THE SURPRISE AT THE POST
From the moment that the adventurers turned their backs upon the Woonga
country Mukoki was in command. With the storm in their favor everything
else now depended upon the craft of the old pathfinder. There was
neither moon nor wind to guide them, and even Wabi felt that he was not
competent to strike a straight trail in a strange country and a night
storm. But Mukoki, still a savage in the ways of the wilderness, seemed
possessed of that mysterious sixth sense which is known as the sense of
orientation--that almost supernatural instinct which guides the carrier
pigeon as straight as a die to its home-cote hundreds of miles away.
Again and again during that thrilling night's flight Wabi or Rod would
ask the Indian where Wabinosh House lay, and he would point out its
direction to them without hesitation. And each time it seemed to the
city youth that he pointed a different way, and it proved to him how
easy it was to become hopelessly lost in the wilderness.
Not until midnight did they pause to rest. They had traveled slowly but
steadily and Wabi figured that they had covered fifteen miles. Five
miles behind them their trail was completely obliterated by the falling
snow. Morning would betray to the Woongas no sign of the direction taken
by the fugitives.
"They will believe that we have struck directly westward for the Post,"
said Wabi. "To-morrow night we'll be fifty miles apart."
During this stop a small fire was built behind a fallen log and the
hunters refreshed themselves with a pot of strong coffee and what little
remained of the rabbit and biscuits. The march was then resumed.
It seemed to Rod that they had climbed an interminable number of ridges
and had picked their way through an interminable number of swampy
bottoms between them, and he, even more than Mukoki, was relieved when
they struck the easier traveling of open plains. In fact, Mukoki seemed
scarcely to give a thought to his wound and Roderick was almost ready to
drop in his tracks by the time a halt was called an hour before dawn.
The old warrior was confident that they were now well out of danger and
a rousing camp-fire was built in the shelter of a thick growth of
spruce.
"Spruce partridge in mornin'," affirmed Mukoki. "Plenty here for
breakfast."
"How do you know?" asked Rod, whose hunger was ravenous.
"Fine thick spruce, all in shelter of dip," explained the Indian. "Birds
winter here."
Wabi had unpacked the furs, and the larger of these, including six lynx
and three especially fine wolf skins, he divided into three piles.
"They'll make mighty comfortable beds if you keep close enough to the
fire," he explained. "Get a few spruce boughs, Rod, and cover them over
with one of the wolf skins. The two lynx pelts will make the warmest
blankets you ever had."
Rod quickly availed himself of this idea, and within half an hour he was
sleeping soundly. Mukoki and Wabigoon, more inured to the hardships of
the wilderness, took only brief snatches of slumber, one or both
awakening now and then to replenish the fire. As soon as it was light
enough the two Indians went quietly out into the spruce with their guns,
and their shots a little later awakened Rod. When they returned they
brought three partridges with them.
"There are dozens of them among the spruce," said Wabi, "but just now we
do not want to shoot any oftener than is absolutely necessary. Have you
noticed our last night's trail?"
Rod rubbed his eyes, thus confessing that as yet he had not been out
from between his furs.
"Well, if you go out there in the open for a hundred yards you won't
find it," finished his comrade. "The snow has covered it completely."
Although they lacked everything but meat, this breakfast in the spruce
thicket was one of the happiest of the entire trip, and when the three
hunters were done each had eaten of his partridge until only the bones
were left. There was now little cause for fear, for it was still snowing
and their enemies were twenty-five miles to the north of them. This fact
did not deter the adventurers from securing an early start, however, and
they traveled southward through the storm until noon, when they built a
camp of spruce and made preparations to rest until the following day.
"We must be somewhere near the Kenogami trail," Wabi remarked to Mukoki.
"We may have passed it."
"No pass it," replied Mukoki. "She off there." He pointed to the south.
"You see the Kenogami trail is a sled trail leading from the little town
of Nipigon, on the railroad, to Kenogami House, which is a Hudson Bay
Post at the upper end of Long Lake," explained Wabi to his white
companion. "The factor of Kenogami is a great friend of ours and we have
visited back and forth often, but I've been over the Kenogami trail only
once. Mukoki has traveled it many times."
Several rabbits were killed before dinner. No other hunting was done
during the afternoon, most of which was passed in sleep by the exhausted
adventurers. When Rod awoke he found that it had stopped snowing and was
nearly dark.
Mukoki's wound was beginning to trouble him again, and it was decided
that at least a part of the next day should be passed in camp, and that
both Rod and Wabigoon should make an effort to kill some animal that
would furnish them with the proper kind of oil to dress it with, the fat
of almost any species of animal except mink or rabbit being valuable for
this purpose. With dawn the two started out, while Mukoki, much against
his will, was induced to remain in camp. A short distance away the
hunters separated, Rod striking to the eastward and Wabi into the south.
For an hour Roderick continued without seeing game, though there were
plenty of signs of deer and caribou about him. At last he determined to
strike for a ridge a mile to the south, from the top of which he was
more likely to get a shot than in the thick growth of the plains. He had
not traversed more than a half of the distance when much to his surprise
he came upon a well-beaten trail running slightly diagonally with his
own, almost due north. Two dog-teams had passed since yesterday's storm,
and on either side of the sleds were the snow-shoe trails of men. Rod
saw that there were three of these, and at least a dozen dogs in the two
teams. It at once occurred to him that this was the Kenogami trail, and
impelled by nothing more than curiosity he began to follow it.
Half a mile farther on he found where the party had stopped to cook a
meal. The remains of their camp-fire lay beside a huge log, which was
partly burned away, and about it were scattered bones and bits of bread.
But what most attracted Rod's attention were other tracks which joined
those of the three people on snow-shoes. He was sure that these tracks
had been made by women, for the footprints made by one of them were
unusually small. Close to the log he found a single impression in the
snow that caused his heart to give a sudden unexpected thump within him.
In this spot the snow had been packed by one of the snow-shoes, and in
this comparatively hard surface the footprint was clearly defined. It
had been made by a moccasin. Rod knew that. And the moccasin wore a
slight heel! He remembered, now, that thrilling day in the forest near
Wabinosh House when he had stopped to look at Minnetaki's footprints in
the soft earth through which she had been driven by her Woonga
abductors, and he remembered, too, that she was the only person at the
Post who wore heels on her moccasins. It was a queer coincidence! Could
Minnetaki have been here? Had she made that footprint in the snow?
Impossible, declared the young hunter's better sense. And yet his blood
ran a little faster as he touched the delicate impression with his bare
fingers. It reminded him of Minnetaki, anyway; her foot would have made
just such a trail, and he wondered if the girl who had stepped there was
as pretty as she.
He followed now a little faster than before, and ten minutes later he
came to where a dozen snow-shoe trails had come in from the north and
had joined the three. After meeting, the two parties had evidently
joined forces and had departed over the trail made by those who had
appeared from the direction of the Post.
"Friends from Kenogami House came down to meet them," mused Rod, and as
he turned back in the direction of the camp he formed a picture of that
meeting in the heart of the wilderness, of the glad embraces of husband
and wife, and the joy of the pretty girl with the tiny feet as she
kissed her father, and perhaps her big brother; for no girl could
possess feet just like Minnetaki's and not be pretty!
He found that Wabi had preceded him when he returned. The young Indian
had shot a small doe, and that noon witnessed a feast in camp. For his
lack of luck Rod had his story to tell of the people on the trail. The
passing of this party formed the chief topic of conversation during the
rest of the day, for after weeks of isolation in the wilderness even
this momentary nearness of living civilized men and women was a great
event to them. But there was one fact which Rod dwelt but slightly upon.
He did not emphasize the similarity of the pretty footprint and that
made by Minnetaki's moccasin, for he knew that a betrayal of his
knowledge and admiration of the Indian maiden's feet would furnish Wabi
with fun-making ammunition for a week. He did say, however, that the
footprint in the snow struck him as being just about the size that
Minnetaki would make.
All that day and night the hunters remained in camp, sleeping, eating
and taking care of Mukoki's wound, but the next morning saw them ready
for their homeward journey with the coming of dawn. They struck due
westward now, satisfied that they were well beyond the range of the
outlaw Woongas.
As the boys talked over their adventure on the long journey back toward
the Post, Wabi thought with regret of the moose head which he had left
buried in the "Indian ice-box," and even wished, for a moment, to go
home by the northern trail, despite the danger from the hostile Woongas,
in order to recover the valuable antlers. But Mukoki shook his head.
"Woonga make good fight. What for go again into wolf trap?"
And so they reluctantly gave up the notion of carrying the big head of
the bull moose back to the Post.
A little before noon of the second day they saw Lake Nipigon from the
top of a hill. Columbus when he first stepped upon the shore of his
newly discovered land was not a whit happier than Roderick Drew when
that joyous youth, running out upon the snow-covered ice, attempted to
turn a somersault with his snow-shoes on!
Just over there, thought Rod--just over there--a hundred miles or so, is
Minnetaki and the Post! Happy visions filled his mind all that afternoon
as they traveled across the foot of the lake. Three weeks more and he
would see his mother--and home. And Wabi was going with him! He seemed
tireless; his spirits were never exhausted; he laughed, whistled, even
attempted to sing. He wondered if Minnetaki would be very glad to see
him. He knew that she would be glad--but how glad?
Two days more were spent in circling the lower end of the lake. Then
their trail turned northward, and on the second evening after this, as
the cold red sun was sinking in all that heatless glory of the great
North's day-end, they came out upon a forest-clad ridge and looked down
upon the House of Wabinosh.
And as they looked--and as the burning disk of the sun, falling down and
down behind forest, mountain and plain, bade its last adieu to the land
of the wild, there came to them, strangely clear and beautiful, the
notes of a bugle.
And Wabi, listening, grew rigid with wonder. As the last notes died away
the cheers that had been close to his lips gave way to the question,
"What does that mean?"
"A bugle!" said Rod.
As he spoke there came to their ears the heavy, reverberating boom of a
big gun.
"If I'm not mistaken," he added, "that is a sunset salute. I didn't know
you had--soldiers--at the Post!"
"We haven't," replied the Indian youth. "By George, what do you suppose
it means?"
He hurried down the ridge, the others close behind him. Fifteen minutes
later they trailed out into the open near the Post. A strange change had
occurred since Rod and his companions had last seen Wabinosh House. In
the open half a dozen rude log shelters had been erected, and about
these were scores of soldiers in the uniform of his Majesty, the King of
England. Shouts of greeting died on the hunters' lips. They hastened to
the dwelling of the factor, and while Wabi rushed in to meet his mother
and father Rod cut across to the Company's store. He had often found
Minnetaki there. But his present hope was shattered, and after looking
in he turned back to the house. By the time he had reached the steps a
second time the princess mother, with Wabi close behind her, came out to
welcome him.
Wabi's face was flushed with excitement. His eyes sparkled.
"Rod, what do you think!" he exclaimed, after his mother had gone back
to see to the preparation of their supper. "The government has declared
war on the Woongas and has sent up a company of regulars to wipe 'em out!
They have been murdering and robbing as never before during the last two
months. The regulars start after them to-morrow!"
He was breathing hard and excitedly.
"Can't you stay--and join in the campaign?" he pleaded.
"I can't," replied Rod. "I can't, Wabi; I've got to go home. You know
that. And you're going with me. The regulars can get along without you.
Go back to Detroit with me--and get your mother to let Minnetaki go with
us."
"Not now, Rod," said the Indian youth, taking his friend's hand. "I
won't be able to go--now. Nor Minnetaki either. They have been having
such desperate times here that father has sent her away. He wanted
mother to go, but she wouldn't."
"Sent Minnetaki away?" gasped Rod.
"Yes. She started for Kenogami House four days ago in company with an
Indian woman and three guides. That was undoubtedly their trail you
found."
"And the footprint--"
"Was hers," laughed Wabi, putting an arm affectionately around his
chum's shoulders. "Won't you stay, Rod?"
"It is impossible."
He went to his old room, and until suppertime sat alone in silent
dejection. Two great disappointments had fallen upon him. Wabi could not
go home with him--and he had missed Minnetaki. The young girl had left a
note in her mother's care for him, and he read it again and again. She
had written it believing that she would return to Wabinosh House before
the hunters, but at the end she had added a paragraph in which she said
that if she did not do this Rod must make the Post a second visit very
soon, and bring his mother with him.
At supper the princess mother several times pressed Minnetaki's
invitation upon the young hunter. She read to him parts of certain
letters which she had received from Mrs. Drew during the winter, and Rod
was overjoyed to find that his mother was not only in good health, but
that she had given her promise to visit Wabinosh House the following
summer. Wabi broke all table etiquette by giving vent to a warlike whoop
of joy at this announcement, and once more Rod's spirits rose high above
his temporary disappointments.
That night the furs were appraised and purchased by the factor for his
Company, and Rod's share, including his third of the gold, was nearly
seven hundred dollars. The next morning the bi-monthly sled party, was
leaving for civilization, and he prepared to go with it, after writing a
long letter to Minnetaki, which was to be carried to her by the faithful
Mukoki. Most of that night Wabi and his friend sat up and talked, and
made plans. It was believed that the campaign against the Woongas would
be a short and decisive one. By spring all trouble would be over.
"And you'll come back as soon as you can?" pleaded Wabi for the
hundredth time. "You'll come back by the time the ice breaks up?"
"If I am alive!" pledged the city youth.
"And you'll bring your mother?"
"She has promised."
"And then--for the gold!"
"For the gold!"
Wabi held out his hand and the two gripped heartily.
"And Minnetaki will be here then--I swear it!" said the Indian youth,
laughing.
Rod blushed.
And that night alone he slipped quietly out into the still, white night;
and he looked, longingly, far into the southeast where he had found the
footprint in the snow; and he turned to the north, and the east, and the
west, and lastly to the south, and his eyes seemed to travel through the
distance of a thousand miles to where a home and a mother lay sleeping
in a great city. And as he turned back to the House of Wabinosh, where
all the lights were out, he spoke softly to himself:
"It's home--to-morrow!"
And then he added:
"But you bet I'll be back by the time the ice breaks up!"
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Wolf Hunters, by James Oliver Curwood