OFF FOR THE NORTH.
Monday morning dawned bright and clear with the temperature fifteen
below zero. Late Saturday night and nearly all day Sunday it had
snowed and nearly eighteen inches were added to the little which had
covered the ground when they had landed. The intervening days had
been busy ones. What with getting everything in readiness for the
start and spending as much time as was possible with Captain Blake,
who seemed loath to let them out of his sight, their time had been
fully occupied. They had seen much of Pete Slinger and had come to
love the little Irishman. And not only that, but their respect for
him grew by leaps and bounds as they had frequent exhibitions of his
wonderful ability along many lines.
"I wonder if there's anything he can't do," Jack said after he had
seen him put a barrel of flour on to his shoulder with apparent ease.
"I don't know what it is if there is," the captain told him.
Pete, on his side, fairly seemed to worship the boys and there was
nothing too much for him to do for them.
The ship was to sail at noon that day and Captain Blake had said the
night before that he was glad as the place would seem very lonesome
to him after they had gone.
It was only a few minutes after seven o'clock and still dark when
they reached the store. As they approached they saw a long narrow
sled loaded nearly three feet high with all sorts of packages.
Hitched single file to it were six dogs who growled ominously as they
came up.
"Lucky's on time all right," the captain said as he mounted the steps.
"Those dogs don't seem very much pleased to see us," Jack declared as
he followed close at his heels.
"I guess they'll be all right when they get acquainted," Bob said.
"Here yees are," Pete greeted them as the captain pushed open the
door. "I was jest tellin' Lucky thot he'd have ter go an' pull yees
out uv bed."
Everything was all ready for the start and the good byes were quickly
said. Outside once more Lucky grasped one of the handles, which
stuck out breast high at the rear of the sled, with one hand while
with the other he swung the long raw hide whip which cracked with a
report like that of a forty-five.
"Mush," he ordered and the dogs started off up the street while the
boys fell in behind.
"Good bye an' good luck to yees," Pete shouted.
"God keep you," the captain called after them.
"Good bye, good bye," the boys called back.
Lucky Hogan had explained the night before that they were to cut
across country for a distance of some 250 miles where they would
strike the river at about the same distance from the coast. As they
left the town the stars above were just beginning to pale while in
the east a faint glow told of the coming day.
"If I go too fast let me know heap soon," Lucky called back over his
shoulder.
"We will that," Jack assured him.
Although they had started fairly early several teams had left ahead
of them and the trail was in fairly good shape. Nevertheless it was
hard traveling from the start. The snow was light and dry and the
footing anything but secure, and inside of an hour they were both
puffing hard.
"That fellow must think we're used to this all right," Jack panted,
glancing back over his shoulder at Bob who was a few feet behind.
"Tell him he'll have to slow up a bit," Bob suggested.
The Indian stopped the team as soon as Jack called to him and waited
for them to catch up.
"We go too fast, eh?" he asked.
"Just a little," Jack told him. "You see, we're a bit soft and it'll
take a few miles to get our muscles hardened up."
"Injun try remember, go slower," he promised.
"Hope he doesn't think we're lazy," Bob whispered as Lucky started up
the dogs again after allowing them to rest for a few minutes.
About nine o'clock the sun came up and it began to warm up a little
and soon the boys were forced to discard their heavy mackinaws. The
country, through which they were passing, was hilly and Jack declared
that they were going either up hill or down all the time and he was
not far wrong. About every hour the Indian stopped the team and
allowed the dogs to rest for some ten minutes and the boys were glad
of the breathing spells.
When noon came they halted at the foot of a long steep hill and ate
their lunch which Pete had provided, washing it down with hot coffee
from a thermos bottle.
"How far have we come?" Jack asked.
"'Bout twenty mile," the Indian told him.
"Gee, is that all?"
"No mak' fast time in deep snow."
"Well, we've been going fast enough to suit me," Bob laughed.
"Same here," Jack added.
The Indian, before eating, had fed the dogs, giving each a frozen
fish, and they were now lying in the snow. Jack, as soon as he had
finished, went toward them thinking that it would be a good time to
get acquainted. But an ominous growl caused him to stop and look
back inquiringly.
"Better wait," the Indian cautioned him and he came back. "Them dog
heap bad when them no know you. Them know you ver' soon then you
touch um," he explained.
"Would they bite me now?"
"Plenty apt bite now, not after while."
"Then I reckon I'll wait," Jack grinned as he sat down on the snow
beside the trail. "But, I say, Lucky, they look like fine dogs."
"Them heap best dogs ever was," the Indian replied proudly. "They
all one litter, oui. Injun had der father an' mother, raise um."
"How old are they?" Bob asked.
"Two year come summer."
"They're little more that pups then?"
"But they ver' strong and heap fast."
"I'll bet they are," Jack agreed.
"That lead dog heem Lightning an' next Thunder," the Indian told them.
"Those are good names," Bob said. "What do you call the others?"
"Next one Pete, den Kish, den Slack an' der sled dog heem Jim."
"Did you name that one after Pete Slinger?" Jack asked.
"Oui, heem bon friend to Injun an' Pete heem ver 'bon dog."
"But how about Slack? Why do you call him that?" Bob asked.
"Heem lazy, heem strong like moose, but heem lik' hang back. Call
heem Slack."
"What breed are they?"
"Mother was Esquimo dog, heap beeg girl an' father heem timber wolf."
"You mean they're half wolf?"
"Oui."
"But where did you get him?"
"Injun catch um when ver' leetle pup."
"But I always thought you couldn't tame a wolf," Jack broke in.
"No geet ver' fame, but heem know Injun, no other man touch heem,
jest Injun."
"Have you got them now?" Jack asked.
"No got. Heem break chain one night, go off an' no come back. Mebby
geet shot. She geet seek ver' soon an' die, seex moons gone."
They had met no one all morning, but they were only about half way up
the hill when, almost without warning, a team swept around a bend in
the trail. Coming down the hill they were traveling fast and, before
Lucky could get his team out of the way, the two leaders had met.
The boys were some thirty feet behind the sled and by the time they
reached the scene of action the air seemed, as Jack afterward
declared, full of dogs. The yelps and growls of the combatants
drowned the voices of the Indian and the driver of the other team as
they shouted orders to which the dogs paid not the slightest
attention. There were six dogs in the other team and, for a moment,
they seemed well matched so far as the boys could see, but soon even
they could tell that the strangers were getting far the worst of it.
"Our dogs'll kill them," Bob shouted.
But the fight was over almost as quickly as it had started. The
stranger's dogs, evidently realizing that they were outclassed, soon
gave up the combat and shrank back whining piteously. Lucky's dogs
did not press their advantage being apparently satisfied with the
result. But the driver of the beaten team did not show as good
judgment. He was a large burly man whose dark skin and high cheek
bones indicated that he was a half breed. No sooner had the dogs
separated than, with a snarl of rage, he drew an ugly looking
revolver from his belt and aimed it at Lightning.
"Don't shoot him," Jack gasped.
Then an amazing thing took place. Lucky was about twelve feet from
the breed when the latter drew his gun and, with a movement of his
arm incredibly swift, his whip lash darted out and the end wrapped
itself about the barrel of the revolver. Another quick movement and
the gun was snatched from the man's hand and sent flying through the
air to fall in the snow twenty feet away. The entire scene took
place so swiftly that it was all over before the boys realized what
had happened.
"Did you see that?" Bob gasped.
But before Jack could answer the breed had leaped for the Indian with
a hoarse cry of rage. The boys held their breath wondering what was
coming next, but they did not have long to wait. They had suspected
that the Indian was possessed of great strength, but what they saw
amazed them. As the breed rushed toward him the Indian bent his body
slightly to meet the attack and the next instant they saw the
stranger lifted bodily and thrown several feet to fall sprawling in
the snow.
"How'd he do it?" Jack whispered.
"He did it all right," Bob replied. "Wonder if he's had enough."
The breed was slowly picking himself up a look of blank amazement on
his face. First he looked toward the boys and then turned to Lucky
who stood with a look of calm stoicism on his face.
"Better not," he said calmly as the breed took a step toward him.
There was something in the Indian's voice that gave the other pause
for he stopped and, for a moment stood as though undecided what to
do. Then he turned and started toward where the revolver had fallen.
"Stop."
At the order the breed turned his head but kept on.
"Stop."
This time he halted and growled:
"I'm goin' ter geet my gun."
"Injun geet eet," and he sprang from the trail and a moment later
picked the revolver from where it had fallen in the snow.
Removing the cartridges he threw them away and then, stepping close
to the breed, handed him the gun. For a second it seemed that the
breed was about to jump at the Indian's throat in spite of the lesson
he had already received, but he evidently thought better of it for he
snatched the gun from his hand and, thrusting it into his belt,
turned and went quickly back to where his dogs were lying in the
snow. Lucky followed and at his command his dogs rose and soon, with
the help of the boys, the team was out of the trail enough to permit
the other team to pass. Low rumbling growls came from the throats of
the dogs of both teams as they passed, but there was no move toward
another attack.
"Do you know that fellow?" Bob asked as soon as the stranger had
gotten out of hearing.
"Non, heem heap bad man."
"He's a heap disagreeable one," Jack added.
"But he tackled the wrong customer when he tackled you," Bob said
with an admiring glance at Lucky. "That was the prettiest throw I
ever saw: wish you would teach me how to do it."
"Oui, Injun show white boy sometime."
Lucky examined the harness, but found it had not been injured during
the fight and, at his cry of "mush" the dogs were off again.
"My, what a man," Bob said in a low tone as he and Jack fell in
behind.
"And then some," Jack added.
"It seems queer," Bob continued.
"What seems queer?"
"Why, Lucky."
"But what do you mean queer?"
"Well, he looks like an Indian and he acts like an Indian and we have
it from no less authority than the great Pete Slinger that he is an
Indian, but he talks like a Canuck and has an Irish name. Can you
beat it?"
"But he says heap once in a while and just a minute ago he referred
to you as a white boy. That's Indian all right."
At last they reached the top of the long hill and the trail dipped
down on the other side in an almost endless reach. It was four
o'clock when they reached the edge of a thick growth of trees and, as
it was nearly dark, Lucky proposed that they make camp for the night.
Both boys greeted the suggestion eagerly for, although they would
hesitate to acknowledge it, they were tired. Beneath the broad
branches of a giant spruce, which stood just within the edge of the
forest, the ground was nearly bare of snow and Lucky choose it as a
good place.
"White boys cut plenty boughs while Indian unpack stuff," he
suggested as he pulled two small, but sharp axes from beneath the
canvas which covered the load.
By the time they had enough of the fragrant boughs cut to satisfy
him, the Indian had the dogs fed and fixed for the night, what they
needed unpacked and a fire started.
"Talk about efficiency," Jack declared as he brought in his third
armful of boughs.
"He's it," Bob laughed.
"Hope he's as good a cook as he is at other things," Jack whispered.
"It'll be funny if he isn't."
"You mean it'll be a tragedy."
But their fears were groundless for in less than an hour from the
time they had reached the woods the Indian announced that supper was
ready. Venison steak and potatoes baked in the camp fire constituted
the main part of the meal and both boys declared that nothing had
ever fasted better. The Indian seemed pleased at their words of
praise and urged them to eat until both declared that they could not
get another mouthful down. They washed the dishes in melted snow
water which had been heating in a large iron kettle set in the hot
ashes.
It was now pitch dark and a light wind had sprung up during the last
half hour.
"You think it's going to storm?" Bob asked a little later as they sat
by the fire.
"Oui, Injun 'fraid so."
The wind had been increasing slowly, but steadily and now the moan of
the trees, as their tops swayed to and fro, filled the night. For an
hour or more they sat by the fire while, at Bob's invitation, the
Indian entertained them with stories of his early life. He was a
good story teller and they listened with bated breath as he told of
one adventure after another.
"Time to sleep now," he finally declared.
"I reckon," Bob agreed.
"You think it'll snow before morning?" Jack asked as he got to his
feet.
The Indian hesitated a moment. "Wind getting round Nor East, mean
snow," he finally declared.
From the sled, which had been left beneath the branches of another
spruce near by, he brought three sleeping bags, huge canvas affairs,
lined with bear skins and fitted with a flap, which could be drawn
completely over the head, but which was equipped with air holes so
that the sleeper would be able to breath easily.
"We ought to sleep warm in those things," Jack declared.
"Oui, sleep heap warm," Lucky assured them.
How long he had been asleep Bob did not know but, sometime in the
night, he awakened with a sudden start. For an instant he wondered
where he was and then, as memory returned, he wondered what had
disturbed him for he rarely woke up in the night unless there was a
cause. But, after listening intently for a moment and hearing
nothing save the sighing of the trees and an occasional low growl
from one of the dogs, he decided that he had been mistaken and was
about to go to sleep again when, far off in the forest, he heard a
low but distinct howl.
"That sounds like a wolf," he thought.
And then, from a direction more to the right, came an answering howl
a little louder than the other.
He was lying close to Jack who was between him and the Indian and, as
the second howl rang through the forest, he felt his brother stir.
"Did you hear it?" He asked.
"Sure did."
"Sounded like a wolf."
"That's what I thought."
Then came the answer from the first wolf and now it was apparently
much nearer. Low menacing growls from the dogs indicated that they
too had heard the ominous sounds.
"They're coming this way," Jack declared.
"Sounds like it."
"Think there's any danger?"
"Injun build up fire. No come ver' near fire."
So Lucky also was awake. Bob had thought it a bit strange that the
Indian had not been awakened as he knew that most forest bred men
were light sleepers.
"Can we help?" he asked as he heard him crawling out from his
sleeping bag.
"Non. Plenty much wood. Injun feex heem."
The fire, as Bob could see from where he lay, had not entirely died
out and, as Lucky had said, there was plenty of wood, and soon it was
blazing up brightly the fight casting weird shadows.
"Wolf no come near fire," the Indian told them as he crawled back
into his bag.
"What time is it? Did you look?" Bob asked.
"Oui, three o'clock."
"Will that fire last till morning?"
"Injun keep heem feexed. White boys go sleep," he assured them.
"Is it snowing?" Jack asked.
"Oui, heem snow leetle, not hard--yet."
As they could tell by the sound of the howls the wolves were coming
nearer and, in spite of the Indian's assurance, the boys were unable
to go to sleep again.
"That fellow wasn't far off," Jack whispered a few minutes later.
"Neither was that one," Bob replied.
"Hope they know that they're supposed to be afraid of fire."
"Same here."
The dogs were getting more and more uneasy as the wolves came closer
and soon the boys heard the Indian again moving. He threw some more
wood on the fire and then, going to where the dogs were stationed, he
spoke to them in a low tone as if fearful that he would awaken the
boys. At his words the dogs ceased their growls, but a low whining
told that they were not fully reassured.
"We're not asleep," Bob called out.
"How many of them are there should you say?" Jack asked as the Indian
came back beneath the tree.
"Mebby ten, mebby more."
Howl now answered howl in rapid succession as the wolves came nearer
and, a few minutes later Bob, who was sitting up, thought he could
see a shadowy form on the other side of the fire and some twenty feet
away from it.
"Look, Jack," he whispered.
"I can't see anything."
"Just the other side of that big tree."
"I see it now."
"Heem no come nearer," the Indian assured him.
"How about trying a shot at him?" Bob whispered.
But before he could get out of his bag at his automatic, which was in
his belt, the wolf had disappeared.
"He saved his hide," Jack said.
That the roaring fire had been too much for the wolves to face was
evident as their howls grew; fainter and fainter and finally died out
altogether.
"I'm mighty glad they were educated wolves," Jack sighed as he
snuggled down in his bag.
"What you mean, educated?" Bob asked him.
"Why, that they were brought up to be afraid of fire."