Across the Snows for Safety
"Hist! Hist! Here, good dog!" Hank called gently to the huge brute
slinking towards himself and Joe, as they lay outside the winter
bivouacs of Hurley and his men, and held forward a tempting morsel of
flesh. Even our hero could scent the pleasing aroma from the morsel;
for the little hunter had so contrived with his covering of snow that
there was considerable warmth in it yet, while the frosty air seemed to
accentuate the aroma. But it was a toss up as to whether the beast
would suddenly give tongue or would slink still nearer and accept the
proffered dainty.
"Good dog!" called Hank again. "Here's summat for yer."
Perhaps his soothing voice had something to do with the matter. It may
have been even that the brute realized, as dumb brutes do, that he was
face to face with one well acquainted with his brethren. Suffice it to
say that his bristles subsided and he sidled up, wagging his tail, his
nose snuffing at the morsel. Hank patted him at once.
"Here's more o' that," he said. "Lie down! Now, where aer the others?
It aer more'n likely that they've gone in with the men, and ef that's
the case it'll be a job to get 'em out, to say nothing of puttin' the
harness on 'em. See here, lad; I'll stay with this brute, so's to
quiet the others ef they come out. You creep in a bit closer and scout
around; I ain't yet quite sure how things aer. Take a piece of the
meat with you, and ef a dog runs out, jest pitch it towards him."
It may be imagined that Joe needed no further orders. He was on hands
and knees at once, and began to creep towards the lean-to. In a little
while he was within a dozen feet, and, wriggling his way into a
position of advantage, he was soon able to look right in, the firelight
helping him greatly. A jumbled heap of bodies, legs, and arms met his
eyes, with the sleeping forms of dogs inextricably mixed up with them.
He saw, in fact, a typical residence of the half-breed. These men, of
a degenerate class themselves, and careless of everything so long as
their own comfort was assured, had turned into their lean-to without
removing so much as a garment, which is not to be wondered at,
considering the cold, and, throwing themselves down higgledy-piggledy,
had called to the dogs, who had promptly accepted the invitation, and,
thrusting their way into any odd corner and the most comfortable nooks,
had settled themselves down to sleep till the call of a new day aroused
them. But there was something more which attracted Joe's attention.
There seemed to be so few dogs, perhaps half a dozen in all, while each
of the sleigh teams mustered nine or ten.
"Couldn't swear to the number," he told himself, "but there are not two
teams here, of that I am certain. Where, then, are the others?"
Looking to right and to left gave him no help. It was clear that he
must search for them elsewhere, so promptly he crept away in the
direction of the second lean-to. It happened, too, that his path took
him to the end of this farthest removed from the spot where the fire
was blazing. Indeed, it was only native caution which caused him to
make for that end; for had he crawled towards the fire, its bright
flames would have betrayed his presence instantly to anyone happening
to look out. Hurley, he knew, was a suspicious, restless individual,
so that the merest whimper from one of the dogs, even a rustling of the
snow, might bring him into the open.
"I'll give him no chance to spoil our plans," said Joe, kneeling up to
take a good look about him. "First thing is to take a squint into the
lean-to. There's a light somewhere inside, I fancy, so perhaps Hurley
is sitting up and making plans for the next attack. Hope he ain't,
though; I'd rather he were asleep, worn out by all that's happened."
Crawling along on hands and knees, it was a little time before he came
to the lean-to. A glance over his shoulder now told him that Hank had
come a trifle closer, and still had the dog beside him. Knowing,
therefore, that he had someone to give him a warning should the
half-breeds suddenly emerge, Joe very gently separated two strips of
birch bark which closed in a portion of this Canadian dwelling. Then
he applied his eye to the aperture, only to find that he was staring
right across to the far side of the lean-to, and that neither Hurley
nor anyone else was within his vision. There was a roll of flaming
bark within two feet, however, spluttering and smoking gently.
"No good here," he thought. "Must try the other side, and a trifle
lower down. Hallo--dogs! George--they're lying just outside this
shanty!"
Joe had risen to his feet now, though still stooping, and as he peered
over the far end of the flimsy erection he caught sight of quite a
number of dogs stretched within easy distance of the fire, huddled into
one close body, and all fast asleep. After all, there was nothing
remarkable in that, or of sufficient importance to cause his
exclamations, save, of course, their proximity to himself. For these
dogs, bred in the Arctic zone almost, and in any case upon its fringe,
can stand a degree of cold which would rapidly kill a human being.
Warmth they like, just as do most animals, but they can resist a
Canadian winter in remarkable manner, and are capable of sleeping in
the open. In any case, there they were, bundled together, sleeping
deeply, no doubt tired after a hard day with the sleigh.
"But they'll rouse any time," Joe told himself. "If there weren't snow
about to deaden my steps, they'd have kicked up a row already, unless,
of course, they take me for one of their masters."
Perhaps that was the reason of their tranquillity. Satisfied that they
had not detected him yet, Joe crept round to the far side of the
lean-to and, boring another aperture, peered in. And on this occasion
his efforts won a greater reward; for Hurley lay before him. His bulky
form was stretched full length on one of the sleighs, his face turned
away from the light; a rifle was propped beside him, while close
against the sleigh was that same wooden box which we have already
described. For the rest, there was nothing more to comment on.
Travellers during a Canadian winter are few and far between--we speak
here of the backwoods--and such as there are carry merely necessaries,
so that a humble lean-to contains little else but the traveller. There
was Hurley, in fact, alone, and with a weapon beside him. The box was
of no consequence, though, if only Joe could have guessed that only a
few hours ago that precious document was spread out on it, it is likely
enough that he would have shown more excitement. But there was no sign
of the envelope. Doubtless the sleeping Hurley had it in an inner
pocket. Joe bore in mind Hank's warning, and promptly used all his
wits to bring about an escape from the ruffian.
"Can't bother about the document or letter," he told himself. "We'll
tackle the man; but how, is the question? It's clear that he has
hauled the sleigh in to make a bed, leaving the dogs still attached to
it. That would be fine for us, if it weren't for the fact that Hurley
has fallen asleep on it. Then there's the gun; fancy I can reach that,
anyway."
He stretched the opening a little wider, stood well above it, and
reached in.
"Can't!" he told himself, with an exclamation of vexation. "Try again."
This time the roof of the lean-to bent inward as he pressed upon it,
then his fingers hit upon the muzzle of the weapon. Joe gripped it
firmly, drew gently on it, and slowly extracted the gun through the
opening.
"Makes things easier a whole heap. When he wakes he'll have to look
about for another weapon, unless he's got----" He pulled at the
opening and again stared in at the sleeper. "No sign of a shooter.
Hooray! Things begin to look a little better. I'll get hold of Hank
and have a chat with him."
Within three minutes the two had retired a little and were discussing
matters in voices raised hardly above a whisper. Hank kneeled on the
snow, one arm about the dog he had coaxed into friendship, and who
seemed to have taken a huge fancy to him. The little man listened
carefully to our hero's description, and made no comment for a few
moments; then, of a sudden, a gurgling laugh came from some point deep
down in his throat.
"Ef we don't win out I ain't Hank," he smiled. "Now, jest listen.
This aer the movement; Jimmy here--that's this dog, and I christened
him Jimmy 'cos that's the name of a beast I had once when huntin' in
the backwoods--Jimmy goes along up to his friends sleeping outside the
lean-to and wakes 'em. He lets 'em understand that things are right,
and that there's a new friend come to the camp. You needn't look as ef
you didn't believe it could be, young chap. You've got to remember
that there's a moon. Ef it were pitch dark it would be different, for
then the dogs couldn't see us. A beast barks at any sound on a dark
night, while with a moon, ef he kin see right off what's caused the
ruction, he don't always give tongue. Anyway, we try the plan. Ef it
fails, we'll have to make a rush at the brutes, put 'em into line, and
drive 'em. But here's the rest of the scheme. This is your part."
"Ah! What? I'm ready."
"In course you aer; couldn't I tell that from what you've done this
last five minutes?"
"Well," said Joe impatiently, "you look to the dogs. That's right, for
you know a heap about them. What do I do?"
"Settle Hurley."
"Eh? Kill him? I----"
"You don't need to be thin-skinned, young chap. This ain't a time fer
killing; I'll do that fast enough ef it comes to a tussle between us.
What you've got to do is to rouse him off the sleigh, and then smother
him so's he can't get clear of the lean-to till we've got aboard and
has set the dogs going. Jest sling that 'ere rifle into the bushes
here. Gently with it. Now you ain't bothered with extry weight. You
comes with me to the place agin and watches while I get in amongst the
dogs. Ef there's a noise, and Hurley rouses, bash the lean-to down on
top of his head, jump on it, send the sticks and the snow about him,
then leap on the sleigh and look out fer fireworks."
Joe grinned; he couldn't help doing so, in spite of the danger of the
situation. "If there's not a row?" he asked.
"Ef there's not a ruction with them dogs and the other men, and things
go nice and smooth and easy, I'll lift my hand when I'm ready. Then
you get a grip of that thar Hurley, bash him over the head ef you like
with your open hand, and, as he rises, bring the whole shanty down on
him--eh? You're there, ain't you? It aer a clear and straightforward
plan."
"Got it," answered Joe promptly, moistening his lips, and tingling with
excitement and anticipation. "Do we start now?"
"This very instant. But supposin' Hurley suddenly rouses as soon as we
get close, and afore you kin bring the shack down on him----"
"Leave that to me," answered Joe tersely. "I've had one innings with
the ruffian already."
There never were two who understood each other so well and so easily as
did Hank and our hero. Their discussion had taken them but a few bare
seconds, and now they were creeping back. Joe halted when close beside
the lean-to, while the little hunter sat down on his knees and
whispered to the dog Jimmy. The hound seemed to have gathered his
meaning too as rapidly as had Joe, for he went slinking forward and lay
down beside his comrades. As might have been expected, his coming
caused many of the beasts to open their eyes, though they did not offer
to move. But Hank was watching eagerly, and a second later a morsel of
flesh flew across, landing close to Jimmy. Others followed, and in an
incredibly short space of time the dogs were all aroused and standing.
"Jest watch fer the signal," whispered the hunter. "I'm agoin' to put
'em into their harness."
It was just at that moment that Joe heard a movement within the
lean-to, and promptly applied his eye to the opening he had made.
Hurley had turned over, and was now blinking at the spluttering torch,
while one arm was spread out over the box. Something seemed to have
alarmed him, for he sat up, giving the box a kick, which Hank heard;
then he got to his feet swiftly and, bending low, stepped toward the
opening, just outside which blazed the fire, and just beyond which Hank
was mustering the team of dogs. Hurley saw him; for the instant he
took him to be one of his own following, then he became suspicious.
"Who's that?" he called. "Hi! Someone is tampering with the dogs."
Joe did not venture to wait longer. He leaped on to the top of the
lean-to, the flimsy thing breaking down beneath his weight at once; he
trod upon the wretch beneath, sending him tumbling to the ground; then
he stood ready for the next movement. It came with startling
suddenness. Hank had found a whip close to the dogs, and sent it
cracking over the team. The brutes sprang forward the next instant,
and in spite of the fact that Hurley had tumbled across the sleigh,
they brought it out from beneath the smashed lean-to with a jerk which
tossed snow and sticks aside, and sent the rascally leader of this band
of cut-throats rolling backward from the end. Hank seemed to fly to
his position at the fore end. Joe fell across the sleigh as it flashed
past him, scrambled aboard, and found himself gripping the sides
closely; for a sleigh is no easy thing to ride when a strong team pulls
it at fast pace across ground which is broken. It jolts and sways
abominably, while often enough it will glissade, just like a petrol car
rounding a sharp and greasy corner.
"Hold tight," shouted Hank, "and get yer shootin' iron ready for 'em!
When we comes up to Beaver Jack, I'll hand the reins over to him.
You'll take the centre place, while I'll nip in at the back, so as to
be ready to shoot that 'ere Hurley."
Not a word passed between the two from that moment until they reached
the spot where Beaver Jack was waiting for them. Swinging along at a
glorious pace, and swerving and rolling, sometimes dangerously, they
finally dashed up to the heap of snow behind which the Redskin had
taken shelter.
"Now, Jack, you take them dogs," said Hank quickly. "Give me a hold of
the rope tied on to your sleigh. There! It's fast to this; you kin
move off when you're ready."
"But----"
"What?" asked the hunter somewhat curtly, interrupting Joe.
"Why let the dogs haul two sleighs? Cut Beaver Jack's pelts adrift and
tie 'em here. We can do it as we go. Our traps can be served in the
same way. It isn't the weight that'll tell so much as the amount of
ground our runners cover. A sleigh towing behind will hold the dogs
more than the load on it will do when added to this sleigh."
"Shucks! You aer got the best head of the three of us," cried Hank.
"You git in at them dogs, Beaver Jack. Me and Joe'll fix the kit while
we're moving."
Away went the lash of the whip cracking over the leaders. Beaver Jack
handled the team as a man does who has had great practice. Anyone
could have said that from merely observing his manner of wielding the
whip, for the short-handled, long-lashed dog whip employed in the north
of Canada is apt to be more dangerous to the amateur wielder than to
the dogs. It requires an amount of practice to control it; and as it
twirled and cracked, and leaped backwards and forwards, now over the
dogs, and then above the heads of Hank and Joe, there was proof
positive of Beaver Jack's previous acquaintance with it. Meanwhile,
Hank had drawn up the smaller sleigh alongside, and he and Joe rapidly
transferred its load to the large one on which they themselves sat,
lashing every article into position.
At the enemy's camp there was now huge commotion. At first the
confusion had been so great that no one could guess what had happened.
Even Hurley himself had little more than an inkling, and it took him a
few seconds to pick himself up and free himself of the snow and debris
of the lean-to with which he had been covered. Then shouts of rage and
fierce orders burst from his lips; in his anger he dashed hither and
thither, shouting at his men, and even striking those who seemed to be
dawdling.
"Put the other team into the sleigh, quick!" he commanded. "One of you
help here to find my rifle. Those men have made a sneaking night
attack, and will get clear off if we don't move quick. Here, look for
my rifle, I say. How in thunder did it get outside the lean-to?"
There were quite a number of little matters which he was likely to find
difficult of explanation. But the gun was found eventually where Joe
had placed it, while the second team of dogs were got into their
harness. Then Hurley pressed two of the boldest of his followers into
this special service, and putting them aboard the remaining sleigh,
leaped there himself, and ordered the driver to set off in pursuit of
our hero and his friends.
Beaver Jack never hesitated as to the course he ought to pursue once
his fingers closed on the reins Hank tossed him.
"Clear back for the settlements," the little hunter had said, and the
Redskin obeyed him to the letter. He steered his team over a portion
of the lake, set them at the bank where it shelved very gradually to
the ice, and, gaining a hollow, aimed directly for a huge patch of
forest distinguishable with the aid of the moon's rays in the far
distance.
"He war born cute, he war," grunted Hank, some minutes later, when all
the loads were secured, and he and Joe had time and opportunity to look
about them. "Beaver Jack never stirs a foot, but he watches everything
about him, and I reckon that he knows nigh every foot of the country;
knows it, too, whether it's fine weather or ef there's snow about and
landmarks is wiped out altogether. He aer steering downhill, knowing
as the big lake back behind drains along the valley to another, and
that again to a third. It means quick travelling all the way, and ef
we're to shake off them critters it'll be before we reaches the third
lake. Ah! Guess that's Hurley. It's a pity it's stopped snowing."
It was necessary to cling to the sleigh tightly, for the going was fast
and furious. There was no time to watch for obstacles ahead, while the
snow covered the land so completely that deep brooks crossing their
line of flight were not seen till they were on to them, and then there
was a mighty shaking. The dogs, spurred on by the cracking whip,
leaped across the hollow. The sleigh bumped across with a great
jolting which tossed those aboard it to either side; but still they
clung tight, while the little hunter, seeing that a sleigh was
following, nimbly turned about, spread himself face downward on the top
of the sleigh, and placed his rifle before him.
"You jest take and sit on my legs, Joe," he called; "then ef there's a
bad jolt I'll still be here. It won't make no difference to my
shootin', and it's likely to save delay. Ef I was to roll over you'd
have to stop, and that'd be serious."
Joe promptly did as he was asked, tucking the legs of the little hunter
beneath him, and placing a blanket across them before he sat down. He
could then afford to turn his own head and watch the enemy. Away
behind them, tearing along at reckless speed, and at such a rate that a
cloud of white was thrown up in front of each runner for all the world
as if the sleigh were a ship at sea, Hurley and his comrades came
chasing after the trio they had fondly hoped to kill. A figure
crouched just behind the dogs, and the frosty air brought the sound of
his shouts and the crack of the dog whip he wielded. A second figure
was bundled up behind him, the face of the man on the shoulder of the
driver, while a pair of staring eyes peered at the sleigh ahead.
Hurley sat right aft, his bulky form overlapping the sides of the
sleigh, his head and shoulders well above his comrades. The moon,
playing upon the scene, showed a rod projecting upward from a point
just in front of the murderer, and at once Joe knew it was a rifle. He
saw the ruffian lean forward and shout at his men, and then watched as
he rose still higher--evidently he was half-kneeling and
half-sitting--his weapon was lifted into a horizontal position and went
to his shoulder. It was clear, in fact, that Hurley was about to fire.
"Best get down flat, every one of us," cried Hank, in warning tones.
"Beaver Jack, you lie flat same as me, facing forward. You'll still be
able to steer, and kin use the whip ef it's wanted. Then Joe kin
stretch hisself out on top of the two of us. It'll be a cramping
business, but it aer better'n bein' shot."
Such gymnastic efforts upon a sleigh rocking from side to side was no
easy matter. But when there is a man within reasonable distance whose
rifle is presented, and any moment may bring a bullet, the most
difficult of evolutions are carried out with wonderful rapidity. In
this case, Beaver Jack swivelled himself round with a dexterity there
was no denying. Then Joe turned entirely, for he wished to have his
eyes behind him all the while and watch Hurley. A second or so later
he was also lying flat, his weight helping to hold the Redskin to the
sleigh, while he gripped Hank now by the ankles. But he was hardly in
position when a puff of smoke burst from the rifle held by the burly
figure at the back of the pursuing sleigh, there was a dull flash, then
a bullet screamed past the heads of Hank and his friends. The reply to
this was sent without delay by the little hunter.
"Missed!" he grunted. "Shootin' at a moving object ain't never too
easy with a rifle, but when the consarn you're fixed on is movin'
itself as well, why, a hit aer often a chance. Guess Hurley ha' got
his eye in."
It was a cold-blooded observation, hardly likely to encourage either.
But the grin on Hank's face showed that he himself was not greatly
concerned by the close approach of a second bullet which Hurley had
fired. For Joe, one can only say that he watched the duel fascinated,
fear for his own person lost in his interest. Once again he saw
Hurley's rifle lifted, saw the smoke belch from the muzzle, and then
heard--almost felt, one might say, without exaggeration--the passage of
the bullet.
Hank chuckled. "This here lyin'-down position bothers him fine," he
cried. "He aer got to drop his muzzle a whole heap before he hits us.
But I'm not the one to give chances; I'm going to pick off that Hurley."
Up went his own rifle, for Hank leaned on one elbow. He took a long
and careful aim and then pulled his trigger; but the result was not
what he had anticipated. As he himself had said, shooting was
extremely difficult under such circumstances, for the sleigh swayed and
jolted horribly. But the bullet missed the ruffian at whom it was
aimed only because there was another man in front of him. Of a sudden
the driver of the pursuing sleigh dropped his whip and doubled up, his
chin on his chest. Then he swayed a little, and, as if with a mighty
effort, gathered all his strength and threw himself backward, pulling
on the reins and bringing his team to a standstill. But it was his
last action. He toppled over to the left and fell into the snow.
"Wrong man; sorry," Hank jerked out grimly. "Hurley'll have it next
time. I'll wait a bit to get him closer."
The chase after that settled down a little, Hank holding his fire,
while Hurley himself copied the example of the little hunter and spread
himself out flat on his sleigh, his new driver also. But this was
apparent, with a lighter load the enemy were getting nearer.
"Ef that's the case, we'll make a stop precious soon," said Hank.
"What say, Joe?"
"I'm with you. We're three now to their two, and if we could face
eight of them some little while ago, surely we could----"
His argument came to an abrupt ending at that moment, for a wide ditch
with vertical banks carved out by nature crossed their path, and the
snow hid it from view. It was more than likely that the snow had
formed a species of bridge over this deep hollow; but, in any case, it
broke down as the last of the team of dogs crossed, causing the front
end of the sleigh to dip suddenly. The runners cannoned against the
iron-hard banks, and in a twinkling sleigh and men went flying.
"Surely we could face those two," gasped Joe, as if continuing the
sentence where circumstances had caused it to be so abruptly broken,
and at the same time picking himself up from the bank of snow into
which he had been thrown. "Here's fine cover. This ditch will hide us
completely."
He threw himself down into the deep hollow at once, and found that he
had quite a high bank before him, over which he had to lift his head to
see the enemy. Hurley marked the occasion by firing at him, and his
bullet swished past within an inch, causing Joe to duck suddenly. As
for Hank, the sudden upset seemed to have caused him vast amusement,
and certainly he wasn't in the smallest degree hurt, though, being at
the rear of the sleigh, he had been thrown over the heads of his
comrades and had come down sprawling amongst the dogs. He picked up
himself and his weapon instantly and crept to Joe's side, still
grinning widely, while Beaver Jack, undisturbed by the upset, his
gravity of demeanour and his native dignity not in the least degree
ruffled, coolly turned the sleigh the right way up, dragged it
backward, and called hoarsely to the dogs to lie down.
"We war jest meant to stop and have it out with them critters," said
Hank, when he had shaken the snow out of his eyes and mouth. "Gee!
that war a tumble. Lucky fer us there's soft snow. Ef it had been on
bare ice, there's some of us would have had cracked heads. Ha! Hurley
ha' thought better of coming along towards us. Guess this business is
gettin' a little more serious than he wanted. Yer see, he had jest
three at fust, three as didn't know he was following. Now he's got the
same three, and only one to help him agin them. You sit low, lad;
bullets has a way of striking jest when they ain't expected."
His own head went down of a sudden, while a bullet buzzed above them.
Evidently it must have gone extremely near to the Redskin, who was then
crawling towards them, for Beaver Jack's impassive face broke into a
smile. His sensitive lips actually curled, those deep-set, penetrating
eyes twinkled, while his curious chin went up and seemed almost to
embrace the tip of the hooked nose.
"None the wuss if you ain't hit, mate," laughed Hank. "Joe, how do yer
like bullets flyin' close beside you?"
To look at our hero it was an experience which he enjoyed, for he was
smiling. But it was not because of the bullets. He was smiling at the
sudden change in their fortunes, at the complete success of the special
efforts which he and Hank had made, and at the thought that, instead of
being chased by Hurley now, they might well turn the tables on him.
"We've a duty to do," he said so sharply, that the little hunter swung
round upon him.
"Eh? Duty?" he asked.
"Yes; there's a murderer, a criminal wanted by the law. Our duty is to
take him, so that he can do no more mischief."
"In course," came the ready answer, "that's what we're going to do.
See here, Joe, I don't return to the settlements till we've got our man
or rubbed him out entirely. It's the same thing to me whichever
happens; only stop his game we will."
"Right! I'm with you," cried Joe.
"Then jest look spry and don't get standin' in the way of his rifle,"
grunted Hank, as he peered cautiously at the enemy.