awakened him. For there beyond the glowing embers, where all was made
indistinct and strange, the dog was hard at work tearing a way out of
the hut. The wood snapped and grated as it was torn away; then there
was silence, and he was half disposed as he lay there helpless to think
it was all a dream.
But as this fancy came the noise began once more, and at last he caught
sight of the great dog, strong and sturdy now, crawling through a hole
it had made into the hut--what for he could not make out in his feverish
state. Why should it have done this to get at him when already there?
He knew it was all wrong, and that his brain was touched; but one thing
was plain reality: There was the great beast, magnified by the light of
the fire, creeping forward while he lay paralysed and unable to stir.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
DAL'S WELCOME BACK.
And yet it was strange, for just then the embers fell together, a soft,
lambent, bluish flame flickered up, making the interior of the hut
light, and he saw that the dog still lay in its old place, fast asleep.
What was it then--bear, wolf--which had torn a way through or half under
the wall of the place?
A bear, for it suddenly raised itself up on its hind-legs, and as he lay
stupefied with horror, Abel could make out its shaggy hide.
Still, he could not move to reach for the rifle which stood ready loaded
in the corner close by, but lay half paralysed in the strange dazed
state into which he had fallen, till the object which reared up, looking
huge, moved a little, and seemed listening.
Just then there was a bright gleam.
Eyes--teeth? Impossible, for it was low down, and Abel shook off his
lethargy and uttered a low, hoarse cry, as he made an effort to spring
up and reach a weapon.
But he was tight in the skin-lined sleeping-bag, and this fettered him
so that he fell back, and the next moment his nocturnal visitant sprang
forward, coming down heavily upon him, at the same moment making a
deadly blow at him.
The strange feeling of helplessness was gone. Something to call forth
the young man's flagging energies had been needed, and it had come. He
had lain down as one who had given up all hope, who had lost all that
bound him to life; but that was but the dream of weakness, the
stagnation of his nature, brought on by suffering, loneliness, and
despair.
Face to face now with this danger, confronted by a cowardly ruffian,
Nature made her call, and it was answered. The strong desire for life
returned, and with another hoarse cry he flung himself aside, and thus
avoided the blow aimed at him.
The next moment he had thrown himself upon his assailant. In an instant
his hands were upon his throat. And now a terrible struggle ensued, in
which a strange sense of strength came back to Abel; and he kept his
hold, as, failing to extricate himself, his assailant retaliated by
seizing him in the same way, and kept on raising and beating the
fettered man's head against the floor.
For in their struggle they had writhed and twisted till they were
approaching the fire; and as they strove on in their fight for the
mastery, Abel was conscious of hearing a loud yelp. Then his breath
grew shorter, there was a horrible sensation of the blood rushing to his
eyes, as he gasped for breath--a terrible swimming of the brain--lights
bright as flashes of lightning danced before his eyes, and then with his
senses reeling he was conscious of a tremendous weight, and then all was
black--all was silent as the grave.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Two days late," said Dallas, as he paused for a few moments to rest and
gain his breath, before shooting into collar again, when the trace
tightened, the sledge creaked and ground over the blocks of ice, and
glided over the obstruction which had checked him for the moment, and
the runners of the heavily loaded frame rushed down the slope, nearly
knocking him off his feet. The young man growled savagely, for the blow
was a hard one.
"If you could only keep on like that I'd give you an open course," he
said; "but you will not. Never mind; every foot's a foot gained.
Wonder how old Abel is getting on?"
He shot into the collar once more, the trace tightened, and he went on
for another hundred yards over the ice and snow.
The young man's collar was a band of leather, his trace a rope, but no
horse ever worked harder or perspired more freely than he, who was
self-harnessed to the loaded sledge.
"I don't mind," he had said over and over again. "I'd have brought
twice as much if I could have moved it. As it is, there's enough to pay
off one's debts and to keep up, with economy, till the thaw comes; and
now we are not going to be so pressed I daresay I shall manage to shoot
a moose."
That journey back from the settlement had been a terrible one, for he
had loaded himself far more heavily than was wise, and this had
necessitated his sleeping two nights in the snow instead of one. But
snow can be warm as well as cold, and he found that a deep furrow with
the bright crystals well banked up to keep off the wind, blankets, and a
sleeping-bag, made no bad lair for a tired man who was not hungry. He
took care of that, for, as he said to himself, "If it is only a donkey
who draws he must be well fed."
With his sledge at his head, tilted on one side to make a sort of
canopy, and a couple of blankets stretched over, tent fashion, upon some
stout sticks close down to his face, the air was soon warmed by his
breath, and thanks to the skin-lined bag he slept soundly each night,
and by means of a little pot and a spirit-lamp contrived to obtain a cup
of hot tea before starting on his journey in the morning. But it was
the lamp of life, heated by the brave spirit within him, that helped him
on with his load, so that after being disappointed in not covering the
last eight miles over-night, he dragged the sledge up towards their hut
just at dawn of the day which succeeded the attack made upon his
companion.
By dawn must be understood about ten o'clock, and as he drew near,
Dallas could see a fire blazing here, and another there, at different
shafts; but there was no sign of glow or smoke from the fire in their
own hut; and in the joy that was within him at the successful
termination of his expedition, Dallas laughed.
"The lazy beggar!" he said. "Not stirring yet, and no fire. Why, I
must have been tugging at this precious load over four hours. He ought
to have been up and had a good fire, and the billy boiling. He's taking
it out in sleep and no mistake. Wonder whether the dog's dead? Poor
brute! I don't suppose he can have held out till now."
As he drew near he gave vent to a signal whistle familiar to his cousin.
But there was no reply, and he tugged away till he was nearer, and then
gave vent to a cheery "Ahoy!"
There was still no response, and he hailed again, without result.
"Well, he is sleeping," said Dallas, and he hailed again as he dragged
away at the load. "At last!" he cried, as he reached the door and cast
off the leathern loop from across his breast. "Here, Bel, ahoy! ahoy!
ahoy! Hot rolls and _coffee_! Breakfast, bacon, and tinned tongue!
Banquets and tuck out! Wake up, you lazy beggar! you dog! you--"
He was going to say "bear," but a horrible chill of dread attacked him,
and he turned faint and staggered back, nearly falling over his loaded
sledge.
"Bah! coward! fool!" he cried angrily, and he looked sharply round, to
see shaft fires in the distance; but there was no hut within half a
mile. "What nonsense!" he muttered. "There can't be anything wrong.
Got short of food, and gone to one of the neighbours."
Nerving himself, he tried to open the door.
But it was fast, and, as he could see from a means contrived by
themselves for fastening the door from outside when they went away
hunting or shooting, it had not been secured by one who had left the
place.
In an instant, realising this, he grew frantic, and without stopping to
think more, he ran round to the side by the shaft, caught up a piece of
fir-trunk some six or seven feet long, and ran back, poised it for a few
moments over his head, and then dashed it, battering-ram fashion, with
all his might against the rough fir-wood door, just where the bar went
across, loosening it so that he was able to insert one end of the piece
of timber, using it now as a lever; and with one wrench he forced the
door right open.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
TREGELLY'S IDEA OF A GOLD TRAP.
Dropping the piece of wood, he dashed into the dark hut, to find that
the rush of wind from the suddenly opened door had started the embers in
the middle of the floor flickering in a dim lambent flame, just enough
to show him that the barrel table had been knocked over, the boxes used
for seats driven here and there, the bed occupied by his cousin dragged
away, the boards lifted, and the earth underneath it torn up, while Abel
was lying face downward close up to the remains of their store of wood.
It was all in one comprehensive glance that he had seen this, and it
seemed still to be passing panorama-like across the retina of his eyes,
when the faint flame died out and he dropped upon his knees beside the
prostrate man.
"Oh, Bel, lad," he groaned; "what have I done? I oughtn't to have left
you. Bel, old man, speak to me. God help me! He can't be dead!"
His hands were at his cousin's breast to tear open the clothes, and feel
if the heart was beating, but for the moment he shrank back in horror,
half paralysed with the dread of learning the truth.
It was but momentary, and then he mastered the coward feeling, uttering
a gasp of relief, for there was a faint throbbing against the hand he
thrust into the poor fellow's breast.
"Alive! I am in time," he muttered, and he continued his examination in
the dark, expecting to feel blood or some trace of a wound.
But, as far as he could make out, there was nothing of the kind, though
he felt that his cousin must have been attacked; so, after laying the
sufferer in a more comfortable position, he felt for the matches on the
rough shelf, struck one, saw that the lamp stood there unused, and the
next minute he had a light and went down upon one knee to continue his
examination.
At the first glance he saw that Bel's throat was discoloured, and there
were ample signs of his having been engaged in some terrible struggle,
but that was all. No, not all; the poor fellow was like ice, and quite
insensible.
Dallas's brain was in a whirl, but he was able to act sensibly under the
circumstances. He caught up rugs and blankets, and covered the sufferer
warmly. Then, going to the open door, he dragged in the sledge, and
closed and secured the entrance after a fashion.
His next effort was to get a good fire blazing to alter the temperature
of the hut; and when this was done he went to the spirit-flask kept on
the shelf for emergencies, and trickled a few drops between the poor
fellow's lips.
As he worked at this he tried hard to puzzle out what had happened.
His first thoughts had been in the direction of attack and robbery. But
there was the fastened door. It was not likely that Abel, after being
half strangled and hurled down, could have fastened up the door again
from the inside; he would sooner have left it open in the hope of one of
their neighbours passing by and rendering help. And yet there was the
bed dragged away, the board removed, and the earth torn up.
He crossed to the place.
There was no doubt about it; the object of the attack must have been
robbery, for the bag of gold was gone.
He held his hand to his brow and stared about wildly.
Ah! A fresh thought. The dog! Hungry! Mad! It must have attacked
and seized Abel by the throat. That would account for its lacerated
state and the terrible struggle.
There was evidence, too, just across the hut--a hole had been half dug,
half torn through the side, just big enough for such a dog to get
through, and it had, after nearly killing him who had saved the brute's
life, torn a way out, partly beneath the side.
"Oh, Bel, lad, if you could only speak!" groaned Dallas, as he took up
the lamp, felt how cold the poor fellow was, and, setting the lamp down
again, stooped to pick up a skin rug tossed into the corner by the head
of the bed.
But as he drew it towards him something dropped on the ground. Stooping
down to see what it was, he discovered that it was a sharp, thick
bowie-knife.
"It is robbery. He has been attacked," cried Dallas; and once more he
devoted himself to trying to restore the sufferer--chafing his cold
limbs, bathing his temples with spirits, drawing him nearer the fire,
and at last waiting in despair for the result, while feeling perfectly
unable to fit the pieces of the puzzle so as to get a solution
satisfactory in all points.
"Poor old Bel!" he said to himself; "he seems always to get the worst of
it; but when I told him so he only laughed, and said it was I."
He was in agony as to what he should do.
One moment he was for going to fetch help; the next he gave it up,
dreading to leave his cousin again.
By degrees, though, the poor fellow began to come to as the warmth
pervaded him; and at last, to Dallas's great delight, he opened his
eyes, stared at him wildly, and then looked round wonderingly till his
eyes lit upon the opening, over which his cousin had pegged a rug.
He started violently then, and the memory of all that had taken place
came back.
Clapping his hand to his throat, he wrenched his head round so that he
could look in the direction of the bed.
"The gold--the bag of gold!" he whispered.
"Gone, old fellow; but never mind that, so long as you are alive. Try
and drink this."
"No, not now," said Abel feebly. "I want to lie still and think. Yes,
I remember now; he broke in at the side there while I was asleep. He
had a knife, but I seized him. Did you come back then?"
"No, I have not long been home. Shall I go and ask Norton to come?"
"No, don't leave me, Dal; I am so weak. But where is the dog?"
"He was not here when I broke in."
"You broke in?"
"Yes; I could not make you hear. I say, though, had I not better fetch
help?"
"What for? There is no doctor; and he might come back."
Dallas had started, for as Abel spoke there was a loud thumping at the
door. His hand went behind to his revolver, which he held ready, fully
expecting from his cousin's manner that the marauder who had attacked
him had returned; but to the delight of both, after a second blow on the
door, the familiar voice of Tregelly was heard in a cheery hail.
"Hullo, there!" he cried. "Any one at home?"
Dallas darted to the door, threw it open, and there in the gloomy light
of mid-day stood their friend with a load over his shoulder.
"Back again, then? I was coming to see. But I say, what's the meaning
of this--is it a trap?"
"Is what a trap?" said Dallas.
"Putting this bag out yonder with the dog to watch it and snap at any
one who touches it. Is the bag yours?"
"Yes, of course," exclaimed Dallas excitedly; "but where was it?"
"Outside, I tell you; but it's a failure if it's a trap, for the dog's
dead."
Dallas rushed out, followed by his visitor, and there in the dim light
lay the dog, stretched out upon the snow, perfectly stiff and
motionless.
"I see how it was now," cried Dallas excitedly; and as their neighbour
helped him carry the dog in, he told him in a few words of how he had
found matters on his return.
"Poor brute! Was he in the place, then?"
"I suppose so, and he must have attacked the scoundrel, and made him
drop the bag."
"And then lay down to watch it, dying at his post. If he had lived I'd
have given something for that dog."
"Indeed you would not," said Dallas warmly. "No gold would have bought
him."
The dog was laid down by the fire, but Tregelly shook his head.
"Might as well save his skin, youngsters; but you'll have to thaw him
first."
"Is he dead?" asked Abel feebly.
"No doubt about that," replied Tregelly. "It's a pity, too, for he was
a good dog. Those Eskimo, as a rule, are horrid brutes, eating up
everything, even to their harness; but this one was something. I'd come
up to bring Mr Wray here half one o' my hams, but you won't want it
now."
"No," said Dallas; "and I can send you back loaded, and be out of debt."
"Well, I can't say what I lent you won't be welcome. My word, though,
you brought a good load."
"Set to and play cook," said Dallas, "while I tidy up. I'm sure you
could eat some breakfast, and I'm starving."
"So am I," cried their visitor, laughing. "Beginning to feel better,
master?" he added, turning to Abel.
"Yes; only I'm so stiff, and my throat is so painful."
"Cheer up, my lad; that'll soon get better. I only wish, though, I had
come last night when that fellow was here. I don't believe my
conscience would ever have said anything if I had put a bullet through
him."
Abel lay silent near the fire, watching the dog thoughtfully while
stores were unpacked and preparations made for a meal; but at last he
spoke.
"Dal," he said, "give me that knife that you found."
"What for? You had better lie still, and don't worry about anything now
except trying to get well."
"Give me the knife. I've been thinking. That man who attacked me last
night was one of that gang."
"What!" cried Tregelly, stopping in his task of frying bacon.
"Nonsense! they daren't show their noses here now."
"I feel sure of it," said Abel excitedly. "Let me look at that knife.
I believe it's the one that was stolen from the man on the lake."
Dallas looked at him doubtingly, before picking up the knife and shaking
his head. "It might be, or it might not," he said dubiously, as he
passed it to his cousin.
"Well, at any rate, Dal, they have tracked us down, and that accounts
for the attack."
"It looks like it," said Dallas; "but don't get excited, old fellow. I
don't want you to turn worse."
"But they must be somewhere close at hand, Dal," cried Abel; "and we may
be attacked again at any moment."
"All right, then, we'll be ready for them," said Dallas soothingly.
"Forewarned is forearmed."
"You are saying that just to calm me," said Abel bitterly. "You do not
believe me, but it is a fact. I felt something of the kind last night
in those horrible moments when he held my throat in that peculiar way.
It was out of revenge for the past. They have dogged us all the time,
and been close at our heels. Ah, look out!" he cried wildly, as he
tried to spring up--"Listen! I can hear them outside plainly."
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
THE STARTING OF A BODYGUARD.
"Nay, nay, lad," said Tregelly soothingly; "there's no one here now.
That bag of gold was enough to bring one of the rowdies down upon you,
but those three chaps wouldn't risk a meeting with the judge again."
"I don't know," said Dallas thoughtfully; "there is plenty of room
hereabout for them to be in, hiding; and they must have gone somewhere."
"Not much chance for a man to keep himself alive in this country,
without tackle and stores, or a shanty of his own."
"Unless he has attacked and murdered some one," said Abel bitterly.
"But you will see."
The poor fellow was so exhausted by what he had gone through that, after
painfully swallowing some of the tea that had been prepared, he dropped
into a stupor-like sleep, whilst Dallas watched him anxiously.
"That was fancy of his, my lad," said Tregelly, who was making a hearty
breakfast. "Come, you don't eat."
"How can I, with the poor fellow like this?" cried Dallas. "He seems to
come in for all the misfortune."
"Yes, he is a bit unlucky," replied Tregelly; "but you must eat if you
want to help him. Look here, I don't want to be unfeeling; but your
mate isn't dying of fever."
"No, no; but look at him."
"Yes, I have, and he has been a good deal knocked about, besides having
a frozen foot; but that will all get well. You are set up with
provisions again; you've got your gold back, and a good claim of your
own."
"Just good enough to keep us alive."
"Well, it isn't very lively work, my lad," said Tregelly; "but we must
make the best of it. We shall have the summer again soon, and do
better, perhaps."
"I hope so," said Dallas bitterly, "for we could never get through
another winter like this."
"You don't know till you try. And you take my advice: let your
brother--"
"My cousin."
"Well, it's all the same out here. Let him sleep all he can, and when
he's awake feed him up and keep him warm."
"I can't get rid of the feeling that I ought to go back to Yukon Town
and try to get a doctor."
"Nonsense, my son; he wants no doctor. And now look here; if I say
something to you, will you believe that it's meant honest?"
"Of course. What do you mean?"
"Only this, my son; that I don't want you to think that I want to come
and sponge upon you because you've got plenty of prog."
"Mr Tregelly!"
"Let me finish, my lad," said the big Cornishman. "I was going to say,
what do you think of me coming and pigging here with you for a bit, in
case what the youngster here says might be right; and if it is, you and
me could polish off that gang pretty well, better than you could alone,
or I could alone. Not that I'm skeered; but if young Wray here is right
they'll be down upon me too. But I don't want you to think--"
"But what about your gold?" said Dallas eagerly.
"If any one should go there, and can find it, I'll give it him."
"Is it so well hidden?"
"Yes; I've got it froze into the middle of a block of ice. They'll
never look there."
"Will you come?" said Dallas excitedly.
"I'll do better than that," said the Cornishman: "I'll stop now."
"You will?"
"Of course; and glad of the chance to help you. Yah!"
The big fellow jumped up in horror, as a loud rap came from close by.
"What was that?" cried Dallas, who was equally startled.
"It was that there dog's ghost got his tail thawed enough to give it a
rap on the floor to say, `That's right'; and I believe your cousin's
right too, now, and this is a message sent to us to say, `Look out, for
those three beauties are coming here again.'"
"Nonsense!" cried Dallas, going down on his knees; "the dog's alive."
"I'm blessed!" said his big friend. "Well, some things can stand being
froze hard and thawed out again better than we Christians. I s'pose
it's having such a thick coat. Look at him; he's got one eye open, and
he's winking."
In proof thereof came a low whine, as if in appeal for food.
"Look here, my sons," said Tregelly one day, as he came in last from the
dismal darkness without to the bright warmth of the hut, where the fire
was burning cheerily and an appetising odour of tea, damper, and fried
ham proclaimed how busy, weak as he still was, Abel had been; "I used to
grumble a deal down in old Cornwall because we had a lot o' wet days,
and say it was a country not fit for anything better than a duck to live
in; but I'm an altered man now, and I repent. It's a regular heaven
compared to this Klondike country. Hullo, Scruff, my son, how are you?"
The dog gave an amiable growl, and seemed to enjoy the gentle caress
the big miner gave him with his heavy boot, as he lay stretched out by
the fire.
"Don't grumble, Bob," said Dallas. "This looks cheery enough, and we've
done some good to-day."
"Oh, I'm not grumbling, my son; only making comparisons as is ojus.
That's what I used to write at school. This is a reg'lar Lord Mayor's
banquet for a hungry man. But my word, how dirty I am!"
"So am I," said Dallas. "What with the gravel and the wood-smoke, I
feel like a charcoal burner. I should like a wash, though."
"Wash, my son! I should like a bathe in our old Cornish sea, with the
sun shining on my back. And I say, a bit of our old fish. A few
pilchards or grilled mackerel, or a baked hake, with a pudding inside
him--or oh! a conger pie."
"Don't, Bob," said Dallas. "This is painful. And look here; either you
or I must go down to Yukon City with the sledge again, for the stores
are getting low."
"Nay," said the big Cornishman; "we'll have up what I've got down yonder
first. Clear out the place. There's enough there to last us a
fortnight longer; and I want to go there badly."
"Very well," said Dallas; "then we'll go. Feel well enough to come as
far as there to-morrow, Bel?"
"Yes; and I should like it," was the reply.
"Then we'll go. We'll shut up the dog here to keep house till we come
back, though no one is likely to come. I say, how much longer it has
been light to-day."
"Pretty sort of light!" growled Tregelly. "I could make better light
out of a London fog and some wet flannel. We got a fine lot of gravel
and washing stuff, though, out of the shaft to-day. Look here, I picked
out this."
He held out a tiny nugget of gold, about as big as a small pea; and it
was duly examined, put in a small canister upon the shelf, and then the
evening meal went on, and Tregelly refreshed himself with large draughts
of tea.