The shock which Edith received on beholding the bloodstained countenance
of her companion completely paralysed her at first, but only for a few
minutes.
The feeling of certainty that Frank would perish if assistance were not
rendered tended to restore her scattered faculties, and nerve her heart
for the duties now required of her; and she rose with a feeling of
determination to save her companion or die beside him. Pour child! she
little knew the extent of her own feebleness at that moment; but she
breathed an inward prayer to Him who can, and often does, achieve the
mightiest results by the feeblest means.
Raising Frank's head from the snow, she placed it in her lap, and with
her handkerchief removed the blood from his forehead. In doing this she
observed, to her inexpressible relief, that he breathed freely, and
seemed rather to be in a state of stupor than insensibility. The place
where he lay was a dark rent or split in the mountain, the precipices of
which rose on either side to a height of between thirty and forty feet.
The top of this chasm was entirely covered over with a crust of snow,
through which there was a large gap immediately above the spot where
Frank lay, revealing at once the cause of his present sad condition. He
had evidently been crossing the ravine by means of the deceptive
platform of snow, unaware of the danger of his position, and had been
suddenly precipitated to the bottom. In descending, his head had struck
the side of the cliff, which cut it severely; but the softness of the
snow into which he fell saved him from further injury, except the
stunning effect of the fall. How long he had lain in this state Edith
had no means of knowing, but it must have been a considerable time, as
Chimo could not have left him until after his fall. Fortunately the
wolf had not touched him, and the wound in his head did not appear to be
very deep. Observing that parts of his face were slightly frostbitten,
Edith commenced to rub them vigorously, at the same time calling upon
him in the most earnest tones to speak to her. The effect of this
roused him a little. In a few minutes he opened his eyes, and gazed
languidly into the child's face.
"Where am I, Eda?" he said faintly, while a gentle smile played about
his lips.
"You are in the mountains, Frank. Dear Frank! do open your eyes again.
I'm so glad to hear your voice! Are you better now?"
The sound of his voice attracted Chimo, who had long ago abandoned the
pursuit of the wolf, and was seated beside his master. Rising, he
placed his cold nose on Frank's cheek. The action seemed to rouse him
to the recollection of recent events. Starting up on his knees, with an
angry shout, Frank seized the gun that lay beside him and raised it as
if to strike the dog; but he instantly let the weapon fall, and
exclaiming, "Ah, Chimo, is it you, good dog?" he fell back again into
the arms of his companion.
Edith wept bitterly for a few minutes, while she tried in vain to awaken
her companion from his state of lethargy. At length she dried her tears
hastily, and, rising, placed Frank's head on her warm cloak, which she
wrapped round his face and shoulders. Then she felt his hands, which,
though covered with thick leather mittens, were very cold. Making Chimo
couch at his feet, so as to imbue them with some of his own warmth, she
proceeded to rub his hands, and to squeeze and, as it were, shampoo his
body all over, as vigorously as her strength enabled her. In a few
minutes the effect of this was apparent. Frank raised himself on his
elbow and gazed wildly round him.
"Surely I must have fallen. Where am I, Edith?" Gradually his
faculties returned. "Edith, Edith!" he exclaimed, in a low, anxious
voice, "I must get back to the igloo. I shall freeze here. Fasten the
lines of my snowshoes, dear, and I will rise."
Edith did as she was desired, and immediately Frank made a violent
effort and stood upright; but he swayed to and fro like a drunken man.
"Let me lean on your shoulder, dear Eda," he said in a faint voice. "My
head is terribly confused. Lead me; I cannot see well."
The child placed his hand on her shoulder, and they went forward a few
paces together--Edith bending beneath the heavy weight of her companion.
"Do I lean heavily?" said Frank, drawing his hand across his forehead.
"Poor child!"
As he spoke he removed his hand from her shoulder; but the instant he
did so, he staggered and fell with a deep groan.
"O Frank! dear Frank! why did you do that?" said Edith, anxiously. "You
do not hurt me. I don't mind it. Do try to rise again."
Frank tried, and succeeded in walking in a sort of half-sleeping,
half-waking condition for about a mile--stumbling as he went, and often
unwittingly crushing his little guide to the ground. After this he fell
once more, and could not again recover his upright position. Poor Edith
now began to lose heart. The utter hopelessness of getting the wounded
man to advance more than a few yards at a time, and her own gradually
increasing weakness, induced the tears once more to start to her eyes.
She observed, too, that Frank was sinking into that state of lethargy
which is so dangerous in cold climates, and she had much difficulty in
preventing him from falling into that sleep which, if indulged in, is
indeed the sleep of death. By persevering, however, she succeeded in
rousing him so far as to creep a short distance, now and then, on his
hands and knees--sometimes to stagger a few paces forward; and at
length, long after the cold moon had arisen on the scene, they reached
the margin of the lake.
Here Frank became utterly powerless, and no exertion on the part of his
companion could avail to rouse him. In this dilemma, Edith once more
wrapped him in her warm cloak, and causing Chimo to lie at his feet,
hastened over the ice towards the igloo. On arriving she lighted the
lamp and heated the tea which she had made in the morning. This took at
least a quarter of an hour to do, and during the interval she
endeavoured to allay her impatience by packing up a few mouthfuls of
pemmican and biscuit. Then she spread the deerskins out on the couch;
and when this was done, the tea was thoroughly heated. The snow on the
river being quite hard, she needed not to encumber herself with
snow-shoes; but she fastened the traces of her own little sledge over
her shoulders, and, with the kettle in her hand, ran as fast as her feet
could carry her to the place where she had left Frank and Chimo, and
found them lying exactly as they lay when she left them.
"Frank! Frank! here is some hot tea for you. Do try to take some."
But Frank did not move, so she had recourse to rubbing him again, and
had soon the satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes. The instant he
did so, she repeated her earnest entreaties that he would take some tea.
In a few minutes he revived sufficiently to sit up and sip a little of
the warm beverage. The effect was almost magical. The blood began to
course more rapidly through his benumbed limbs, and in five minutes more
he was able to sit up and talk to his companion.
"Now, Frank," said Edith, with an amount of decision that in other
circumstances would have seemed quite laughable, "try to get on to my
sled, and I'll help you. The igloo is near at hand now."
Frank obeyed almost mechanically, and creeping upon the sled with
difficulty, he fell instantly into a profound sleep. Edith's chief
anxiety was past now. Harnessing Chimo to the sled as well as she
could, she ran on before, and a very few minutes brought them to the
snow-hut. Here the work of rousing Frank had again to be accomplished;
but the vigour which the warm tea had infused into his frame rendered it
less difficult than heretofore, and soon afterwards Edith had the
satisfaction of seeing her companion extended on his deerskin couch,
under the sheltering roof of the igloo. Replenishing the lamp and
closing the doorway with a slab of snow, she sat down to watch by his
side. Chimo coiled himself quietly up at his feet; while Frank, under
the influence of the grateful warmth, fell again into a deep slumber.
As the night wore on, Edith's eyes became heavy, and she too, resting
her head on the deerskins, slept till the lamp on the snow-shelf expired
and left the hut and its inmates in total darkness.
Contrary to Edith's expectations, Frank was very little better when he
awoke next day; but he was able to talk to her in a faint voice, and to
relate how he had fallen over the cliff, and how afterwards he had to
exert his failing powers in order to defend himself from a wolf. In all
these conversations his mind seemed to wander a little, and it was
evident that he had not recovered from the effects of the blow received
on his head in the fall. For two days the child tended him with the
affectionate tenderness of a sister, but as he seemed to grow worse
instead of better, she became very uneasy, and pondered much in her mind
what she should do. At last she formed a strange resolution. Supposing
that Maximus must still be at the Esquimau village at the mouth of False
River, and concluding hastily that this village could not be very far
away, she determined to set out in search of it, believing that, if she
found it, the Esquimau would convey her back to the igloo on the lake,
and take Frank up to Fort Chimo, where he could be properly tended and
receive medicine.
Freaks and fancies are peculiar to children, but the carrying of their
freaks and fancies into effect is peculiar only to those who are
precocious and daring in character. Such was Edith, and no sooner had
she conceived the idea of attempting to find the Esquimau camp than she
proceeded to put it in execution. Frank was in so depressed a condition
that she thought it better not to disturb or annoy him by arousing him
so as to get him to comprehend what she was about to do; so she was
obliged to commune with herself, sometimes even in an audible tone, in
default of any better counsellor. It is due to her to say that, in
remembrance of her mother's advice, she sought the guidance of her
heavenly Father.
Long and earnest was the thought bestowed by this little child on the
subject ere she ventured to leave her companion alone in the snow-hut.
Frank was able to sit up and to assist himself to the articles of food
and drink which his little nurse placed within his reach, so that she
had no fear of his being in want of anything during the day--or two at
most--that she expected to be absent; for in her childlike simplicity
she concluded that if Maximus could travel thither in a few hours, she
could not take much longer, especially with such a good servant as Chimo
to lead the way. Besides this, she had observed the way in which the
Esquimau had set out, and Frank had often pointed out to her the
direction in which the camp lay. She knew also that there was no danger
from wild animals, but determined, nevertheless, to build up the door of
the igloo very firmly, lest they should venture to draw near. She also
put Frank's loaded gun in the spot where he was wont to place it, so as
to be ready to his hand.
Having made all her arrangements, Edith glided noiselessly from the hut,
harnessed her dog, closed the door of the snow-hut, and jumping into the
furs of her sledge, was soon far away from the mountain lake. At first
the dog followed what she thought must be the track that Maximus had
taken, and her spirits rose when, after an hour's drive, she emerged
upon a boundless plain, which she imagined must be the shores of the
frozen sea where the Esquimaux lived. Encouraging Chimo with her voice,
she flew over the level surface of the hard frozen snow, and looked
round eagerly in all directions for the expected signs of natives.
But no such signs appeared, and she began to fear that the distance was
greater than she had anticipated. Towards the afternoon it began to
snow heavily. There was no wind, and the snow fell in large flakes,
alighting softly and without any sound. This prevented her seeing any
great distance, and, what was worse, rendered the ground heavy for
travelling.
At length she came to a ridge of rocks, and supposing that she might see
to a greater distance from its summit, she got out of the sledge and
clambered up, for the ground was too rough for the sledge to pass. Here
the view was dreary enough--nothing but plains and hummocks of ice and
snow met her view, except in one direction, where she saw, or fancied
that she saw, a clump of willows and what appeared to be a hut in the
midst of them. Running down the rugged declivity, she crossed the plain
and reached the spot; but although the willows were there, she found no
hut. Overcome with fatigue, fear, and disappointment, she sat down on a
wreath of snow and wept. But she felt that her situation was much too
serious to permit of her wasting time in vain regrets, so she started up
and endeavoured to retrace her steps. This, however, was now a matter
of difficulty. The snow fell so thickly that her footsteps were almost
obliterated, and she could not see ten yards before her. After
wandering about for a few minutes in uncertainty, she called aloud to
Chimo, hoping to hear his bark in reply. But all was silent.
Chimo was not, indeed, unfaithful. He heard the cry and responded to it
in the usual way, by bounding in the direction whence it came. His
progress, however, was suddenly arrested by the sledge, which caught
upon and was jammed amongst the rocks. Fiercely did Chimo strain and
bound, but the harness was tough and the sledge immovable. Meanwhile
the wind arose, and although it blew gently, it was sufficient to
prevent Edith overhearing the whining cries of her dog. For a time the
child lost all self-command, and rushed about she knew not whither, in
the anxious desire to find her sledge; then she stopped, and restrained
the pantings of her breath, while with both hands pressed tightly over
her heart, as if she would fain stop the rapid throbbing there, she
listened long and intently. But no sound fell upon her ear except the
sighing of the cold breeze as it swept by, and no sight met her anxious
gaze save the thickly falling snow-flakes.
Sinking on her knees, Edith buried her face in her hands and gave full
vent to the pent-up emotions of her soul, as the conviction was at
length forced upon her mind that she was a lost wanderer in the midst of
that cold and dreary waste of snow.