COALS OF FIRE.
"There's someone out there sure's you're alive," Bob shouted as he
closed the door. "Come on, we've got to make it snappy," he said, as he
began to pull on his moccasins.
"Who in the world can it be?" Jack asked, as he donned his mackinaw and
pulled his cap well down over his ears.
In another moment they were fastening their snow-shoes on their feet on
the porch.
"I believe it's worse than when we came in if such a thing is possible,"
Jack declared, shouting at the top of his voice, in order to make
himself heard, as they started toward the lake.
And such seemed to be the case. It was impossible to see more than a
half dozen feet ahead and the rays from their flashlights availed but
little against the thick cloud of falling snow. Every few steps they
paused to listen, but not a sound save the roar of the wind and the
creaking of the trees as they bent their lofty tops to the strength of
the blasts, came to their ears.
"He must have given out," Bob shouted, as they paused again at the end
of the wharf, "and unless we find him mighty quick he'll be buried."
"Well, we can only do our best," Jack shouted back, as he plunged
forward, sinking nearly to his knees in the light snow, despite his
snow-shoes.
Until they were out on the lake, facing into the storm, they had not
realized the full strength of the wind; but here, where it had a clear
sweep, they were hardly able to stand against it. But bending low, they
crept on inch by inch, the beating particles of snow stinging their
faces like so many needles.
"It's worse than looking for a needle in a hay stack," Jack yelled as
they again stopped to listen. "But," he added, "he can't be very far
away or we'd never have heard him."
"I believe we're out far enough," Bob declared a few minutes later. "He
could hardly have been farther away than this. Suppose you circle round
to the right and I'll do the same to the left. Yell if you find
anything," he shouted, as he started off at right angles to the course
they had been pursuing.
It was perhaps ten minutes later that he was brought to a sudden stop by
the sound of his brother's voice faintly piercing the storm.
"Oh, Bob, I've found him."
"I'm a coming," he shouted, retracing his steps as rapidly as possible.
"Keep calling," he added, bending his head to avoid so far as possible
the stinging snow.
Facing directly into the storm it seemed to the boy that he would never
reach his brother, but at last he caught sight of him less than a dozen
feet ahead. Jack was on his knees in the snow holding a man's head close
against his breast.
"He's pretty far gone, I'm afraid," he shouted, as Bob plowed his way to
his side. "He was entirely covered with the snow and I'd never have
found him if I hadn't stepped on him," he explained.
"It's no wonder he gave out," Bob declared a moment later, as he took
hold of the man's feet and pulled them out of the snow. "One of his
snow-shoes has given out and his foot has gone clean through it. But we
must get a move on and get him to the cabin, if we can," he added
doubtfully.
It was indeed a task to test the endurance of the strongest. The man was
large and heavy, but with a prayer on their lips, they did not hesitate.
Quickly removing the man's snow-shoes, Bob fastened them together by
their thongs and slung them on his back.
"You take his feet and I'll lead," he ordered, as he got his right arm
under his shoulder pit. It was all he could do to straighten up under
the load, but he managed it and they started. How they made it neither
could tell; but, as Bob afterward declared, God must have given them the
strength necessary. Foot by foot they plowed through the deep snow,
sinking far down at every step, and obliged to stop to rest every few
minutes.
If the task was difficult while they were still on the lake, it was
doubly so when they reached the shore. The cabin sat on a sharp rise
about a hundred feet from the lake, and it took them all of half an hour
to make that short distance. It was literally inch by inch that they
struggled on, praying that their strength would hold. Not once since
they started had the man given the slightest indication of life, and the
thought that he might even now be dead was discouraging. But, as Jack
had declared when they had started out, they had done their best and
they could leave the rest in the hands of God.
Finally, when their endurance seemed at the breaking point, they
struggled onto the porch, and with what seemed his last ounce of
strength, Bob pushed open the door not waiting to remove his snow-shoes.
A good fire still burned in the fireplace and dragging the heavy body
onto the bear skin directly in front of it, they quickly removed their
snow-shoes, after which they stood for some moments leaning against the
sides of the mantle exposing their half-numbed bodies to the grateful
heat. But they both realized that this was a time when minutes might
well mean the difference between life and death, and as soon as the
first sign of returning strength began to flow back into their tired
bodies, they sat to work.
"If you'll make some strong coffee, Jack, I'll be getting the blankets
warm," Bob said, as he started up the stairs. He returned almost
immediately, his arms full of thick woolen blankets which he draped over
the backs of chairs as near the fire as he dared.
"I suppose whiskey or brandy is what he ought to have," he thought, "but
we haven't got any of either and I guess coffee is the next best thing."
The form on the bear skin was lying face down and now Bob turned him
over and, unbuttoning the heavy mackinaw, he placed his ear on his
chest. For a moment he could detect no signs of life, but just as he was
about to give up, he moved his head a trifle and his quick ear caught
the faint sound of heart beats.
"Thank God, he's alive," he breathed as he lifted his head and for the
time glanced at the man's face. "Why, it's Jean Larue," he gasped in
surprise. "If that don't beat the Dutch," and he hurriedly ran to the
kitchen to tell Jack.
"Well of all things, to think of an old stager like that getting lost up
here where he has lived all his life," Jack declared as he poured out a
cup of very black coffee.
"It was probably that broken snow-shoe," Bob said, adding: "Anyhow he's
alive and we must get him into bed as soon as we can."
It was the work of but a minute to strip off the man's outer clothes and
wrapping him in the blankets now thoroughly warmed, they lifted him to a
large couch, which they pulled as close to the fire as they could.
"Now let's see if we can get some of that coffee into him," Bob said.
It was slow work but by dint of much perseverance they managed to get a
few spoonsful of the liquid down his throat.
"Better see if his hands or feet are frozen," Jack suggested, as he
pulled off one of his moccasins. "I guess they're all right," he
announced a moment later, as he dropped the other one to the floor. "How
about his hands?"
"They're all right. I think it's more exhaustion than cold," Bob
declared. "I don't believe you could freeze one of those Kanucks
anyway," he added as he raised the man's head again and told Jack to see
if he could get some more of the hot coffee down him. "His heart is
getting stronger," he announced a moment later, "and he seems to be
breathing quite easily now. He'll be all right before long, see if he
isn't." And his prediction was correct, for in a few minutes the man
gave vent to a long moan and slowly opened his eyes.
"Drink this," Bob ordered, as he raised his head and held the cup to his
lips.
"I go Heaven, oui?" the man whispered faintly, as Bob laid his head back
after he had swallowed nearly a cupful of coffee.
"Not exactly," Bob laughed. "You're still on the earth but you had a
pretty narrow call all right. Now you'd better not talk any just now.
Just rest and we'll get you something to eat."
In a few minutes Bob had ready a steaming bowl of oatmeal gruel which
the man ate greedily and strength seemed to almost rush back into his
body as the hot food warmed his stomach.
"Now you go to sleep," Bob ordered, when the last of the gruel had
disappeared. And it was not many minutes before his deep breathing
indicated that he had obeyed the order.
"He'll be all right now if he don't get pneumonia, and I don't think
that's likely," Bob said as he laid his hand on the man's forehead. "He
hasn't a speck of fever so far."
It was now after eleven o'clock and they decided that it would be safe
to go to bed as Jean would probably sleep for a long time if
undisturbed.
"I'll hear him if he wakes up," Bob assured his brother, as they threw
themselves in the bed in the little bedroom which opened out of the
living room. "It's lucky we've got plenty of blankets," he muttered
sleepily, as he pulled them up around his neck.
During the night the storm blew itself out and when soon after eight
o'clock Bob opened his eyes, the sun was shining in at the window. Jack
still slept on and he got out of bed carefully so as not to waken him. A
good bed of coals still glowed in the fireplace, and soon he had a
roaring fire sending a shower of sparks up the broad chimney. The
crackling of the fire woke Jean, and when Bob returned to the living
room after starting a fire in the cook stove, he was sitting up.
"How you feel?" he asked.
"Feel ver' goot, but ver' hungry," was the reply, as he got to his feet.
"Well, we'll remedy that last symptom in short order," Bob laughed as he
threw some more wood on the fire.
Jack did not waken until breakfast was on the table, then he came from
the bedroom with a sheepish look on his face.
"Why didn't you let a fellow sleep all day?" he demanded.
"It's all right, old man. You needed it and there was nothing you could
do," Bob assured him, giving him a good hug.
It was evident that Jean had nearly recovered his strength and would
soon be as good as ever.
"It takes a lot to kill one of those fellows," Bob whispered to Jack as
they were washing the dishes.
With a few strips of rawhide which Bob found, Jean soon had the broken
snow-shoe repaired temporarily and by eleven o'clock they were ready to
start for the camp.
"But you haven't told us how you came to get lost," Bob said as he
pulled on his mackinaw.
"I go Nor'East Carry yes'day mornin'. Come back, she ver' hard goin',
geet ver' tired, then shoe she bust, no can mak' mooch go. See light in
here, then yell, then no more," Jean explained in his broken English.
"You save life, me ver' mooch tank, no ought. Me no goot, trow ax on
purpose, ver' sorry now. You no forgive, non?"
"Surest thing you know, old man. Forget it. We'll be great friends from
now on. How about it?" and Bob held out his hand, a kindly smile on his
face.
The Frenchman had held his eyes steadily on the floor as he stammered
out the confession, and it took some time for Bob's eager words of
forgiveness to penetrate his understanding. "An eye for an eye" has
always been his creed and he was slow to grasp any other. But as he
glanced up and saw the outstretched hand and the smile which accompanied
it, the true meaning of forgiveness entered his mind for the first time
in all his life. Tears glistened in his eyes as he grasped the proffered
hand and stammered:
"Oui, we friends, you let me."
"All right, that's settled," Bob declared joyfully, as Jack in turn held
out his hand.
The going, though still heavy, was not so bad as they had feared, as the
wind had packed the snow to some extent, and for the most of the way
their snow-shoes sank only three or four inches. They reached the camp
shortly after one o'clock and were received with shouts of joy by the
crew.
"Sure an' we were jest after startin' out ter look fer yez," Tom Bean
declared as he followed them to the mess house, where, between
mouthfuls, they told him of their adventure. Not until Jean had left
them, declaring that he was all right and was going to work, did Bob
tell the foreman about his conversation with the Frenchman.
"Do yer think he meant it?" Tom asked as he finished.
"I'm sure of it," Bob replied. "You'll see that Jean's a different man
or I miss my guess. But why all the gloom?" he asked, as for the first
time he noted a worried look on Tom's face.
"Sure an' the devil's ter pay," and the foreman shook his head sadly.
"Well, shoot it," Jack demanded.
"It's hooch, so it is."
"Hooch," repeated both boys in the same breath. "Where are they getting
it?"
"Sure an' it's meself thot don't know thot same, but six or seven of
them were drunk last night and it's sick men they are this day," and
again he shook his head. "It's nadin' ivery man we've got it is ter fill
thot contract."
"I'll bet it's some more of Big Ben's work," Jack declared as he got up
from the table. "Anyhow we've got to find out where they are getting it
and put a stop to it. Do you know when they got it?" he asked, turning
to Tom.
"It must a bin some time yes'day afternoon fer they were all right at
dinner time," Tom told him.
Fully three feet of snow had fallen during the night and it took the
crew all of that day to get the tote road shoveled out and the snow
cleared away at the chopping. That meant the loss of a day so far as
getting the lumber out was concerned, and the boys could see that Tom
was much worried.
Until a late hour that night Tom and the boys sat in the office
discussing the situation.
"It's evident that Ben doesn't intend to stop at anything to keep Father
from filling that contract," Bob declared. "But why do you suppose he is
so anxious to do it? Is it just a matter of spite?"
"Not at all, at all. Yer see if yer father falls down on thot contract,
then Ben thinks he'll be dead sure ter land it nixt year," Tom
explained.
"I see, and there are so many ways that he can put a spoke in our wheel
that we've got to be mighty sharp to get the better of him," and Bob
gave Jack a glance which told him that it was up to them to do it.
The stars were still shining the next morning when the two boys crept
quietly from their bunks and groped their way to the door. Once outside
they quickly made their way to the office where they kept their
snow-shoes.
"It's more than likely a wild goose chase but we've got to do
something," Bob said as he took a 38 Winchester from the closet.
"But what makes you think some one's coming today?" Jack asked as they
were fastening their snow-shoes.
"Well, I'll tell you. I didn't dare tell Tom for fear he wouldn't let us
go; but last night, just before supper, I was out back of the cook
house. It was dark, of course, and I heard two of the men talking only a
few feet away but I couldn't see them. I was hunting for my knife which
I missed and thought I knew just where I had dropped it, right by that
big spruce, the one where we were digging gum just before dark you know.
Well, I didn't pay any attention to them till I heard one of them say,
'He say he be out by big pine this morning.' That was all I heard, as
they walked away then. Now it may be something entirely different of
course, but I believe that someone is going to bring some more of that
stuff this morning."
"Why not tell Tom and try to catch him?" Jack asked.
"Because that might make some of the men mad and then they'd up and
quit. You know how fickle they are. They want the stuff and we've got to
keep them from getting it without letting them know that we're doing
it."
By this time they were ready to start and swinging the rifle beneath his
arm Bob led the way toward Big Ben's camp. It was twenty below by the
thermometer on the office porch, but there was no wind, and without wind
the clear dry air of Northern Maine is not penetrating.
"I have an idea that he'll start about daybreak so we want to find a
good hiding place before it begins to get light," Bob said as they swung
along between the towering spruces.
The snow had settled enough to make good snow-shoeing and they made good
time although it was still dark when Jack who was in the lead stopped.
"I guess we're there," he whispered, "I can see a light just a little
ahead."
"It's in the cook house, I guess," Bob said, moving a little to one side
to get a better view. "Yes, that's it," he added in a low voice, "now to
find a good hiding place. Let's go over this way a bit."
"Here's just the place," Jack declared a few minutes later, as he spied
a thick clump of bushes in between two large pines.
It was indeed an ideal place for their purpose and just as the first
hint of the coming day was showing in the east, they crouched down in
their hiding place.
"Hope we don't have to wait long," Jack whispered, "because it's not
exactly warm here."
His hopes were realized for they had not been there more than fifteen
minutes when his sharp ears caught the creaking of snow.
"Somebody's coming," he whispered, and soon they could see a man coming
toward them. It was now fairly light and as he came nearer they could
see that he carried a jug in one hand.
"You hit it all right," Jack whispered.
Just then the man caught sight of the tracks of their snow-shoes and
stopped as though undecided what to do. But after a short pause he
started off again.
Suddenly the sharp report of a rifle rang through the forest and the jug
smashed in pieces.
"Honestly, if ever a man was scared it was that fellow, and I nearly
died trying not to laugh," Jack afterward told Tom.
For an instant the man stood as if petrified; then, with a wild yell, he
turned and started back. In his haste he tripped and fell headlong in
the deep snow. He was so scared that it took him some little time to get
on his feet again, but he finally accomplished it and soon disappeared.
"Come on now we've got to beat it," Bob said, as he crept out of the
hiding place closely followed by Jack.
"I don't believe they'll try it that way again very soon," Jack panted
as they made the best time possible toward home.
"Where in the name of goodness yer been?" Tom was standing in the
doorway of the office as they returned.
"Just taking a morning stroll," Jack laughed. "Did you save any
breakfast for us?"
"Sure an' I guess cookie'll give yer some, but I thought sure ye'd gone
an' got inter some kind o' fix agin, so I did."
When they had finished telling him of their trip, Tom laughed long and
loudly.
"Sure an' who but ye'd iver have thought of it? I'd give a year of me
life ter have seen thot guy when his jug went smash. Sure an' it's
meself thot's bettin' thot he thought the devil was after him."
Six of the crew were nearly an hour late at work that morning. Bob saw
them crossing the clearing as he was coming from the mess house after he
had finished his belated breakfast. Stepping back into the room he
watched them from the half-closed door.
"They seem disappointed about something," he said to Jack, who had
joined him.
"I guess the party they were looking for failed to materialize," Jack
laughed as he watched them. "I wonder if those fellows could talk at all
if their hands were tied behind their backs," he added, laughing at
their vigorous gesticulations.
"It would certainly be a serious handicap to them," Bob declared, as he
stepped outside the door. Before Jack had time to follow him, however,
he dodged back again.
"Now for it," he said, closing the door. "Who do you suppose is making
us a call?"
"From your excitement I should guess it's Big Ben himself," Jack quickly
replied.
"Right the first time. Now watch for fireworks."