THE MIRAGE
That night Marian lay awake for a long time. She had a vague feeling that
they were approaching a crisis. Many agencies were at work. Some appeared
to favor the success of their enterprise, and some were working directly
against them. Scarberry, with his herd, was some hours ahead of them.
That was bad. If he succeeded in retaining this lead, the race was lost.
However, less than half the distance had been covered, the easiest half.
Many a peril awaited each herd. Who could tell when prowling wolves,
large bands of Indians, a caribou herd, an impassable river, might bring
either to a halt?
Marian could not answer all of the questions that troubled her. The
Indians? Would they be satisfied with her gift of food, or would they
continue to prey upon the herd? Would they go back to some large tribe
and lead them to the herd that they might drive them away, an easy
bounty?
She had dealt with Eskimos; knew about what to expect from them. “But
Indians,” she whispered to herself, “What are they like?”
As if in answer to her perplexity, there came to her mind the words of a
great and good man:
“Humanity is everywhere very much the same.”
This thought gave her comfort. She could not help but feel that the
Indian she had befriended would not betray her, but might even come to
her aid in some emergency.
“But those of the purple flame?” she whispered to herself. “That silent
watcher on the hill—what did he mean by sitting there with a rifle across
his knee? Is he and his companions our friends or our enemies?”
Here, indeed, was a problem. Until this day, she had felt that these
persons were to be distrusted and feared. However, there had been
something about that silent watcher that had given her a feeling of
safety in spite of her prejudice.
“It was as if he were set there as a watch to see that the Indian did us
no harm,” she told herself. “And yet, how could he?”
It was in the midst of this perplexity that she fell asleep.
Long before dawn the girls awoke to face a new day and a new, unknown
peril. The forest, stretching out black and somber against the white
foreground of snow, seemed a great menacing hand, reaching out to seize
their precious possession. They could not know what perils awaited them
in the forest.
With breakfast over, the tents struck, sled-deer harnessed and hitched to
the sled, and everything in readiness for the continuing of the race to
Fort Jarvis, the girls climbed the nearest hill, hoping that they might
catch some glimpse of the country beyond the forest.
Their hopes were vain. Far as eye could see, the forest stretched before
them. They could only guess the miles they must travel before coming
again to rolling hills and level tundra. They were traveling over a
region of the great Northland which had never really been explored. No
accurate maps showed where rivers ran or forests spread out over the
plains.
Standing there, looking at the great forest, Patsy quoted:
“‘This the forest primeval;
The murmuring pines and the hemlocks
Stand like Druids of old
With beards that rest on their bosom.’
“And, with two Eskimos for companions, we are to enter that forest. Only
wild people, and wilder caribou and wolves, have been there before us.
Oh, Marian! We are explorers! We really, truly are! Isn’t it gran-n-d!”
Marian did not answer. There was a puzzled look on her face as she stared
away toward the north. Out of the very clouds faint images appeared to be
marching. Yes, yes, now they became clearer. Reindeer—a whole herd of
them. What could it mean? Was this a vision? Was she “seeing things,” or
was it possible that much higher hills lay over there and that the
reindeer were crossing them?
“Look,” she said to her cousin, pointing away to the clouds.
Together, with bated breaths, they watched the panorama that moved before
them. Now they saw the herders and their dogs, saw them run this way and
that; saw the herd change its course, saw the herders again take up the
steady march.
“Why,” exclaimed Patsy, “Seems as if you could hear the crack-crack of
reindeer hoofs and the bark of the dogs!”
“They must be miles away. It’s the Scarberry herd,” said Marian.
“Look,” whispered Patsy, “the deer are stopping.”
It was true. Having come to an abrupt halt, as if facing an
insurmountable barrier, the leaders compelled those that followed to pack
in a solid mass behind them or to spread out to right or left. In an
incredibly short time they stood out in a straight line, facing east.
“It—it must be a river, a river that is still open, that cannot be
crossed,” said Marian in tones of tense excitement.
“And that means!” exclaimed Patsy.
“That our rival has been stopped. Nature has brought them to a halt. We
may win yet. Let’s hurry. We may find a crossing-place in the forest.”
“But look, look over there to the left!” cried Patsy.
“What? Where?”
“Why, they’re gone!” exclaimed Patsy. “There were three men. Indians,
they looked like. They seemed to be watching the Scarberry herd from a
hilltop some distance away.”
“But look!” cried Marian. “It’s gone!”
To their great astonishment, the herd had vanished. As it had appeared to
march out of the clouds, so it seemed now to have receded again into
them.
“Were we dreaming?” Patsy asked in an awed whisper.
“No,” said Marian thoughtfully, “It was a mirage, a mirage of the great
white wilderness. We have them here just as they do on the desert. By the
aid of this mirage, nature has shown us a great secret; that we still
have a splendid chance to win the race. Let’s get down to camp and be
away.”
“But the three Indians?” questioned Patsy. “What were they about to do?”
“Who knows?” said Marian. “We have little to do with the Scarberry herd.
Our task is that of getting to Fort Jarvis.”
Two hours were consumed in reaching the edge of the forest. After that,
for hours they passed through the wonder world of a northern forest in
winter. Deep and still, the snow lay like a great white blanket. Black as
ebonite against this whiteness stood the fir and spruce trees. There was
something strangely solemn about the place. The crack of reindeer’s
hoofs, the bark of dogs, all seemed strangely out of place here. It was
as though they stood on holy ground.
“It’s like a church,” Patsy said in an awed voice.
“God’s great cathedral,” answered Marian.
Fortunately the trees were not too close together. There was room for the
deer to pass between them. So, as before, the herd moved forward in a
fairly compact mass.
“Going to be easy,” was Patsy’s comment after three hours had passed.
“I don’t know,” Marian shook her head in doubt, “I hope so, but you know
an Alaskan who is used to barren hills and tundra, dreads a forest. I
belong to the tundra, so I dread it, too.”
In spite of her fears, just at nightfall Marian found herself passing
from beneath the last spruce tree and gazing away at rolling hills
beyond.
She was just offering up a little prayer of thanksgiving, when some
movement of the forward herd leaders attracted her attention.
“They’re stopping,” she said. “I wonder why?”
Instantly the vision of the morning flashed through her mind.
“The river!” she exclaimed in alarm. “If—if we can’t cross it, we’ll have
to camp at the edge of the forest. And that is bad, very bad. Animals
that are cowards, and slink away by day, become daring beasts of prey at
night.”
A hurried race forward confirmed her worst suspicions; there, at her feet
was a river, flanked on one side by willows and on the other by a steep
bank. It was not a broad stream—she could throw a stone across it—but it
did flow swiftly. Its powerful current had thus far defied the winter’s
fiercest blasts. It was full to the brim with milky water and crowding
cakes of ice. No creature could brave that torrent, and live.
“Blocked!” she cried. “And just when I was hoping for so much!”
Sinking down upon the snow, she gave herself over for a moment to
hopeless despair. The next moment she was on her feet. With arms
outstretched toward the stars as if in appeal for aid, she spoke through
tight clenched teeth:
“We must! We will! We will win!”
As if in mockery of her high resolves, at that moment there came to her
ears the long-drawn howl of a timber wolf.
The call of the wolf was answered by another, and yet another. At the
moment they seemed some distance away, but Marian trembled at the sound.
“A wolf travels fast,” she told herself as she turned to hurry back to
Patsy and her faithful Eskimo.
“Listen!” she exclaimed, as she came near to her companions. “Sounds like
ten or twelve of them howling at once. Terogloona, do wolves travel in
packs?”
“Mebby not,” the Eskimo shrugged his shoulders, “but often they are many.
Then they call to one another. They come all to one place. Then there’s
trouble. There will be trouble to-night, and we have no rifle. We—”
He broke off abruptly to lean forward in a listening attitude. “That is
strange,” he murmured, “They have found some prey back there where they
are, perhaps a caribou.”
As they stood at strained attention, it became evident to all that the
creature being pursued was coming down the wind toward them. The yap-yap
of the wolves, now in full pursuit, grew momentarily louder. At the
beginning they had seemed two miles away. Now they seemed but one mile; a
half mile. The girls fairly held their breaths as they watched and
waited.
And now it seemed that the wolves must be all but upon them. Then, with a
sudden cry, Marian saw the great spreading antlers of old Omnap-puk, the
king of reindeer and caribou, rise above the ridge.
“He’s not alone. There are others,” Patsy breathed.
“Reindeer!” Marian murmured in astonishment.
It was true. One by one at first, then by fives and tens, a drove of
deer, fifty or sixty in number, appeared on the crest of the hill and
came plunging down toward Marian’s herd.
The old Monarch had never before joined their herd, but this time,
without a second’s hesitation, he plunged straight on until he came to
the edge of the herd. Then, with a peculiar whistled challenge, he
wheeled about and with antlers lowered for battle, pawed defiance at the
on-rushing band of wolves.
Then a strange and interesting drama began to be enacted. There was a
shifting and turning of deer. Front ranks were quickly formed. When the
wolves, with lolling tongues and dripping jaws reached the spot, they
found themselves facing a solid row of bayonet-like antlers.
Quick as they were to understand the situation, and to rush away in a
circle to execute a rear attack, the deer, under the monarch’s
leadership, were quicker. Other lines were formed until a complete circle
of antlers confronted the beasts of prey. The weaker and younger deer
were in the center.
Then it was that the girls discovered for the first time that they, too,
were in the center; that they were surrounded by the restless, snorting,
pawing herd of deer. In their interest at watching the progress of
events, they had not been aware of the fact that the deer, in swinging
about, had encircled them.
That they were in peril, they knew all too well. They read this in the
look of concern on Terogloona’s face.
“Circle hold, all right,” he said soberly. “Not hold, bad! Deer afraid.
Go mad. Want’a trample down all; want’a get away fast. Mebby knock down
my master’s daughter, her friend, Terogloona, Attatak; knock down all;
mebby trampled. Mebby die. Mebby wolf kill.”
There was apparently nothing to do but wait. To the wolf pack new numbers
appeared to be added from time to time. The sound of their yap-yapping
came incessantly. The circle swayed now to this side and now to that as
some frightened deer appeared ready to break away. It was with the utmost
difficulty that the girls prevented themselves from being knocked down
and trampled under the sharp hoofs of the surging deer.
“What will it be like if the circle breaks and they really stampede?”
groaned Patsy. For the first time in her Arctic experience she was truly
frightened.
“I don’t know,” answered Marian. “We can only trust. I wish we were out
of this. I wish—”
A sharp exclamation escaped Marian’s lips. Over to the left a deer had
gone down. The wolves appeared to have cut the tendons to his forelegs.
There was terrible confusion. It seemed that the day was lost, that the
stampede was at hand.
“Keep close to me,” Marian whispered bravely. “Some way we will pull
through.”
Patsy gripped her arm for the final struggle. Then, to her astonishment,
she heard the sound of a shot, then another, and yet another.
“Someone to our rescue,” cried Marian. “Who can it be?”