A STRANGE STEED
As you have doubtless guessed, the camp discovered by Joe and Jennings
was that made by Curlie. They had been on his trail and not on the trail
of some stranger. But had they attempted to follow his trail from that
last clump of willows where the reindeer had been tied they would have
become more and more bewildered, and had they followed that trail all
night they would have caught no glimpse of their lost companion.
That you may understand why all this is true, I must tell you what
happened to Curlie after he began to approach the clump of willows from
which rose the thin column of white vapor.
“Glad I’ve got my rifle,” he told himself, as he moved in close to the
willows. “You can never tell what you’re coming up against.”
Walking on tiptoes, he approached the end of the willow clump farthest
from the column of white vapor.
“Just slip in through here and have the first look,” he whispered.
Pushing aside the bushes, he disappeared behind the dead leaves. There
was not a breath of wind. This made it hard. It was impossible to avoid
rustling the leaves. Since there was no wind to stir up other leaves, he
felt sure that his presence must be detected.
His breath came quick as he paused to listen. No sound came to him. He
moved on a few paces, then suddenly he paused. Had he caught a sound?
Yes, there it was, a rustling of the leaves, of branches switching
together.
“What’s that for?” he whispered, crouching low. “May be a signal.”
For some time he did not move. When at length he ventured to go forward,
it was on hands and knees. Down low there were no leaves. Traveling in
this manner he made no sound.
Only once his foot touched his rifle, causing a rattling sound.
Stopping dead still, he paused with wildly beating heart to listen.
“What a fool I am,” he told himself at last, “creeping up on some simple
innocent people probably. But when a fellow is a hunter, he gets the
habit of wanting to have the first look.”
A moment later he did get the “first look.” And at that instant he leaped
to his feet and let out a wild shout of laughter.
The only creature to be seen in the bushes was a milk-white reindeer.
This deer was hitched to a short, flat sled, such as reindeer herders
use. The sled was overturned and had tangled with the willows. Because of
this and because of the three inch wide rawhide strap which held him to
the sled, the reindeer was unable to move from the spot.
The explanation of the column of vapor was not far to seek. It was merely
the deer’s breath rising straight up from the willows. Since it was
intensely cold the moisture from his breath froze at once and since there
was not a breath of air stirring it could be seen mounting in air for
many feet.
“Wouldn’t do to get too close to an enemy on such a day,” he told
himself; “he’d spot you in an instant.”
This knowledge was destined to prove of great value to him in the days
that were to come.
“Well, now,” he said, addressing the deer, “I’ve got you. Question is,
what am I going to do with you. You’re evidently a bad actor; must have
run away from your master. And I never drove a reindeer in my life.”
He paused in thought. The reindeer would be of service to him if he could
but learn to drive him. He needed no food save that which the tundra
supplied, the reindeer moss under the snow. To ride on the broad-bottomed
sled in his search for his companions would be far preferable to walking;
besides, it meant more speed.
“Huh!” he grunted, “try anything once. So, you old lost ship on the
Arctic desert, let’s turn you over and see what you’ve got on you.”
Grasping the sled he disentangled it enough to allow him to turn it over.
The sled carried a light load, all of which was covered with a piece of
canvas securely bound on by a rawhide rope. That the reindeer had
traveled some distance was testified to by the fact that many holes had
been torn in the canvas as the sled traveled upside-down.
“Let’s see what treasure is hidden here,” he said.
His fingers trembled from curiosity as he untied the rope.
To his joy he found a very good sleeping-bag of deerskin, a pair of
deerskin mittens, three large frozen fish and a camp-kit consisting of
knives, spoons, cups, a tinplate, matches, reindeer sinew for thread and
various other odds and ends beneath the canvas.
“For all these,” Curlie said, “old reindeer, I thank you. They’ll come in
handy when we take the trail.”
He proceeded to replace all the articles and to rebind the sled.
Hardly had this been accomplished than the reindeer, who had stood all
this time with head down like a tired workhorse, suddenly sprang into
action. With a wild snort he cleared with one leap a low willow bush and
dragging the sled after him, sprang away at a terrific speed.
Curlie had barely time to leap, stomach-down, upon the sled and to grasp
the rawhide rope with both hands. He was determined not to be left
behind.
Scarcely realizing that his most priceless possession, his rifle, was not
on the sled, he still clung there while he was whirled along at a
terrific gait.
Rocking like a rowboat in a storm the sled took the ridges of snow as a
boat would the waves.
Expecting at every moment to see the sled go over and to be forced to
loose his hold, Curlie lay prepared for any emergency.
But the short, broad, low-runnered sled, built for just such an emergency
as this, did not turn turtle. So, across one ridge and down it they
raced, along the side of a low, receding slope, then across a valley they
sped. Skirting a willow clump, they crossed a narrow stream to climb a
hill again.
“Ought to let him rip and go back after my rifle,” the boy told himself,
but, tired as he was, hungry and sleepy too, he was still game. This
beast had challenged his power of wits and endurance; he would stick to
the end.
“Wonder how in time you go about it to stop ’em?”
He tried shouting, but this only served to frighten the deer into greater
speed, so again he was silent.
They shot down a hill. There was danger that the sled would overtake the
deer and that they would be tumbled into a heap. To prevent this he began
using his foot as a brake. It worked; that gave him an idea. “Have to
tire him out,” he told himself. “Keep the brake on all the time. That’ll
help.”
Digging his heel in as hard as he could, he created a great deal of
friction which in time began to tell upon the reindeer. He traveled with
his mouth open, and his breath began to come in hoarse pants.
“I’ll get you!” Curlie triumphed. “Sorry to do it, old boy, but it seems
to be the only way we can come to terms.”
Slowly and yet more slowly they traveled. The reindeer had dropped almost
to a walk when, with a sudden spurt, he did a peculiar thing. They were
near a clump of willows. Charging straight at these, like an ostrich
hiding his head in the sand, he buried himself in the rustling leaves.
“Well!” said Curlie, rising stiffly, “that’s that!
“And now,” he said, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “I think I’ll just tie you
up here and leave you to browse on these tender willow leaves while I
have a bit of frozen fish. After that I’ll drag the sleeping-bag into the
brush for forty winks.”
A half hour later two thin columns of vapor rose from the willows, one
from the reindeer and one from Curlie.
“Wonder if anyone will see them?” Curlie puzzled before he fell asleep.
“Well, if they do, they do. I can’t help it and I’m too dead for sleep to
care.”
Curlie’s runaway reindeer had carried him far. Hardly had he fallen
asleep when two dog teams appeared over the crest of the ridge. This
ridge, a mile away, looked down upon the willows from which the breath of
Curlie and the reindeer arose.
The foremost of the two powerful dog teams was driven by a strongly built
man who ran beside the sled. Upon the other sled rode a second
individual.
“Whoa!” The weary dogs halted.
“Some one camped down there.” The man spoke more to himself than to his
companion. “Might mean some food.” He looked to the loading of his rifle.
“Might mean trouble.” So he stood there, apparently undecided, while the
columns of vapor continued to rise from the willows.
Had Curlie Carson possessed a guardian spirit he would beyond doubt have
whispered in his ear:
“Curlie! Curlie Carson! Awake! You are in danger!”
But since he had none, he slept peacefully on.