_An Enemy to the Rescue_
The plan had been to set to work next morning to dig the house out of
the snow; that is to say, to dig away a space around the cabin. But the
Doctor forbade it.
"The more force we expend in work," he said, "the more food we must
have, and as we have pretty nearly no food now, we absolutely mustn't
expend any force unnecessarily. We must simply rest to-day, doing no
more shoveling than is necessary to open a little larger area around the
door, and to keep our path to the wood pile open."
That day, the next and the next were passed in idleness and with growing
hunger. The snow ceased for a time on the second day, but the severe
cold weather which alone could release the boys from their terrible
plight, did not come. On the third day, the snow began to fall again in
a pitiless and discouraging way, and by that time the food supply had
run so low that the Doctor's dole of it was too small even to ward off
the severe pangs of hunger.
Tom said that night: "Boys, I don't care what the consequences are, I'm
going to break out of this to-morrow morning or perish in the attempt.
I'd rather die in a snow bank, fighting for a chance, than sit here and
slowly starve to death. My strength is already waning, and before it
goes altogether I'm going to make an effort to get some food. If I wait
longer I sha'n't have either the strength or the courage to go at all."
This time nobody interposed an objection, but foreseeing Tom's need, and
knowing that he would accept nothing not shared equally by the others,
the Doctor deliberately dealt out a larger supply of beans than usual
that night. The meal was all gone. The pork had been eaten up, and after
the Doctor gave out this supper, which it would take till eleven or
twelve o'clock at night to cook, there was left only about two quarts of
beans in the camp, and absolutely not an ounce of food of any other
kind.
In ordinary circumstances, if the boys had been thus shut up in their
cabin and deprived of physical activity, they would have held long talks
and learned much. Especially they would have beset the Doctor with
questions, the answers to which would have interested them. But now they
were too hungry for material food, too starved of body and far too
depressed in mind to care for conversation of any kind. They simply sat
still and starved, in gloomy silence, and under the terrible oppression
of hopelessness and helplessness. All but Little Tom. His courage
survived, and as he sat before the fire waiting for the beans to cook,
he was resolutely planning ways and means by which, if possible, to make
the morrow's expedition successful. The chances, he knew, were a hundred
to one against him, and he was trying, by the exercise of a careful
foresight, to bring that one chance in a hundred within his grasp.
Presently he took off his boots and drove the heaviest nails there were
in the camp into their heels, letting the heads protrude more than a
quarter of an inch below the surface.
"What's that for, Tom?" asked Jack, in listless fashion.
"To keep me from slipping," Tom answered, "in climbing over rocks with
snow or ice on them."
"But you're not really going to try this thing to-morrow, are you? It
will be madness to attempt it."
"Probably," answered Tom. "But madness or sanity I'm going to make the
attempt. I don't see anything particularly sane in staying here in camp
and trusting to a quart or two of beans to keep life in six already
starved boys. I'd rather die trying than sitting still. So I'm going to
start at daylight."
There was no use in arguing, particularly as the argument was manifestly
all on Tom's side. So all the boys remained silent.
"I'm going to take two guns," said Tom, presently, "the rifle and a shot
gun, so as to lose no chance of any game, big or little. I'll pretty
certainly lose one of the guns before I get back if I ever get back at
all."
Nobody said anything in reply. Tom's remark had been addressed to nobody
in particular. Indeed it was rather a reflection out loud than a remark.
Then Tom proceeded to get his ammunition belt ready. The rifle was
already loaded in its magazine, with fourteen cartridges. For the shot
gun, Tom put into his belt, twenty cartridges loaded with nine buckshot
each, and twenty that carried turkey shot--these last for game smaller
than deer.
"I'll kill anything I see," he said, presently, "from a skunk to a big
buck deer. We are hungry enough now to eat any sort of meat that may
come to our hand."
Just then a noise was heard on the snow-covered roof--a noise as of
scratching and slipping. Nobody heard it but Tom, but his senses were
already in that condition of alertness which the morrow's work would
require for its success. So, without saying anything to his comrades,
Tom took the rifle, opened the door, and went out to see what the matter
might be. He reflected as he did so, that it was probably only some
slipping of the snow and ice upon the clapboards, but at any rate he
wanted to see for himself the cause of it.
A few minutes later the boys inside the hut were startled by two cracks
of a rifle and a heavy fall, just in front of the door. They seized
their guns and rushed out, stumbling over something at the door as they
did so.
"Look out there!" called Tom, eagerly; "don't risk a blow from his claws
yet. He may have life in him still. Let me give him one more bullet to
make sure."
With that Tom advanced and fired once more into the carcass of the large
black bear that he had already killed.
"It's pretty hard, isn't it?" said Tom.
"What is?" asked the Doctor.
"Why, to shoot a friend that had come to our rescue as that fellow did."
"I don't understand."
"Oh, yes you do, or at least you ought to," answered Tom, in whom the
long continued, but now released, nervous strain, had wrought an
irritable mood. "Don't you see that fellow came here just in time to
rescue us from starvation--for I had hardly a hope of getting back with
any game from to-morrow's expedition--and he brought a huge supply of
bear's meat with him, under his skin. By the way, boys, skin him
carefully, as his hide will be a valuable addition to my collection of
pelts. I have the painter's coat, a deer's hide, the skins of several
raccoons and opossums, thirty or forty squirrel and hare skins, and now
this bear's thick overcoat will greatly increase the value of my
collection. Skin him carefully, but quickly, for we're going to have a
dinner of bear beef before we go to bed, and we'll eat bear beef to our
hearts' content till the weather releases us from our prison. I'm not
going out for game to-morrow."