From the river tilt, as they called it, where their camp was pitched,
the Big Hill trail led to the northwest for fifteen miles, then
fifteen miles to the westward, where it took a sharp turn to the
northward, in which direction it continued for nearly thirty miles,
then again swung to the westward for fifteen miles, where it
terminated on the shores of a small lake. This was the trail
previously hunted by Bob.
Douglas Campbell had visited the Big Hill trail the preceding winter,
but had not remained to hunt, and it had therefore been unoccupied
during the winter. For the season at hand it had been transferred to
Dick Blake, while Dick's own trail, farther down the river, was to
remain untenanted, and the animals given an opportunity to increase.
Directly below the Big Hill trail and adjoining it was Bill Campbell's
trail.
Bob had been informed by Mountaineer Indians who camped during a
portion of each summer near the Eskimo Bay post, that by following a
stream flowing into the river a short distance above the river tilt of
the Big Hill trail, and taking a west-northwesterly direction, he
would find a series of lakes running almost parallel with the river,
and lying between the river and the Big Hill trail.
Tradition said that this stream and series of lakes had at one time
been an Indian portage route around the Great Falls of the Grand
River, but for many years it had been generally avoided by Indians
because of its proximity to the falls, which were supposed to be the
abode of evil spirits, a superstition doubtless arising from the fact
that Indian canoes may have been caught in the current above the falls
and carried to destruction below; and because of the impression and
awful aspect of the falls themselves, whose thunderous roar may be
heard for many miles, echoing through the solitudes.
From the fact that this region had but rarely been traversed, and had
certainly not been hunted by Indians for many generations, and that
the animals within the considerable territory which it embraced had
therefore been permitted to increase undisturbed by man, Bob argued
that it must of necessity prove a rich trapping ground for the first
who ventured to invade it. It was here, then, that he purposed
establishing his first trapping trail.
The first step to be taken was to make a survey of the region, and
with a quantity of steel traps, a limited supply of provisions, and
Shad's light tent, the two young adventurers set forward in the canoe
upon their scouting journey within the hour after Sishetakushin and
Mookoomahn had left them.
A long portage and the ascent of a stream for several miles carried
them that evening to the first of the series of lakes, where Bob's
trained eye soon discovered unquestionable signs of an abundance of
fur-bearing animals, sustaining his hope that the ground would be
found virgin and profitable territory.
Their camp was pitched by the lake shore. At their back lay the dark
forest, before them spread the shimmering lake, and to the westward a
high hill lifted its barren peak of weather-beaten, storm-scoured
rocks.
The atmosphere became cool as evening approached, and when supper was
disposed of the fire was renewed, and, weary with their day's work,
they reclined before its genial blaze to watch the sun go down in an
effulgence of glory and colour.
Neither spoke until the colours were well-nigh faded, and the first
stars twinkled faintly above.
"The most glorious sunset I ever beheld," remarked Shad finally,
breaking the silence.
"'Twere fine!" admitted Bob. "We sees un often in here, this time o'
year. They makes me think o' what the Bible says th' holy place in th'
temple was t' be like--'A veil o' blue an' purple an' scarlet.' I'm
wonderin', now, if th' Lard weren't makin' these sunsets just t' show
what th' holy place be like, an' t' keep us from forgettin' un. I'm
wonderin' if 'tisn't a bit o' th' holy place in th' temple o' Heaven,
th' Lard's showin' us in them sunsets."
"I don't know," said Shad; "I don't remember it. I must confess I
never read my Bible very much."
"I'll read un to you from my Bible when day comes," promised Bob.
Presently the aurora borealis flashed up upon the sky with the effect
of a thousand powerful searchlights, the long fingers of light rising
from the northern horizon to the zenith and flashing from east to west
in a maze of every-changing colour--now white--now red--now yellow. It
was a scene not only beautiful, but weird and awe-inspiring.
"I'm thinkin', now, o' th' northern lights," remarked Bob, when they
had watched them for some time, "that they's flashes o' light from
heaven. I'm thinkin' th' Lard sends un t' give us promise o' th'
glories we'll have when we dies."
"That is a cheerful thought, at least," admitted Shad.
"Yes, 'tis cheerin'. Leastways, they always cheers me when I see un,"
declared Bob.
"Whenever I see them after this," said Shad, "I shall remember your
suggestion--that they are the reflected glory of heaven, sent to
inspire the dwellers upon earth."
As they arose to retire to their tent the dead silence of the
wilderness was startled by the uncanny cry of a loon. Bob stood for a
moment and listened. Then, turning to the tent, he remarked:
"'Tis a bad sign, when a loon laughs at night like that!"
"In what way?" asked Shad.
"'Tis said t' be a warnin' o' danger an' trouble."
In a series of portages from lake to lake they passed the next day
through six lakes of varying size, caching traps now and again at
convenient points for future use.
All the afternoon a low, rumbling sound was to be heard. Time and
again they halted to listen. It was a changeless, sullen, muffled
roar. Finally, when they reached the sixth lake, later in the
afternoon, their curiosity got the better of them and they climbed a
barren eminence to investigate. As they neared the summit the roar
increased in volume, and when they reached the top and looked to the
southward they beheld a cloud of vapour.
"'Tis th' Great Falls o' th' Injuns!" exclaimed Bob.
"Where the evil spirits dwell?" asked Shad.
"Aye, where th' evil spirits dwell." Around them lay a rugged scene of
sub-Arctic grandeur. To the eastward the country was dotted with a
network of small lakes similar to those through which they had been
travelling, while to the northward a much larger lake appeared. The
shores of these lakes supported a forest of black spruce, but every
rise of ground was destitute of other growth than the gray caribou
lichen which everywhere carpets the Labrador forest.
"There's a grand chance t' lay th' trails," said Bob. "We'll be makin'
our trails along th' s'uth'ard lakes an' up t' that big lake, an' Ed's
among th' lakes t' th' n'uth'ard."
"I'd like to see those falls," suggested Shad. "Can't we take the
morning off to visit them?"
"An' you wants," agreed Bob. "We'll be buildin' a tilt down where th'
canoe is, an' another on th' first lake, an' I'm thinkin' another on
th' big lake above."
Accordingly the following morning, leaving their camp pitched and
their canoe on the lake shore, they turned southward upon an exploring
expedition. Their tramp carried them across a series of ridges and
bogs and finally into a forest. With every step the roar increased,
and at length they could plainly feel the earth tremble beneath their
feet.
Suddenly they emerged from the forest to behold a scene of wild and
sublime grandeur. They stood at the very brink of a mighty chasm. From
far above them the river rushed down, a stupendous torrent of
foam-crested billows and swirling whirlpools, impatient to make its
leap into the depths at their feet where it was presently to be
swallowed up in a bank of mist, which shimmered beneath the two
adventurers like a giant opal lighted by all the colours of the
rainbow. Below the rainbow-coloured mist the river again appeared,
rushing in fearful power past beetling, frowning cliffs, which
directly hid it from view. The very rocks upon which they stood
trembled, and a reverberating roar rose from the canyon at their feet,
so loud that conversation was well-nigh impossible.
[Footnote: These are the Grand Falls of Labrador. The river falls
three hundred and sixteen feet with a single leap.]
For half an hour they stood enthralled by the scene, then they turned
up the river, walking along its bank.
"'Tis an awful place down there," remarked Bob. "I'm not wonderin',
now, th' Injuns thinks 'tis possessed by evil spirits."
"It is the most sublime scene I ever beheld," declared Shad. "One
glimpse of it is worth all the trouble we've had in getting here."
The river gradually widened, but always with a strong current, even
above the heavy white rapids, until some five miles above the falls it
expanded into a large island-dotted lake. At the extreme lower end of
this lake the old Indian portage trail was discovered, and following
it the explorers late in the day reached their camp.
The following weeks were devoted to the erection of tilts--small log
cabins to be used in winter as shelter. One was established well up
the shores of the large lake expansion above the falls, another upon
the shores of the lake from which they had made their excursion to the
falls, and still another upon the first lake above the river tilt of
the Big Hill trail, while to the northward near other lakes four other
tilts were erected, at convenient distances apart, for Ed's use.
These tilts were all constructed upon the same general plan. They were
on an average about eight by ten feet in size, with a slightly sloping
roof so low in the rear Bob could scarcely stand erect.
The chinks between the logs were filled with caribou moss. The roof
logs were covered with boughs, over which was spread first a blanket
of moss and then a coating of six inches of earth. Each was provided
with a doorway about four feet in height and two and a half feet wide,
which was fitted with a door constructed of lashed saplings covered
with bark.
Within, a platform of flat stones was arranged to accommodate the
sheet-iron stove, with a stove-pipe hole through the roof directly
over it.
Long, springy saplings were utilised in erecting bunks at the rear and
along the side of the tilt opposite the stove. These were later to be
covered with spruce boughs, and would serve both as beds and seats,
and were elevated some eighteen inches above the earth floor.
"They'll be warm an' snug," said Bob. "When frosty weather an' winter
comes th' snow soon banks un up an' covers un up, roof and all, and
makes un good an' tight."
"But how do you get air enough to breathe?" asked Shad.
"Th' stove-pipe hole is made plenty big," explained Bob, "an' that
lets th' bad air out, an' we mostly has a snow tunnel leadin' t' th'
door so th' wind won't strike in, an' leavin' th' door off, th' good
air comes in."
Nearly four weeks had been consumed in this work, and without waiting
for the reappearance of their friends they began at once the
distribution of supplies among the tilts, for September was nearly
spent and winter would be upon them by mid-October, when ice in the
lakes would render the canoe useless.
Therefore, with all haste they proceeded with their first canoe-load
of provisions to the farthest tilt, built upon the shores of the lake
expansion above the falls.
It was mid-forenoon of a beautiful, transparent September day when
they reached the tilt. The supplies were quickly stowed beneath the
bunks, the tent stove erected, and, halting only long enough to make
tea, they launched their canoe for the return.
"We'll be makin' th' river tilt before we sleeps," said Bob. "They's a
moon, an' we'll finish by moonlight, an' to-morrow we'll be gettin'
out with th' next load. If we travels fast we can make th' river tilt
before midnight, whatever!"
The portage trail left the river at a point some ten miles below the
tilt, and as previously stated, at the lower end of the lake, where
the current began to gather strength for its final tumultuous rush
toward the falls.
They had paddled the distance in two hours, and were congratulating
themselves upon their good progress as they turned the canoe toward
the portage landing, when suddenly they were startled by a burst of
wild, bloodcurdling whoops, and a half-dozen strange Indians, guns
levelled, rose upon the shore.
"Mingens!" exclaimed Bob.
A warning in the Indian tongue was shouted at them that they must not
attempt to land. A shot was fired over their heads to emphasise the
fact that the savages were in earnest, and with no alternative, and
taken wholly by surprise, Shad at the steersman's paddle astern, swung
the canoe out into the stream, still continuing down the river.
"Upstream! Upstream! Turn about!" shouted Bob.
In the excitement and confusion that followed the first few moments
after the attack, much valuable time had been lost in ineffectual
manoeuvres, and when the canoe was finally turned about they were far
out into the stream, and it was found that the insidious current had
caught them. Bob was the first to recognise the danger, and in a
sharp, tense voice he commanded:
"Quick! Work for your life! If th' rapid gets us, 'twill carry us over
th' falls!"
Then they paddled--paddled as none had ever paddled before. But
already the powerful current had them in its grip. Slowly--slowly--but
with increasing speed they were drifting toward the awful cataract.
They would have braved the Indians now, and attempted a landing, but
from a point directly below the portage trail, and extending to the
white water of the heavy rapids the river bank rose in a perpendicular
rampart of smooth-scoured rock, a full ten feet in height, offering no
possible foothold.
For a little while they hoped, as they worked like madmen. Then the
full import of their position dawned upon them--that they were
hopelessly drifting toward the brink of the awful cataract.
Beads of cold perspiration broke out upon their foreheads. A sickening
numbness came into their hearts, and as in a dream they heard the
derisive, exultant yells of the savages upon the shore.