THE WAIF OF THE SNOW FOREST
Ethan winked several times as though he could hardly believe his eyes,
and little wonder; for there, half lying in the snow was a child, a
sturdy looking little chap not over five years of age possibly, and
uttering sounds that the boys now realized were pitiful moans.
Apparently the little fellow had actually tried to light a fire, for
there were a few sticks gathered, and half burned matches that had been
struck in the useless endeavor to ignite the wood, lay scattered on the
surface of the snow.
"Look at the little make-believe popgun, Phil," said Ethan, in a
quivering voice; "honest to goodness, I believe he's started out to hunt
game just as his daddy is in the habit of doing, and got lost. But,
Phil, he must be nearly frozen. Let's get a fire going and thaw him out
in a hurry!"
Phil had already leaped forward. Forgotten was his camera at that
moment, because his generous warm boyish heart was throbbing with
sympathy for the poor little chap lying there.
"How about it?" asked Ethan, hovering close by while the other hurriedly
examined the boy, who lay there with his eyes half open, seeing them,
yet not appearing to notice what they were doing, with only that doleful
little cry falling from his blue lips.
"No, he's not frozen yet, I believe," asserted Phil; "but another hour
would have done the business for him. I reckon he knew how to keep his
arms going until he got tuckered out. Get a fire started, Ethan."
That was all the other was waiting to hear, and in all probability Ethan
Allen excelled all his previous records for a quick blaze; because he
worked with might and main.
Meanwhile Phil was rubbing the hands and limbs of the child, astonished
beyond measure at having run across such a little fellow there in the
midst of that Canadian wilderness.
"Here you are, Phil; fetch him up close to it!" called out the other
boy, as he judiciously added further pieces of wood to the blaze he had
contrived to start.
Neither of them could solve the problem as to where the little fellow
had come from.
"He must have rained down," said Ethan; "or else he's been with that
other party of sportsmen, and slipped away from their camp, bent on
having a regular moose hunt of his own. Look at this popgun, will you;
it's one of the kind that has a spring in it, and shoots B. B. shot.
I've owned the same kind myself years ago. But what do you think, Phil?"
"I'm all up in the air," replied the other, candidly. "If he came from
that other camp he couldn't be connected with any of those rich
sportsmen, for you can see his clothes are those of poverty, though warm
enough. He must belong to some Canadian backwoods family. It might be
they've got a man and wife cooking for them in their camp, or the man as
a guide and the woman to get the meals. And the child could belong to
them, it might turn out."
"Didn't Mr. McNab tell us that terror of the pines, Anson Baylay, had
several kids at his home, as well as a wife, a small woman who knew how
to manage the big giant?" inquired Ethan.
"That's a fact!" declared Phil, looking again at the small boy; "I
wonder now if this could be one of his brood? But when he gets so he can
talk perhaps we'll be able to find out all about him."
"What's the program?" demanded Ethan; "we don't want to stay here, do
we, hoping some one may come in search of the poor kid?"
"No, our best plan is get him to camp with all speed. He may not be as
well off as I've hoped is the case. And with a night ahead of us, a
shelter, with food and a fire will be good for all of us. Fact is,
there's a change coming on; the sun has gone behind the clouds, and it
wouldn't surprise me if we had one of those blizzards you're so fond of
talking about."
"Well, for myself I wouldn't mind," said Ethan, loftily; "but it would
be pretty tough on the little chap if we got caught in a howling storm,
with the mercury going away down below zero. I'll take my turn carrying
him, Phil, remember."
"We'll have to change about, because he's going to be no light load,"
Phil admitted; "I wish the boy would come to himself; he might tell us
something that'd put us on the right track. But we're not going to wait
for that."
With these words he gathered the little fellow up in his arms and
started. Ethan on his part took charge of the guns, as well as the
camera; and in this manner they headed in what Phil believed to be a
bee-line for the camp.
It would have been no small task carrying the boy for any distance, even
under ordinary conditions; and the fact of their being on snow-shoes
made it all the more difficult.
Still, both of them were stalwart fellows, and able to do considerable
along the line of carrying burdens. Their outdoor life had given them
more strength than most boys of their age possessed.
Phil kept it up for quite a time.
"Better change off with me, now," Ethan hinted, for the fifth time.
"All right, then, Ethan; just lay those things down where I can get
them, and I'll give you the boy. He's some heft, believe me, and a
pretty chubby lad for his age, which I shouldn't take to be more than
five, or six at the most."
"But isn't it queer he hasn't come to, and asked us who we are, and
where we're taking him?" remarked the second boy, as he took the object
of their solicitude into his arms.
"He'll come out of it all right later on, I feel pretty sure," Phil
observed, as he loaded himself with the guns and camera, after which he
started ahead of his companion so as to break the way.
"There's a dash of color beginning to show in his cheeks, I do believe!"
called out Ethan, presently.
Later on he had to hand his burden over to the other; and this sort of
thing continued many times, until all of two hours had gone.
Both boys were growing very tired after their long tramp, and now with
carrying their human burden, too. But Phil buoyed up the spirits of his
chum by saving that they were close on the camp.
"I can see where the lake lies over yonder," he remarked, when they
chanced to be on a rise that gave them a chance to see around more or
less; "and away over in that direction there's a black smoke rising that
must come from the camp of that other party with James Bodman."
"But that isn't where we've just come from, Phil?" observed Ethan,
shrewdly.
"Far away from it, to tell the truth, and I see what you mean, Ethan. It
doesn't look as if this chap could ever have wandered away from _that_
camp this morning, because he would have had to cover miles, which he
could never have done with all the deep snow."
"And, Phil, it must be that he's a Baylay; but we'll find all that out
when he comes to himself again in the camp. I'm rested now, so give me a
chance to spell you."
Both of them were more pleased than they would have liked to say when
they discovered the little shack they had built close to the shore of
the lake; with X-Ray just starting out ax in hand to cut some wood.
Ethan gave a whoop, and Lub came running out of the shelter, all
excitement.
"Bringing home the bacon, are you, fellows?" he called; "well, you do
seem to be staggering under a bully old load, Ethan. Have you bothered
getting the moose's head, horns and all to camp? Might have left that
hanging up till--well, what's this I see? Great Jehosophat! this isn't a
moose's head; it's a child!"
X-Ray was equally astounded. They crowded around, and stared, and seemed
ready to fairly burst with curiosity.
"Wait till we get him between blankets, boys, and then you'll have the
whole story," said Phil.
Lub rushed in ahead of the others, and it was his blanket that he held
up in front of the fire to "get it good and warm for the poor little
chap," he explained.
There was more color creeping into the face of the unknown child, Phil
discovered. He did not believe anything serious could have come upon
him, and hoped for the best.
"I really think he's sleeping from exhaustion and fright now," he told
the others, after they had bundled their charge up snugly, and were
sitting there before the glowing fire, with both Lub and X-Ray
impatiently waiting to hear all about the remarkable occurrence; for it
is not often that hunters start out after moose and return bearing a
child that they have saved from being frozen to death.
By degrees the story was told, first how the two hunters managed to get
close up on the cow moose so that Phil could take a couple of snapshots;
and then later on when aiming to discover the beaver village how they
had run upon the lad in the thicket, where he had gone to try and make a
fire.
"Think of the little duffer having matches in his pocket, and believing
he knew all about the job of making a fire, too," said Ethan, as though
he considered this the most remarkable feature of the whole thing.
The little toy gun had been carefully carried along with their own
larger weapons and Phil held it up as he went on to say:
"And he was trying to find his deer just as much as we were, it seems
like, from his having this 'repeater' in his possession. That's why I
think he must belong to a backwoodsman or a guide, because children in
such families take to doing all these things like ducks do to water."
"And," continued Ethan, solemnly, "so far as we know there's only one
party up in this neighborhood who has kids of his own, because you
remember Mr. McNab told us about him."
"Gee! you mean that terrible Baylay, don't you?" asked Lub, aghast, as
he glanced apprehensively toward the place where the child was snuggled
in his blanket, and then toward the adjacent woods.
"Yes, Ethan and myself have about come to the conclusion he must be a
chip of the old block, a Baylay, afraid of nothing; though he did bite
off more than he could chew when he started off on a hunt for big game
in winter time, and found himself lost in the forest, with the snow half
way up to his neck in places."
They talked it all over, but no one could suggest any particular thing
they could do, save to keep the boy in camp, and wait to see what would
turn up.
It came time for them to think of getting supper. X-Ray generously
offered to "spell" Lub, for he was afraid they were overdoing it in
allowing the stout youth to fill the office of cook continually, and
that he might suddenly rebel.
"I don't mind having some help, since you are so kind, X-Ray," Lub told
him; "and so the first thing you do fetch me some more wood."
X-Ray had perhaps thought to be the "chief-cook-and-bottle-washer"
himself for once, as he himself expressed it, for he made a wry face
upon being ordered about in such a summary fashion. However, he nodded
his head toward the autocrat of the culinary department, and went off to
get his arms full of fuel, saying as he did so:
"Anything to keep peace in the family; and besides I'll have some say
about the bill of fare we put up at our hotel this night."
While supper was cooking Ethan caught hold of Phil's sleeve and pointed
over to where the little chap had been placed, rolled up in Lub's
blanket. He was now sitting bolt upright, and rubbing his eyes with his
knuckles as though he did not know what to make of it all.
Phil immediately hurried over, and threw himself down beside the little
fellow.
"It's all right, bub, we're your friends, and mean to keep you here with
us until your daddy comes along for you. Went out hunting, eh, and got
lost? Well, never mind, plenty of bigger men than you have done the same
thing. You tried the best you knew how to light a fire, too; and I
believe you'd have done it if the ground had been clear of snow, so you
could find plenty of small wood. But supper will be ready soon, and
we're expecting you to be pretty hungry."
Somehow there was that about Phil Bradley to invite the confidence of
any one, especially when he smiled as Phil was doing now, and spoke so
soothingly, and directly from the heart.
It was not long before he had the little chap smiling; and when Lub came
over into the shelter with a cup of warm soup for the boy, he drank it
ravenously. This told Phil that it must have been many hours since the
child had tasted any food.
"I wouldn't be surprised if he left his home, wherever that can be,
early this morning, and had been pushing his way through the snow ever
since. No wonder he was all tired out, and couldn't say a word, but keep
on moaning. But he's all right now."
"If they start out and follow his trail," ventured X-Ray, with one of
those bright inspirations that had given him his nick-name, "they'll
show up here in our camp some time or other, I should say. Whee! I hope
now, that terror of the pines will be reasonable, and believe what we
tell him; that is, I don't want him to suspect we tried to kidnap Johnny
here."
"By the way, I wonder what his name really is?" said Lub.
"Ask him, Phil; he seems to think a heap of you already," suggested
X-Ray.
Accordingly Phil bent over the boy, while the others crowded around.
"We want to know whose boy you are, and what your name is, my little
man. Do they call you Johnny at home?" he asked, and as clearly as
possible.
The small urchin shook his curly head vigorously; he even in a measure
returned Phil's smile; and then started to make a series of
unintelligible noises that sent a thrill through Phil's heart.
The latter turned with piteous look toward his chums, whose faces
reflected his expression of commiseration, almost horror.
"No wonder he didn't say anything, boys!" exclaimed Phil; "for don't you
see the poor little chap is tongue-tied?"