By the short cut over the marsh it was not far to the tilt. At the end
of a half hour’s steady running Andy reached the woods that bordered
the western side of the marsh. It was here, at the edge of the forest,
that he and David had parted the previous morning.
The storm had obliterated every trace of their snowshoe tracks, but
Andy stooped to hastily search, in the dim starlight, for some recent
sign of David’s passing. There was no sign, and in feverish anxiety to
reach the tilt he tried to run, but in the shadows of the trees he
collided with overhanging limbs, and was compelled to pick his way
more slowly. Presently his sharp eyes made out, through an opening,
the stovepipe, rising above the drift which marked the position of the
tilt.
It was now that silent, dark hour just before dawn. Andy was sure that
if David was there he would be up, preparing to set out with the first
hint of light. If he were up he would have a fire in the stove, and
smoke would be issuing from the pipe. Between hope and fear Andy’s
heart almost stopped beating. He peered intently, but could see no
smoke. He hurried on, and a few steps farther the stovepipe was thrown
out in silhouette against the sky, and rising from it was a thin curl.
There was fire in the stove! David was there!
“Davy! Davy! Davy!” Andy shouted, half sobbing, with the break of the
nervous strain.
The door of the tilt opened, and David, bareheaded and wildly excited,
came rushing out.
“Oh, Andy! Andy! Is you safe?” he cried, passing his arm around Andy’s
shoulder in a depth of affection and passionate relief, and drawing
Andy into the warm tilt, while Andy made a brave effort to restrain
his tears.
“Oh, Davy!” broke in Andy, half crying with joy. “I were fearin’ for
you so! I were thinkin’ of you out there--in th’ mesh--dead! And oh,
Davy, I were--afraid--afraid for you!”
“And I were afraid for you, Andy!” choked David. “I were never
doubtin’ you were lost and perished! I couldn’t sleep for thinkin’ of
un, and I couldn’t go to look for you with th’ drift and darkness! I
just had t’ ’bide here till day broke! I tries and tries t’ go, but
th’ drift drove me back, and I knows I’ll have t’ wait for day.”
While Andy removed his outer garments and David prepared breakfast,
Andy described his experiences, and how he had made his shelter.
“Doctor Joe’s song helped me a wonderful lot,” said he. “It’s turned
out t’ be a true song, too. We were both safe, and there wasn’t
anything for either of us t’ worry about after all. And, Davy, I kept
my grit, now, didn’t I?”
“That you did!” declared David admiringly. “Even Indian Jake or Pop
couldn’t have fixed out a better place t’ ’bide till th’ storm
passed.”
“Davy,” said Andy reverently, “I’m thinkin’ th’ Lard were lookin’ out
for us, now, weren’t he, Davy? And--Davy--maybe Mother was lookin’ out
for us, too!”
“Aye,” said David, “th’ Lard _were_ lookin’ out for us, and I’m not
doubtin’ Mother was near, and helpin’ us, too.”
While they ate their breakfast David told of his own experiences.
“After I runs on th’ deer footin’ crossin’ th’ path,” he explained, “I
sets right out t’ get you, Andy. But all at once I thinks that, th’
footin’ being fresh, th’ deer is like as not ’bidin’ right handy, and
if I loses time goin’ for you I might miss un. So I turns back and
goes after un.”
“I sees where they makes a turn and gets scared, but I weren’t
thinkin’ o’ wolves, and I keeps hurryin’ on. I must have been right
handy to un when I hears a wolf howl, and right after that I comes t’
th’ place where th’ deer turned down toward th’ mesh again and th’
wolf tracks came in. Then I knows they’re gone, and there’s no use
keepin’ after un.
“I turns down then by a short cut t’ th’ next trap beyond where I
leaves th’ trail t’ turn into th’ green woods. Snow were just
beginnin’ t’ spit as I comes out on th’ mesh.”
“It were just beginnin’ t’ spit,” broke in Andy, “as I goes in th’
woods.”
“You must have turned into th’ woods t’ th’ westward of where I comes
out, and that’s why I didn’t see you,” suggested David.
“When I gets t’ our trail I sees your footin’ comin’ this way. Th’
snow wasn’t enough yet t’ cover un, so I could tell ’twas fresh
footin’. I says t’ myself, ‘Andy’s got hungry and tired waitin’ for
me, and he’s gone back t’ th’ tilt. He’s tended th’ traps t’ th’
east’ard, and I’ll take a short cut.”
“I didn’t hurry, and before I gets out of th’ mesh snow was comin’
thick and th’ wind was rising, and it was gettin’ pretty nasty on th’
mesh.
“When I gets t’ th’ tilt and finds you’re not here I’m thinkin’ you’ve
just been a bit slow, and that you’ll be along soon.
“So I puts a fire on and boils th’ kettle. When th’ kettle boils and
you don’t come, I puts on my ’diky and goes out t’ th’ mesh t’ look. I
never saw th’ wind rise th’ way she had in that little while. It took
me off my feet and sent me flat when I tries t’ face un. Then I knows
I can’t go on th’ mesh t’ look for you, and I knows you can’t stay
there and live.
“I was scared! I tries four or five times t’ get out t’ look for you,
Andy, but I has t’ give un up.”
“I’m thinkin’ you couldn’t go far in _that_ drift!” exclaimed Andy. “I
tried un too, and she knocked me flat.”
“Well,” concluded David, “that was all I could do, except t’ pray th’
Lard t’ spare your life, Andy. I had t’ ’bide here, and ’twas th’
hardest night I ever spent, waitin’ here alone for day t’ come so’s I
could look for you, and sore afraid for you, Andy. ’Twas your grit,
b’y, that pulled you through.”
“And I tries,” said Andy, “t’ keep a stout heart like a man’s, but at
th’ end, when I was most t’ th’ tilt, I had t’--give in.”
“You kept a wonderful stout heart, Andy,” David declared admiringly.
“I’d have given up before you did, I knows. I’m doubtin’ I ever could
have made th’ fine shelter you made, too.”
While the storm had probably not covered the marten traps, perched as
they were upon high stumps, and under cover of the woods, the exposed
fox traps on the marsh were doubtless all clogged by drift, and would
be ineffective unless cleared. The cross fox, too, which Andy had
killed and left in the trap, must be secured. It was deemed advisable,
therefore, to attend to these duties at once.
It was full daylight when the boys set out upon their day’s work. The
wind had settled now into a cold, cutting breeze, which was
disagreeable enough but which did not interfere with rapid walking.
They scanned the marsh for signs of the caribou but no evidences were
found. With wolves on their trail the caribou had doubtless fled the
country, and with them, immediate prospects of fresh venison.
“’Twere too bad we missed un,” David deplored. “I was almost to un, I
knows, when th’ wolves started in. I wish we could get some deer’s
meat.”
With every day the wilderness was becoming more naked and stern and
repellant. In the forest the snow had risen until it reached and
enveloped the lower limbs of the trees. Ravines were nearly filled
with snow. Willow brush, forming barriers around the marshes, were now
quite hidden by great drifts, and rose in mighty ramparts of snow. The
business of following the fur trails was growing more difficult with
every round of the traps. But the depths of winter had not yet been
reached. In the weeks to come the grip of Arctic cold was to tighten
still harder and harder upon the bleak wilderness and the living
things that occupied it. The two lads had a man’s game to play, and
they were to have need enough of all the grit they possessed.