THROUGH THE ICE
With daylight it was seen that the tent of David and Roly, which had
formed the western end of the hut, was almost wholly destroyed; but
with the exception of several holes in a corner of the fly, the large
tent had escaped injury. This outcome was fortunate, for an extra small
tent had been provided. As for the bedding, the fine gray blankets were
not harmed in the least, but the down quilts, which had been spread
over them, suffered numerous punctures from the falling sparks, so that
the feathers flew in clouds whenever the quilts were moved, and it was
necessary to sew up the holes before setting out on the day's march.
The outlet of the lake, which they reached at noon, was a stream fifty
feet in width, and passed at first through a swampy region. Here, in
the tall dry marsh-grass, there were pools of open water. Camp was made
on a bluff,--the first high land beyond the swamp. A warm south breeze
blew steadily, and Uncle Will said it was doubtless the wind known in
the Pacific States as the "chinook." It might be expected to continue
without intermission for two or three weeks, and would make a quick
end of the sledding. Already the southern slopes of the hills were
bare, and many of them were green with killikinick, a low plant with
red berries and small evergreen leaves, not unlike those of garden box.
"I'm sorry for our mysterious friends," said Mr. Bradford, as he
finished pitching the large tent. "They'll be stranded on bare ground
pretty soon."
"That's so," said Uncle Will. "They'll cross the lake all right, but
I think the ice will go out of this river in two or three days. We're
none too soon ourselves. Hello! the wild geese have come." He pointed
to a dozen great gray birds, flying in a wedge-shaped flock, and
crying, "Honk! honk!"
"They're coming down," exclaimed Roly, excitedly. "Mayn't I go over
there, Father? I'm sure I could shoot some of them."
"Yes," replied Mr. Bradford; "but I'll go with you, because the ice is
treacherous in the swamp, and, besides, you are not quite expert yet in
the use of the gun."
"Bring us the fattest bird in the flock," shouted Uncle Will, as they
departed; "and we'll have a royal supper." So saying, he fell to
mending the gee-pole of his sled. With David's assistance, the pole was
soon as good as new.
"Now," said Uncle Will, "where's your rifle, Dave?"
"Packed on my sled."
"Go and get it. I saw some ducks in a stretch of open water back here,
and maybe we can do a little hunting on our own account."
This proposal tickled David immensely. He brought the rifle and a
handful of cartridges, and the two set off in a direction not quite
parallel to that taken by Mr. Bradford and Roly. A half-mile walk
brought them in sight of the ducks, five of them, near the icy edge of
a small opening; and by lying flat on the ice, they were able to creep
and slide toward them under cover of a clump of tall reeds. At length
Uncle Will whispered to David to take careful aim at one of them and
fire.
David was already sighting along the gun-barrel--his finger on the
trigger--when the report of Roly's shot-gun rang out behind a small
thicket of willows. The ducks at once took flight, to David's great
disappointment, but at the same moment the geese appeared, flying in a
confused manner directly toward their ambush.
"Quick, Dave, give me the gun," cried Uncle Will.
David instantly passed it over, and wonderingly watched his uncle as he
tossed it up to his shoulder.
"Bang!" went the rifle, and down tumbled a big bird from the centre of
the flock,--as fine a fat goose as ever graced a table. David fairly
danced with delight.
"There!" said Uncle Will, with a merry twinkle in his eye; "I'll wager
that this was the very goose Roly meant to kill."
"Don't you think he shot any, then?" asked David.
"I fancy the chances are he didn't."
And so it proved, when the four hunters reunited and compared notes.
David described his uncle's marksmanship with great enthusiasm, and Mr.
Bradford and Roly were quite ready to admit the brilliance of the feat.
In two places, next morning, the stream, on whose frozen surface they
travelled, broadened into lakelets, where progress over the smooth ice
was rapid and easy, but as soon as these were passed and the stream
narrowed again, difficulties appeared. Water was beginning to flow over
the ice through numerous cracks, and as the day advanced, many openings
had to be avoided. Often the centre of the river was wholly free from
ice, only a narrow strip remaining along each bank. In such cases,
they proceeded with great caution. The banks themselves were usually
impassable, by reason of thickets and trees, and the ice-strips offered
the only highway, but they were tilted at such an angle that the sleds
were constantly slipping sideways toward the water. At the worst spots
the united efforts of the party were required to move each load safely
past.
At length a point was reached, where they seemed absolutely blocked.
The firm ice on one side abruptly ended on a curve of the stream, and
it was necessary to cross to the other side. There was ice in the
centre at this point, but evidently too weak to bear a man's weight.
The boys could see no solution of the problem, except that of retracing
their steps. But the ice in the centre had been weak for a long
distance, and nobody wished to go back over such a weary course on the
slim chance of finding a crossing. It was Mr. Bradford who overcame
this emergency.
"Let us build a brush bridge," suggested he. "I believe it would
distribute our weight, and make the passage safe."
"The very thing," said Uncle Will, approvingly. "Strange I didn't think
of so simple a scheme."
All hands fell to work at once, chopping down willows and alders. Two
strong poplar saplings were laid across the weak ice three feet apart,
and the brush was thrown thickly over them. The Indians tested this
rude bridge, and the others followed, all passing over in safety.
But they were not destined to unbroken good fortune. It was soon
necessary to cross to the east bank again. This time, although there
were three inches of water on the ice in mid-stream, the ice itself
appeared to be reinforced by a second layer which had been thrust
beneath it. Coffee Jack and Lucky examined the situation with care,
then crossed with two sleds. Roly, David, and Mr. Bradford followed
without mishap. Then Uncle Will, the heaviest of the party, attempted
to do likewise; but in the very centre of the river the rotten ice
gave way without a moment's warning, and down went man and sled into
the cold, muddy water. It was deep, too,--so deep that Uncle Will
did not touch the bottom,--and as for the sled, only the tip of the
gee-pole remained above the surface. Fortunately, the current here was
not swift.
"Stand back, boys!" commanded Mr. Bradford, who saw in an instant the
thing to be done. Rushing to the shore, he cut a long willow with one
sweep of his knife, then, running to the edge of the hole, where his
brother had managed to support himself by treading water and grasping
the broken ice-cakes, he held out the end of the branch. Uncle Will
caught this, and was pulled to the edge of the strong shore-ice, where
he was seized by willing hands and drawn forth, his teeth chattering,
but his usual undaunted smile still in evidence as he remarked, "They
s-say it's a good th-thing to keep c-c-cool in case of accident.
N-nobody can say I'm not c-cool!"
This unexpected sally drew a burst of merriment from the boys, who, now
that the danger was over, were quite ready to appreciate the humorous
side of the incident. They admired their uncle more than ever for his
happy way of making light of discomforts.
But the sled and its precious provisions were still in the water, and
no time must be lost in rescuing them. How to do it, was the question.
The gee-pole was too far from the strong ice to be reached. If the thin
ice, against which it rested, were broken, it would probably sink out
of sight altogether.
Lucky finally fished up the drag-rope by means of a long pole, and
thus the sled was drawn toward the shore ice. All now took hold, and
their combined strength sufficed to haul it out of the water. Its load
was quickly unpacked, the sacks of flour were set on end in the sun
to drain and dry, as the dampness had not penetrated more than half
an inch through the canvas, and the contents of the clothing bag were
spread upon a log. A bag of sugar was the only total loss. Meantime,
a huge fire was built on the bank, in the warmth of which Uncle Will
changed his clothing.
Further progress that day was unadvisable, and indeed, Uncle Will
declared that if they had covered seven miles, as he believed was the
case, they were practically at their journey's end.