to rip it from its sheath and plunge the keen, glittering point
into his antagonist's side. With a yell of pain the wolf attempted to
escape. It was too late; the blow had been sure, and ere long he was
quivering in death upon the ground, with the dog worrying him to the
last.
Keith at once sprang for his rifle, thrust in a loaded shell, and stood
awaiting the next move of his savage enemy.