CHAPTER XVI

Choosing a Fortress

Barely ten minutes had passed from the moment when Hank led the way

downhill, from the spot where he and his comrades had taken up their

position and had repulsed the enemy, till the little hunter suddenly

lifted an arm, bringing the party to an abrupt halt. Then he signalled

to Beaver Jack, and with the lean, lanky figure of the Redskin beside

him, stood listening intently. A second later all three were lying

flat on their faces.

"You kin hear folks moving somewhars about," whispered the little

hunter in Joe's ear, "but where they aer is more'n I kin say at the

moment. Yer see, the snow makes things mighty difficult, while the

tree trunks break up every sound and scatter it in all directions. But

them critters is moving near. Seems likely they ha' halted for a

while."

Tense silence fell upon the three, while each one huddled his body

deeper into the snow, edging behind the largest tree and doing his

utmost to make himself invisible. Hank, indeed, burrowed beneath the

snow, and extracting huge handfuls of the white crystals, tossed them

over his body.

"In course no half-breed and no Injun would pass us within a hundred

yards and not see us," he said grimly. "But every little helps in

cases like this. S--s--sh! Didn't I hear someone callin'?"

"Down there." Joe pointed eagerly downhill, hardly even whispering the

words. And then, quite plainly to the ears of every one of the party,

there came the note of a human voice, subdued and eager. Rising in

cadence for the instant, it fell immediately and then died away

altogether. Afterwards not a sound disturbed the ghostly silence of

the patch of forest through which they were passing; that is, not a

sound audible to our hero. Hank's staring eyes and the eager

expression on the hawk-like face of the Redskin told their own story.

They heard something. To them the presence of the enemy was evident.

Ah! Joe buried his head still deeper, for away in the distance a

figure came of a sudden into view sliding silently between the tree

trunks. A second followed, muffled to the eyes; a third, a fourth,

till eight in all were visible. Perhaps two hundred yards separated

them from Joe and his comrades. Perhaps they were even closer. In any

case, their proximity was such that the little party in hiding was in

the utmost danger. One point, however, was in their favour. The enemy

were facing the west, and were cutting across the line of flight which

our hero had suggested. A minute passed, then two. It began to look

as if the danger would be gone in a few moments. Then, of a sudden,

that low-pitched, eager voice was heard again, and, raising his head

ever so slightly, Joe saw that the enemy had halted and were now

bunched together.

"Talking it over," he told himself, hearing voices. "They have an idea

that they have come far enough west, and that now they had better cut

uphill again, having got well behind us. Wish they had gone on another

hundred yards or so, then there wouldn't have been any danger."

"The critters!" he heard Hank growl. "Ef they ain't turning uphill at

this instant!"

That indeed seemed to be the intention of the enemy; for, breaking from

the circle into which they had collected, they went off again in single

file, one burly individual leading. As for the features of these

unfriendly strangers, what they were like and of exactly what

nationality, neither Joe nor Hank nor Beaver Jack had the smallest

inkling; for the enemy one and all were thickly clad in furs, muffled

to their eyes, and at that distance seemed to be merely grotesque

bundles of clothing. This, however, was certain--they were adepts at

the art of snowshoeing. Not one but was accustomed to the forest, for

beyond a voice or two not another sound had come from them. Facing the

hillside, they curled off in that direction and slowly moved upward.

"It aer a toss up," Hank whispered, under his breath. "Yer see, now

that they've turned they gets a broadside view of where we're lying

instead of a head-on view. See here, Joe, ef they spots us, jest get

in behind a tree and pepper 'em; if they don't, be ready to move off

the instant we're able. Seems to me as ef I've an idea that'll bother

them badly."

The ten minutes which followed were trying, for once again the enemy

halted, gathering together to discuss the situation. It appeared as if

they were a little uncertain of their position, and at one moment they

appeared to be on the point of proceeding in the direction which they

were taking when first Joe and his friends saw them. But at last they

went on again and slowly passed out of hearing.

"That war a near go," whispered Hank, with a sigh of relief, as he rose

to an erect position. "Now fer that idea of mine. Yer see, we've got

to bother 'em badly, fer it won't be long afore they comes upon the

spot where we were lying. In course there'll be a hullabaloo at once,

and back they'll come after us. Ef they're sure of the line we've

taken they'll cut clear across for their sleighs, and then there won't

be a dog's chance for us. Joe, look lively jest now, and see as you do

as you see me and Beaver Jack doing."

He faced downhill without another word, while the Redskin fell in

behind him. Indeed, the silent man seemed to have already guessed at

Hank's intentions, or was it that the cunning learned by all hunters is

of such a class that their minds move always on parallel lines, and

difficulties are met in almost similar fashion? Whatever the reason,

Beaver Jack seemed to have guessed intuitively what Hank's plan was to

be, and fell in behind him without uttering a syllable. Then came Joe,

watching closely, wondering what new tricks he would see put into

execution.

"It aer plain," began Hank, when at length he had reached the track

along which the enemy had so recently passed, "it aer clear as daylight

that when them critters finds that we have moved, they will come

dashing downhill as ef there was demons behind 'em. They'll come along

in our tracks, and ef we was to cross their own here and cut a line of

our own, why, in course there wouldn't be any need for 'em to wait to

look about for the direction. So here we plays an old Injun game that

ain't so often practised in these days--now!"

He swung round, and moving a few paces beside the track which the

half-breeds had followed, joined it at an acute angle, making it appear

as if he and his comrades were going in the same direction. Then the

wily little hunter stepped out of his snowshoes and, reversing his own

direction, thrust his warmly-moccasined feet into them in the reverse

order.

"Yer catch the idea?" he grinned. "Now I walks along the way they

came, but to look at the marks I'll leave you'd think I was jest going

along with them. It aer said that a bear'll walk backward to his

winter lair so as to deceive his enemies. That's what we're doing."

With shoes reversed, the little fellow set off at once, halting for a

few seconds, once he had passed his comrades, so as to enable each in

turn to step on to the track and face about. Then the three proceeded,

the turning of their shoes making no great difference to their

movement. As to the track they left, it was inextricably mixed up with

the marks made by the enemy, and seeing that their snowshoes were

reversed, it appeared that they were following the same direction.

"Not as a Redskin nor a half-breed wouldn't spot the thing right off,"

whispered Hank, "that is, ef it war a fresh track we was making; for it

aer natural for a man to put his heel down heavily, even when carrying

a snowshoe, and a practised tracker, same as these half-breeds, would

see that the front part of our shoes is pressed into the snow. But

here there's the marks of eight pairs of shoes already, and our

three'll mix up nicely with 'em. Now, boys, let's git along slick;

every second'll be of importance."

It was in silence after that that they thrust their way through the

forest, and seeing that the direction the enemy had taken took the

little party downhill, their pace was extremely rapid. Perhaps half an

hour later Hank again came to a halt, pointing before him.

"Here we takes our own line," he said. "I guess those critters cut

downhill amongst the trees yonder till they had got below a fold in the

ground which would hide them. Then they swung straight across for our

side, knowing that we couldn't see 'em. Wall, we'll do the same; we'll

strike straight out into the open and, cutting away from their track,

dive down the hill into the valley. After that we'll make a bee-line

for the camp, and there make ready for the ruction that's bound to

follow. Seems to me, Joe, as ef I'd already got an idea of a spot that

would give us cover."

"Stop! Listen!" suddenly exclaimed our hero, raising one hand and

standing in the position of keen attention. "I heard sounds from

behind us. I feel sure that----"

"Yer ain't got no need to tell us what it aer," said Hank curtly, in

the abrupt way he had when something specially stirred him. "Them

critters has got to the point where they hoped to spring upon us and

wipe us out, and they aer fair bustin' with rage to find that we've

given 'em the slip. They'll be tumblin' downhill now as fast as their

legs will bring 'em, and ef it warn't that we've put up a fine start

and have left something behind to worry 'em a little, they'd be on our

heels afore we could look round. Now, Beaver Jack, guess we've a long

chase afore us; you kin take the lead and strike slick for the camp.

I'll go behind and keep a weather eye open for them critters."

There was perfect order and coolness amongst the little party, though a

glance at any one of the faces showed that all appreciated the danger

of their position. No one, indeed, could have failed to gather that

discovery of their escape would bring the whole pack of half-breeds

chasing after them; the exchange of shots between the two parties, and

the fact that the enemy had been the first to open fire proved, if

proof were wanted, that a closer approach on their part would result in

more shots, and in the slaying of Joe and his friends, if that were

possible.

"But why? What is the attack made for?" Joe found himself saying under

his breath again and again. "We don't look to be rich, I'm sure.

We're just ordinary trappers or prospectors, and from what I have

gathered such people don't carry much in the way of money with them.

The rich prospectors, also, don't dream of setting out into the

backwoods during the winter. They choose the spring and summer for two

reasons, I guess. One, because then they can see the land, for there

isn't any snow, and so can search for the veins of metal which attract

them; and secondly, because they haven't severe weather to face. It

beats me hollow; one would have thought that these men had been set

upon us for some other purpose than that of robbery."

It was one of those questions, in fact, which would have taken a more

worldly-wise fellow than Joe to answer; indeed, had he but known the

true reason of this unlooked-for and undeserved attack, he would have

been astounded. For the band then shrieking and shouting behind them,

and at that moment dashing downhill on their snowshoes, had set out to

search for our hero and his friends. They had hunted high and low for

the trace of two prospectors, for the snowshoe marks left by Joe and

Hank, and had fallen upon those marks prior to their joining hands with

Beaver Jack. But the accession of one to the number of the little

party made not the smallest difference. Why should it? There were

nine in this gang, and only three in the other.

But Joe had other things to do than to worry his head as to reasons.

After all, what did it matter who this enemy was? What difference

could knowing make to our hero and his friends? For enemies are much

the same all the world through. Once it is demonstrated that they aim

at the slaying of those they follow, all come under the same heading.

All are dangerous, and it behoves those who have to defend their lives

to take the utmost precautions.

Beaver Jack therefore led the flight at a speed which suited Joe, who

did not find it very hard to keep up, seeing that the way lay downhill.

As for the Redskin, he might have been out for a promenade only; his

shoes slid over the now hard-frozen surface with a queer little

rustling sound, seeming to carry the user's legs rather than to require

effort on his part. His head was sunk low down upon his breast, his

hooked nose and upturned chin approximated. But nothing escaped this

man of the woods, this child of nature, whose hearing and instincts

were as developed as those of the wildest animal.

Hank made a pretty, if a rugged picture. The little man seemed almost

to have his ears cocked backwards. In any case, they lay flat against

his head, the coon-skin cap just dropping on to them. His head was

erect, and even as he slid along over the snow there was little doubt

that not a sound escaped him.

"Them critters ha' jest come to the spot whar we dropped in on their

trace," he growled. "You kin tell as they're finely bothered. Seems

to me they'll send a party forward and one along this way, and in a bit

we shall hear a hullabaloo that'll be loud enough to scare the moose

this side of the big lakes. You ain't tired, Joe?"

"Not I!" came the hearty answer. "Could go on for a while longer."

"Then you'll have need. There won't be so much between us by the time

we reach camp; then it'll be a case fer thinkin'."

As if the question of their further movements bothered him, as indeed

it did, his fingers slid up beneath his cap, a habit the little fellow

had, and played with a loose lock of his thick hair; for Hank's hair

was thick. Barbers do not live round the corner in the backwoods of

Canada, and a long crop of hair is rather an advantage to a man when

the temperature is below zero. It followed, therefore, that Hank's

head was well covered, and Joe's also. Indeed, our hero showed a

somewhat ungainly growth of fluff about chin and cheeks and upper lip,

which, if it made promise of budding manhood, could not be said to be

expressly elegant. But there again your backwoodsman shines. The man

who carries all his belongings with him upon his back and sets off for

a winter, meaning to spend it in the open air, subsisting on what his

gun can procure for him, is not likely to be over-nervous as to his

appearance. Hair will grow, and garments will become rent, even with

the greatest care. Life also is too strenuous to make smaller things

matter. Suffice it to say that Joe looked a gentleman in spite of his

get-up, while already he had proved himself a jovial and boon

companion, one ready to enjoy sport if it came, to take the rough with

the smooth, and to face danger as if it were part of the day's

happenings.

"Ha! There they go, yelping like a pack o' dogs," cried Hank, a little

later, when shouts and yelps came resounding from the forest and across

the snow-clad face of the hillside. "Let 'em yell! It don't do us no

harm, and don't bring the critters any nearer.

"How far now to camp?" asked Joe, swinging his head round.

"Guess we're more'n halfway; in half an hour we shall do it. Suppose

these fellers has been there already and has cleared all that we left."

The suggestion was disconcerting, for supposing the enemy had taken all

the worldly belongings of this little party, how could they face a

prolonged journey? In the summer it would make but little difference,

for a stew-pan and a kettle are not absolute necessaries. Compared

with the needs of the Redskins, they are merely luxuries, though long

acquaintance with those useful articles has made white men find them an

important portion of camping equipment. The habit of tea-drinking

throughout the settlements and townships of the Dominion requires a

kettle, and Joe doubted whether even the resourceful Beaver Jack could

supplement such an article, however many birch trees there might be,

and whatever his skill in fashioning the bark.

"Never cry till you're kicked," sang out Hank cheerfully, "and when

you're kicked jest kick back mighty hard, ef only to show as you're

still movin'. Ef they've took our kit, it's bad; ef they wipe us out

clean, it's wuss. Let's put on steam a bit."

Beaver Jack seemed to understand the demand at once, for he broke into

something resembling a jog trot, if there is such a thing when dealing

with snowshoes. In any case, his feet slid over the snow at increased

pace, and Joe found himself sweeping forward at a speed which set the

freezing air buzzing against his ears, and brought a bright flush of

colour to his face. It soon became evident, too, that the wily Redskin

had noted every feature of the ground as he led his friends from the

camp that morning; for suddenly, as the surface ceased to shelve and

became almost level, he changed his direction. Nor did he join the

wide track which presently crossed before him; he merely grunted and

pointed.

"Half-breeds come along there," he said. "Go different way ourselves."

Joe looked closely at the trace they were crossing. There were the

marks of the runners of two sleighs cutting through tracks evidently

left by the dog teams, and on either hand, and mixed up with the former

marks, were the impressions of many snowshoes.

"But--" he began, "if this is their line, and they followed us from the

camp, as seems more than likely, why not take the same line back? They

are sure to have come the quickest way."

"You bet; they jest followed our trace, and guess we came direct," said

Hank. "Only you can't see our marks, as they've trod all over 'em.

But you leave this here matter to Beaver Jack. He aer a cunnin' boy,

and 'way back at the end of his head he's got an idea that'll knock

fits out of them 'ere critters. I've half guessed at it already;

you'll see. Seems to me we shall almost fly the last half of the

distance."

"Eh?" Joe stared at the little hunter. He was quite willing to be

led, and had implicit faith in his companions, but he was one of those

inquisitive fellows who like to know the why and wherefore of

everything. "But--fly!" he exclaimed.

"Ay--fly!" grinned Hank; "jest go along quicker nor a sleigh could take

us. Ain't that it, Jack?"

Beaver Jack could enjoy a joke with anyone, only he enjoyed it in a

manner peculiarly his own, or, one might more correctly say, in a

manner characteristic of his people. His eyes were twinkling as he

faced about, while his hooked nose and upturned chin seemed to have

approached even nearer.

"It is well that the young men should know what is happening," he said.

"They look to their elders for instruction, and in asking thus Joe

shows that he is interested. It will also tell him the need there is

always to watch the country he passes through. Listen: the land beyond

falls very steeply. Leaving the camp, we passed to the right, so as to

gain a track which was easy. To climb is hard; to descend is a

different matter."

It was not all said in that fashion, for Beaver Jack's English was not

of an advanced order. But a man of intelligence could understand him

with ease, and, hearing what he had to say, Joe quickly realized what

was about to happen. Also he remembered that the ground did rise

immediately in front of their camp, and at such an angle that to climb

it would have been almost impossible; but to descend would be easy.

"Easy as fallin' off a house," grunted Hank. "Jest sit down on your

snowshoes and slide; sleighing won't be in it."

Speeding along now across a field of virgin snow through which an

occasional tree cropped, the party were not long in gaining a belt of

forest trees clinging to the hillside. Passing through these, they

again emerged on to a space which was open, and over which the white

winter mantle was spread, without so much as a footmark to mar its

beauty. But the field seemed to end abruptly on that edge farthest

from the summit of the hills, and striking out for the white line where

sky and snow seemed to merge, the trio soon found themselves on the

verge of a steep and smooth declivity. From it a splendid view was to

be obtained, for the rays from the declining sun lit up a gorgeous

landscape, swept with white from end to end, dotted here and there with

darker patches, showing long shadows where the hollows lay, while

patches of trees of larger and smaller extent cropped up everywhere.

There was their camp, too, nestling at the foot of a clump of pines,

while at its back was one huge expanse of white, unbroken, unmarked,

bearing not even a shadow.

"A lake, and a big 'un, too," observed Hank. "Ef we'd looked that way

this morning once we got on to the hill we might have seen it. But we

was in the trees most of the time, and I expect that folds in the

ground kept us elsewhere. Now fer a slide. Slip yer gun from yer

shoulder and use it as a guiding stick. Yer see, it's mighty steep

here, and though, ef you rolled from top to bottom, it wouldn't do no

great harm--for there's drifts that would catch you--still it's nicer

and better to go face forward. So put the butt in on one side and a

little behind, and guide and brake with it."

That was a glorious ride down the hill. It carried Joe back to days,

now so far off they seemed, when there had been a heavy fall of snow in

England, and he, with friends in the little town, had rigged up a

toboggan and had carried it to the hills. The speed then had been

great; it was terrific here. However, there was no time for pausing;

besides, the Redskin made nothing of it. This form of progress seemed

to him to be much the same as any other. Without a word, with hardly a

look at his comrades, he strode to the very edge, sat down on his

snowshoes, and, thrusting the butt of his gun into the snow, pushed

himself over the brink. He went whirling down before a mighty cloud of

snowflakes kicked up by his shoes, and left behind him a track which a

man standing in the valley below could have seen from a great distance.

Once he swerved, and looked as if he were about to turn over; but the

guiding gun held him straight, and in an extraordinary short space of

time he was waiting for them at the bottom.

"Wall," grinned Hank, "you or me? Ef there was a chance of them

critters coming along I'd say you."

"And I'd say you," laughed Joe. "I'd feel that I had to stay to

protect you."

"Gee! Ef that don't beat the hull band," gasped Hank. "Protect me,

you said! As ef I war a baby. Now, see here, lad; we'll make a race

of it. You're heavier nor me, and so will have an advantage. At the

same time, I'm that light I'll slide over the snow easier. We'll see

who makes the quickest job of it."

"Agreed!" cried Joe. "Ready?"

"Ready it aer."

"Then off!"

They thrust themselves over the edge and went whirling down, huge

clouds of snow spurting to either side of their snowshoes. Nor did Joe

find the task one of the easiest. He swerved, and with a dig of his

gun recovered his position. But the movement sent him twirling the

opposite way. He made a desperate effort, and wrenched his body round

again till he faced downhill; then, just as is the case with skis,

something seemed to go wrong with his snowshoes. They displayed an

unaccountable and all-powerful tendency to separate. No amount of

effort would draw them together. The result was speedy disaster. Joe

rose a little, struggling to regain equilibrium, but a curious thing

happened. The very raising of his body proved fatal; for suddenly the

shoes stuck fast, the toes entering the surface in spite of the steep

slope. Thus arrested, our hero pitched forward on to his head, doubled

up into a beautiful and most elegant circle, and went speeding down the

hill like a ball, this time at an infinitely quicker rate. His antics,

too, from that moment forward were more than funny, for he straightened

himself out, with arms and legs widespread.

"I'll have the breath knocked clean out of my body if I don't come to a

stop soon," he thought. "Ah! That does it; that's better!"

However, the relief was for the moment only. The pace lessened; he

began to think that presently he would find a resting-place from which

he might once more put himself in position for the remainder of the

descent. But alas! he was to be disappointed. Shooting into a deep

drift, he found himself buried beneath the snow, and expected to stay

there. But the force of his descent carried all before it. His body

broke through the mass of snow, and once more he was hurtling downward,

falling this way and that, sliding, rolling head first sometimes, and

at others the reverse. At last, however, he was able to arrest the

rapid and exciting movement.

"Gee!" he cried. "That was a doer! Where's my gun? And one shoe gone

also."

It happened that the lost articles had more or less kept him company.

The gun, in fact, lay within a few feet of him, while as he turned

there was the lost snowshoe descending in a dignified manner towards

him. He snatched at it, donned it in haste, and once more prepared for

the rest of the journey.

"Better luck, I hope," he said. "Ain't Hank grinning! The little

beggar made a clean run right to the bottom."

On this second occasion Joe was more fortunate. He sat his shoes like

a practised hand, and went hurtling down to within a few feet of his

waiting comrades.

"You've come at last," grinned Hank, as Joe picked himself up and rose

to an erect position. "Warn't it fair flyin'? Seemed to me as ef you

was spreading your wings because you wasn't quite satisfied. But you

ain't hurt, lad?"

"Not a bit; rather enjoyed it," sang out our hero.

"And ain't too much shook up? That sorter things kicks the breath

outer a body."

"As fit as ever," grinned Joe, "and ready to continue. Where's the

camp?"

"You're at the front door, as you might almost say," smiled the little

hunter. "There it aer."

There it was indeed, almost nestling at the foot of the hill, and in

any case within a few hundred yards. It took the little party but a

few minutes to reach it.

"Will they have taken all or not?" asked Hank somewhat anxiously, as

they came up to the place. "Ef so, it aer a bad lookout; ef not, why,

things is beginning to move in our favour."

A deep-toned exclamation came from the Redskin, while his hawk-like

face took on for one brief instant an appearance of sublime content.

"That's settled the matter," cried Hank. "You kin see as it aer all

right, fer Beaver Jack stood to lose the hull of his pelts and the

winter's work, which for him would be serious. He's seen that things

aer all right."

"No take the pelts and the sleigh as they easy able to come back when

they killed us," said Beaver Jack, his eyes twinkling.

"And so we'll take 'em," cried Hank. "But where? That do tease me

more'n a trifle. Jest about here we ain't no better off than we was

back up the hill, and men lyin' on the ridge above us could flick

bullets into our camp every time. I ain't bad at some sorter

conundrums, but here guess I've come to an end. Joe, boy, you are the

youngest and brightest; what do we do?"

"Pack up at once, put all our things on Beaver Jack's sleigh, and make

clear across the lake to that island," said our hero, promptly pointing

across the smooth expanse of snow to where, nestling in the centre

almost, was a prominence above which hung the heavily-weighted branches

of a group of evergreens. "That'll be a fine castle," he said. "We've

now grub with us, besides pots and pans; there'll be firewood yonder,

and with that we'll be able to make ourselves comfortable. I'm for

making for that island."

Hank gave a little exclamation, and struck himself violently on the

chest as if in punishment for not having thought of the same movement,

while the Redskin went to his sleigh, on which his store of pelts was

still bound, and taking up the tow rope began to move away from the

camp.

"It aer jest the very thing for us," observed Hank, with eagerness. "I

war a thickhead too never to have thought of it. But lend a hand, Joe,

and let's get the traps fixed and packed. Them critters ain't likely

to be long now in coming."

Very rapidly but carefully they packed all their goods on Beaver Jack's

sleigh, then, led by the Redskin, they stepped upon the snow-covered

surface of the lake. And as they pushed their way across it the shouts

of the enemy came to their ear, while presently they could be seen

descending the hillside.

"They've seed what we're up to, and guess as they can't reach us afore

we're at the island," said Hank. "So now they'll go back to collect

their sleighs and dog teams. That'll give us time to breathe. We'll

make our lean-to right off, and get a kettle of water boiling. A brew

of hot tea won't come amiss after all this business."

They found, in fact, that cups of boiling hot tea, sweetened with some

of the store of maple sugar which they had brought with them, was most

reviving. It sent the blood surging through their bodies, and, had

their courage been somewhat lacking, would even have restored that.

But Joe and his friends had a deal of fight left in them yet. They

hoped still to preserve their lives, and show these half-breeds who had

so outrageously attacked them that matters were not all in their favour.

"We aer boxed in, more or less," said Hank, surveying his surroundings;

"but they ain't much better off. The moment one o' the critters steps

off on to the lake, we sees him. There'll be a moon to-night, and for

a week almost, so night won't make much difference to it. Joe, I begin

to think as this here island aer going to be the saving of us."

Whether or no that was to be the case had yet to be seen. It was

fairly evident that the gallant little trio had a strenuous and

exciting time before them.

A Boy of the Dominion: A Tale of Canadian Immigration · 第 16 / 20 章