RODERICK EXPLORES THE CHASM
To Rod the blazing pine seemed to be but a short distance away--a mile,
perhaps a little more. In the silence of the two Indians as they
contemplated the strange fire he read an ominous meaning. In Mukoki's
eyes was a dull sullen glare, not unlike that which fills the orbs of a
wild beast in a moment of deadly anger. Wabi's face was filled with an
eager flush, and three times, Rod observed, he turned eyes strangely
burning with some unnatural passion upon Mukoki.
Slowly, even as the instincts of his race had aroused the latent,
brutish love of slaughter and the chase in the tamed wolf, the long
smothered instincts of these human children of the forest began to
betray themselves in their bronzed countenances. Rod watched, and he was
thrilled to the soul. Back at the old cabin they had declared war upon
the Woongas. Both Mukoki and Wabigoon had slipped the leashes that had
long restrained them from meting first vengeance upon their enemies. Now
the opportunity had come. For five minutes the great pine blazed, and
then died away until it was only a smoldering tower of light. Still
Mukoki gazed, speechless and grim, out into the distance of the night.
At last Wabi broke the silence.
"How far away is it, Muky?"
"T'ree mile," answered the old warrior without hesitation.
"We could make it in forty minutes."
"Yes."
Wabi turned to Rod.
"You can find your way back to camp alone, can't you?" he asked.
"Not if you're going over there!" declared the white boy. "I'm going
with you."
Mukoki broke in upon them with a harsh disappointed laugh.
"No go. No go over there." He spoke with emphasis, and shook his head.
"We lose pine in five minutes. No find Woonga camp--make big trail for
Woongas to see in morning. Better wait. Follow um trail in day, then
shoot!"
Rod found immense relief in the old Indian's decision. He did not fear a
fight; in fact, he was a little too anxious to meet the outlaws who had
stolen his gun, now that they had determined upon opening fire on sight.
But in this instance he was possessed of the cooler judgment of his
race. He believed that as yet the Woongas were not aware of their
presence in this region, and that there was still a large possibility of
the renegades traveling northward beyond their trapping sphere. He hoped
that this would be the case, in spite of his desire to recapture his
gun. A scrimmage with the Woongas just now would spoil the plans he had
made for discovering gold.
The "Skeleton Mine," as he had come to call it, now absorbed his
thoughts beyond everything else. He felt confident that he would
discover the lost treasure ground if given time, and he was just as
confident that if war was once begun between themselves and the Woongas
it would mean disaster or quick flight from the country. Even Wabi,
worked up more in battle enthusiasm than by gold fever, conceded that if
half of the Woongas were in this country they were much too powerful for
them to cope with successfully, especially as one of them was without a
rifle.
It was therefore with inward exultation that Rod saw the project of
attack dropped and Mukoki and Wabigoon proceed with their short task of
scalping the seven wolves. During this operation Wolf was allowed to
feast upon the carcass of the buck.
That night there was but little sleep in the old cabin. It was two
o'clock when the hunters arrived in camp and from that hour until nearly
four they sat about the hot stove making plans for the day that was
nearly at hand. Rod could but contrast the excitement that had now taken
possession of them with the tranquil joy with which they had first taken
up their abode in this dip in the hilltop. And how different were their
plans from those of two or three days ago! Not one of them now but
realized their peril. They were in an ideal hunting range, but it was
evidently very near, if not actually in, the Woonga country. At any
moment they might be forced to fight for their lives or abandon their
camp, and perhaps they would be compelled to do both.
So the gathering about the stove was in reality a small council of war.
It was decided that the old cabin should immediately be put into a
condition of defense, with a loophole on each side, strong new bars at
the door, and with a thick barricade near at hand that could be quickly
fitted against the window in case of attack. Until the war-clouds
cleared away, if they cleared at all, the camp would be continually
guarded by one of the hunters, and with this garrison would be left both
of the heavy revolvers. At dawn or a little later Mukoki would set out
upon Wabi's trap-line, both to become acquainted with it and to extend
the line of traps, while later in the day the Indian youth would follow
Mukoki's line, visiting the houses already built and setting other
traps. This scheme left to Rod the first day's watch in camp.
Mukoki aroused himself from his short sleep with the first approach of
dawn but did not awaken his tired companions until breakfast was ready.
When the meal was finished he seized his gun and signified his intention
of visiting the mink traps just beyond the hill before leaving on his
long day's trail. Rod at once joined him, leaving Wabi to wash the
dishes.
They were shortly within view of the trap-houses near the creek.
Instinctively the eyes of both rested upon these houses and neither gave
very close attention to the country ahead or about them. As a result
both were exceedingly startled when they heard a huge snort and a great
crunching in the deep snow close beside them. From out of a small growth
of alders had dashed a big bull moose, who was now tearing with the
speed of a horse up the hillside toward the hidden camp, evidently
seeking the quick shelter of the dip.
"Wait heem git top of hill!" shouted Mukoki, swinging his rifle to his
shoulder. "Wait!"
It was a beautiful shot and Rod was tempted to ignore the old Indian's
advice. But he knew that there was some good reason for it, so he held
his trembling finger. Hardly had the animal's huge antlered head risen
to the sky-line when Mukoki shouted again, and the young hunter pressed
the trigger of his automatic gun three times in rapid succession. It was
a short shot, not more than two hundred yards, and Mukoki fired but once
just as the bull mounted the hilltop.
The next instant the moose was gone and Rod was just about to dash in
pursuit when his companion caught him by the arm.
"We got um!" he grinned. "He run downhill, then fall--ver' close to
camp. Ver' good scheme--wait heem git on top hill. No have to carry meat
far!"
As coolly as though nothing had occurred the Indian turned again in the
direction of the traps. Rod stood as though he had been nailed to the
spot, his mouth half open in astonishment.
"We go see traps," urged Mukoki. "Find moose dead when we go back."
But Roderick Drew, who had hunted nothing larger than house rats in his
own city, was not the young man to see the logic of this reasoning, and
before Mukoki could open his mouth again he was hurrying up the hill. On
its summit he saw a huge torn-up blotch in the snow, spattered with
blood, where the moose had fallen first after the shots; and at the foot
of the hill, as the Indian had predicted, the great animal lay dead.
Wabi was hastening across the lake, attracted by the shots, and both
reached the slain bull at about the same time. Rod quickly perceived
that three shots had taken effect; one, which was undoubtedly Mukoki's
carefully directed ball, in a vital spot behind the fore leg, and two
through the body. The fact that two of his own shots had taken good
effect filled the white youth with enthusiasm, and he was still
gesticulating excitedly in describing the bull's flight to Wabi when the
old Indian came over the hill, grinning broadly, and holding up for
their inspection a magnificent mink.
The day could not have begun more auspiciously for the hunters, and by
the time Mukoki was ready to leave upon his long trail the adventurers
were in buoyant spirits, the distressing fears of the preceding night
being somewhat dispelled by their present good fortune and the glorious
day which now broke in full splendor upon the wilderness.
Until their early dinner Wabi remained in camp, securing certain parts
of the moose and assisting Rod in putting the cabin into a state of
defense according to their previous plans. It was not yet noon when he
started over Mukoki's trap-line.
Left to his own uninterrupted thoughts, Rod's mind was once more
absorbed in his scheme of exploring the mysterious chasm. He had noticed
during his inspection from the top of the ridge that the winter snows
had as yet fallen but little in the gloomy gulch between the mountains,
and he was eager to attempt his adventure before other snows came or the
fierce blizzards of December filled the chasm with drifts. Later in the
afternoon he brought forth the buckskin bag from a niche in the log wall
where it had been concealed, and one after another carefully examined
the golden nuggets. He found, as he had expected, that they were worn to
exceeding smoothness, and that every edge had been dulled and rounded.
Rod's favorite study in school had been a minor branch of geology and
mineralogy, and he knew that only running water could work this
smoothness. He was therefore confident that the nuggets had been
discovered in or on the edge of a running stream. And that stream, he
was sure, was the one in the chasm.
But Rod's plans for an early investigation were doomed to
disappointment. Late that day both Mukoki and Wabi returned, the latter
with a red fox and another mink, the former with a fisher, which
reminded Rod of a dog just growing out of puppyhood, and another story
of strange trails that renewed their former apprehensions. The old
Indian had discovered the remnants of the burned jackpine, and about it
were the snow-shoe tracks of three Indians. One of these trails came
from the north and two from the west, which led him to believe that the
pine had been fired as a signal to call the two. At the very end of
their trap-line, which extended about four miles from camp, a single
snow-shoe trail had cut across at right angles, also swinging into the
north.
These discoveries necessitated a new arrangement of the plans that had
been made the preceding night. Hereafter, it was agreed, only one
trap-line would be visited each day, and by two of the hunters in
company, both armed with rifles. Rod saw that this meant the abandonment
of his scheme for exploring the chasm, at least for the present.
Day after day now passed without evidences of new trails, and each day
added to the hopes of the adventurers that they were at last to be left
alone in the country. Never had Mukoki or Wabigoon been in a better
trapping ground, and every visit to their lines added to their hoard of
furs. If left unmolested it was plainly evident that they would take a
small fortune back to Wabinosh House with them early in the spring.
Besides many mink, several fisher, two red foxes and a lynx, they added
two fine "cross" foxes and three wolf scalps to their treasure during
the next three weeks. Rod began to think occasionally of the joy their
success would bring to the little home hundreds of miles away, where he
knew that the mother was waiting and praying for him every day of her
life; and there were times, too, when he found himself counting the days
that must still elapse before he returned to Minnetaki and the Post.
But at no time did he give up his determination to explore the chasm.
From the first Mukoki and Wabigoon had regarded this project with little
favor, declaring the impossibility of discovering gold under snow, even
though gold was there; so Rod waited and watched for an opportunity to
make the search alone, saying nothing about his plans.
On a beautiful day late in December, when the sun rose with dazzling
brightness, his opportunity came. Wabi was to remain in camp, and
Mukoki, who was again of the belief that they were safe from the
Woongas, was to follow one of the trap-lines alone. Supplying himself
well with food, taking Wabi's rifle, a double allowance of cartridges, a
knife, belt-ax, and a heavy blanket in his pack, Rod set out for the
chasm. Wabi laughed as he stood in the doorway to see him off.
"Good luck to you, Rod; hope you find gold," he cried gaily, waving a
final good-by with his hand.
"If I don't return to-night don't you fellows worry about me," called
back the youth. "If things look promising I may camp in the chasm and
take up the hunt again in the morning."
He now passed quickly to the second ridge, knowing from previous
experience that it would be impossible to make a descent into the gulch
from the first mountain. This range, a mile south of the camp, had not
been explored by the hunters, but Rod was sure that there was no danger
of losing himself as long as he followed along the edge of the chasm
which was in itself a constant and infallible guide. Much to his
disappointment he found that the southern walls of this mysterious break
between the mountains were as precipitous as those on the opposite side,
and for two hours he looked in vain for a place where he might climb
down. The country was now becoming densely wooded and he was constantly
encountering signs of big game. But he paid little attention to these.
Finally he came to a point where the forest swept over and down the
steep side of the mountain, and to his great joy he saw that by
strapping his snow-shoes to his back and making good use of his hands it
was possible for him to make a descent.
Fifteen minutes later, breathless but triumphant, he stood at the bottom
of the chasm. On his right rose the strip of cedar forest; on his left
he was shut in by towering walls of black and shattered rock. At his
feet was the little stream which had played such an important part in
his golden dreams, frozen in places, and in others kept clear of ice by
the swiftness of its current. A little ahead of him was that gloomy,
sunless part of the chasm into which he had peered so often from the top
of the ridge on the north. As he advanced step by step into its
mysterious silence, his eyes alert, his nerves stretched to a tension of
the keenest expectancy, there crept over him a feeling that he was
invading that enchanted territory which, even at this moment, might be
guarded by the spirits of the two mortals who had died because of the
treasure it held.
Narrower and narrower became the walls high over his head. Not a ray of
sunlight penetrated into the soundless gloom. Not a leaf shivered in the
still air. The creek gurgled and spattered among its rocks, without the
note of a bird or the chirp of a squirrel to interrupt its monotony.
Everything was dead. Now and then Rod could hear the wind whispering
over the top of the chasm. But not a breath of it came down to him.
Under his feet was only sufficient snow to deaden his own footsteps, and
he still carried his snow-shoes upon his back.
Suddenly, from the thick gloom that hung under one of the cragged walls,
there came a thundering, unearthly sound that made him stop, his rifle
swung half to shoulder. He saw that he had disturbed a great owl, and
passed on. Now and then he paused beside the creek and took up handful
after handful of its pebbles, his heart beating high with hope at every
new gleam he caught among them, and never sinking to disappointment
though he found no gold. The gold was here--somewhere. He was as certain
of that as he was of the fact that he was living, and searching for it.
Everything assured him of that; the towering masses of cleft rock, whole
walls seeming about to crumble into ruin, the broad margins of pebbles
along the creek--everything, to the very stillness and mystery in the
air, spoke this as the abode of the skeletons' secret.
It was this inexplicable _something_--this unseen, mysterious element
hovering in the air that caused the white youth to advance step by step,
silently, cautiously, as though the slightest sound under his feet might
awaken the deadliest of enemies. And it was because of this stealth in
his progress that he came very close upon something that was living, and
without startling it. Less than fifty yards ahead of him he saw an
object moving slowly among the rocks. It was a fox. Even before the
animal had detected his presence he had aimed and fired.
Thunderous echoes rose up about him. They rolled down the chasm, volume
upon volume, until in the ghostly gloom between the mountain walls he
stood and listened, a nervous shiver catching him once or twice. Not
until the last echo had died away did he approach where the fox lay upon
the snow. It was not red. It was not black. It was not--
His heart gave a big excited thump. The bleeding creature at his feet
was the most beautiful animal he had ever seen--and the tip of its thick
black fur was silver gray.
Then, in that lonely chasm, there went up a great human whoop of joy.
"A silver fox!"
Rod spoke the words aloud. For five minutes he stood and looked upon his
prize. He held it up and stroked it, and from what Wabi and Mukoki had
told him he knew that the silken pelt of this creature was worth more to
them than all the furs at the camp together.
He made no effort to skin it, but put the animal in his pack and resumed
his slow, noiseless exploration of the gulch.
He had now passed beyond those points in the range from which he had
looked down into this narrow, shut-in world. Ever more wild and gloomy
became the chasm. At times the two walls of rock seemed almost to meet
far above his head; under gigantic, overhanging crags there lurked the
shadows of night. Fascinated by the grandeur and loneliness of the
scenes through which he was passing Rod forgot the travel of time. Mile
after mile he continued his tireless trail. He had no inclination to
eat. He stopped only once at the creek to drink. And when he looked at
his watch he was astonished to find that it was three o'clock in the
afternoon.
It was now too late to think of returning to camp. Within an hour the
day gloom of the chasm would be thickening into that of night. So Rod
stopped at the first good camp site, threw off his pack, and proceeded
with the building of a cedar shelter. Not until this was completed and a
sufficient supply of wood for the night's fire was at hand did he begin
getting supper. He had brought a pail with him and soon the appetizing
odors of boiling coffee and broiling moose sirloin filled the air.
Night had fallen between the mountain walls by the time Rod sat down to
his meal.