A THRILLING EXPERIENCE.
Frank was very happy now that the way had been so opportunely opened for
him to take part in the whole round of lumbering operations. He awaited
with impatience the coming of noon and the rush of hungry men to their
hearty dinner, because it was the signal for his release from chore-boy
work and promotion to the more honourable position of assistant-teamster.
The long afternoons out in the cold, crisp air, amid the thud of
well-aimed axes, the crash of falling trees, the shouts of busy men, and
all the other noisy incidents of the war they were waging against the
innocent, defenceless forest, were precisely what his heart had craved so
long, and he felt clearer than ever in his mind that lumbering was the
life for him.
After he had been a week at his new employment, Con Murphy, the big
teamster to whom he had been assigned by the foreman, with the injunction
to "be easy on the lad, and give him plenty of time to get handy," was
heard to say in public,--
"Faith, an' he's a broth of a boy, I can tell you; and I wouldn't give
him for half-a-dozen of those _parlez-vous_ Frenchies like the chap whose
place he took--indade that I wouldn't."
Which, coming to Damase's ears, added further fuel to the fire of
jealousy and hate that was burning within this half-savage creature's
breast. So fierce indeed were Damase's feelings that he could not keep
them concealed, and more than one of the shantymen took occasion to drop
a word of warning into Frank's ear about him.
"You'd better keep a sharp eye on that chap Damase, Frank," they would
say. "He's an ugly customer, and he seems to have got it in for you."
Frank, on his part, was by no means disposed to laugh at or neglect these
kindly warnings. Indeed, he fully intended repeating them to Johnston at
the first opportunity. But the days slipped by without a favourable
chance presenting itself, and Damase's wild thirst for the revenge which
he thought was merited came perilously near a dreadful satisfaction.
February had come, and supplies at the shanty were running low, so that
Foreman Johnston deemed it necessary to pay a visit to the depot to see
about having a fresh stock sent out. The first that Frank knew of his
intention was the night before he started. He had gone into the foreman's
little room as usual to read his Bible and pray, and having finished, was
about to slip quietly out, Johnston having apparently been quite
unobservant of his presence, when he was asked,--
"How would you like to go over to the depot with me to-morrow?"
How would he like! Such a question to ask of a boy, when it meant a
twenty-five miles' drive and a whole day's holiday after months of steady
work at the camp!
"I should be delighted, sir," replied Frank, as promptly as he could get
the words out.
"Very well, then; you can come along with me. We'll start right after
breakfast. Baptiste will have to look after himself for one day," said
the foreman. And with a fervent "Thank you, sir," Frank went off, his
face wreathed with smiles and his heart throbbing with joy at the
prospect before him.
So eager was he that it did not need Johnston's shout of "Turn out, lads,
turn out!" to waken him next morning, for he was wide awake already, and
he tumbled into his clothes with quite unusual alacrity. So soon as
breakfast was over, the foreman had one of the best horses in the stable
harnessed to his "jumper," as the low, strong, comfortable wooden sleigh
that is alone able to cope with the rough forest roads is called;
abundance of thick warm buffalo-robes were provided; and then he and
Frank tucked themselves in tightly, and they set out on their long drive
to the depot.
The mercury stood at twenty degrees below zero when they started, but
they did not mind that. Not a breath of wind stirred the clear cold air.
The sun soon rose into the blue vault above them, and shone down upon
the vast expanse of snow about them with a vigour that made their eyes
blink. The horse was a fine animal, and, having been off duty for a few
days previous, was full of speed and spirit, and they glided over the
well-beaten portion of the road at a dashing pace. But when they came to
the part over which there had been little travel all winter long the
going was too heavy for much speed, and often the horse could not do more
than walk.
This seemed to Frank just the opportunity for which he had been waiting,
to tell the foreman about Damase and his threats of revenge. At first
Johnston was disposed to make light of the matter, but when Frank told
him what he had himself observed, as well as what had been reported to
him by the others, the foreman was sufficiently impressed to say,--
"The rascal wants some looking after, that's clear. He's a worthless
fellow, anyway, and I'm mighty sorry I ever let him into my gang. I think
the best thing will be to drop him as soon as I get back, or he may make
some trouble for us. I'm glad you told me this, Frank. I won't forget
it."
At the depot they found Alec Stewart, just returned from a tour of
inspection of the different camps, and full of hearty welcome. He was
very glad to see Frank.
"Ah ha, my boy!" he cried, slapping him vigorously on the back, "I
needn't ask you how you are. Your looks answer for you. Why, you must
weigh ten pounds more than when I last saw you. Well, what do you think
of lumbering now, and how does Mr. Johnston treat you? They tell me,"
looking at the foreman with a sly smile, "that he's a mighty stiff boss.
Is that the way you find him?"
Frank was ready enough to answer all his friend's questions, and to
assure him that the foreman treated him like a kind father, and that he
himself was fonder of lumbering than ever. Both he and Johnston had
famous appetites for the bountiful dinner that was soon spread before
them, and the resources of the depot permitting of a much more extensive
bill of fare than was possible at the shanty, he felt in duty bound to
apologize for the avidity with which he attacked the juicy roast of beef,
the pearly potatoes, the toothsome pudding, and the other dainties that,
after months of pork and beans, tasted like ambrosia.
The superintendent and the foreman had much to say to one another which
did not concern Frank, and so while they talked business he roamed about
the place, enjoying the freedom from work, and chatting with the men at
the depot, telling them some of his experiences and being told some of
theirs in return. Happening to mention Damase Deschenaux, one of the
men at once exclaimed,--
"That's a first-class scoundrel! It beats me to understand why Johnston
has him in his gang. He's sure to raise trouble wherever he goes."
Frank felt tempted to tell how Damase had "raised trouble" with him, but
thought he would better not, and the talk soon turned in another
direction.
The afternoon was waning before Johnston prepared to start on the return
journey, and Mr. Stewart tried hard to persuade him to stay for the
night--an invitation that Frank devoutly hoped would be accepted. But the
big foreman would not hear of it.
"No, no," said be in his decided way, "I must get back to the shanty.
There's been only half a day's work done to-day, I'll warrant you,
because I wasn't on hand to keep the beggars at it. Why, they'll lie
abed till mid-day to-morrow if I'm not there to rouse them out of their
bunks."
Whatever Johnston said he stuck to, so there was no use in argument, and
shortly after four o'clock he and Frank tucked themselves snugly into the
jumper again and drove away from the depot, Stewart shouting after
them,--
"If you change your mind after you've gone a couple of miles, don't feel
delicate about coming back. I won't laugh at you."
Johnston's only answer was a grim smile and a crack of the whip over the
horse's hind-quarters that sent him off at full gallop, the snow flying
in clouds from his plunging feet into the faces of his passengers.
The hours crept by as the sleigh made its slow way over the heavy ground,
and Frank, as might be expected after the big dinner he had eaten, began
to feel very sleepy. There was no reason why he should not yield to the
seductive influence of the drowsy god, so, sinking down low into the seat
and drawing the buffalo-robe up over his head, he soon was lost to sight
and sense. While he slept the night fell, and they were still many miles
from home. The cold was great, but not a breath of wind stirred the
intense stillness. The stars shone out like flashing diamonds set in
lapis-lazuli. Silence reigned supreme, save as it was intruded upon by
the heavy breathing of the frost-flaked horse and the crunching of the
runners through the crisp snow.
Johnston felt glad when they breasted the hill on the other side of which
was Deep Gully, crossed by a rude corduroy bridge; for that bridge was
just five miles from the camp, and another hour, at the farthest, would
bring them to the end of their journey.
When the top of the hill was reached, the foreman gathered up the reins,
called upon the horse to quicken his pace, and away they went down the
slope at a tearing gallop.
Deep Gully well deserved the name that had been given it when the road
was made. A turbulent torrent among the hills had in the course of time
eaten a way for itself, which, although very narrow, made up for its lack
of breadth by a great degree of depth. It was a rather picturesque place
in summer time, when abundant foliage softened its steep sides; but in
winter, when it seemed more like a crevasse in a glacier than anything
else, there was no charm about it. The bridge that crossed it was a very
simple affair, consisting merely of two long stringers laid six feet
apart, and covered with flattened timbers.
Upon this slight structure the jumper descended with a bump that woke
Frank from his pleasant nap, and, putting aside the buffalo-robe, he sat
up in the sleigh to gather his wits. It was well he did, for if ever he
needed them it was at that moment. Almost simultaneous with the thud of
the horse's feet upon the bridge there came a crash, a sound of rending
timbers, the bridge quivered like a ship struck by a mighty billow, and
the next instant dropped into the chasm below, bearing with it a man, and
boy, and horse, and sleigh!
Full thirty feet they fell; the bridge, which had given way at one end
only, hurling them from it so that they landed at the bottom of Deep
Gully in a confused heap, yet happily free from entanglement with its
timbers. So soon as he felt himself falling Frank threw aside the robes
and made ready to spring; but Johnston instinctively held on to the
reins, with the result that, being suddenly dragged forward by the
frantic plunging of the terrified animal, he received a kick in the
forehead that rendered him insensible, and would have dashed his brains
out but for the thick fur cap he wore, while the jumper, turning over
upon him, wrenched his leg so as to render him completely helpless.
Frank was more fortunate. His timely spring, aided by the impetus of
their descent, carried him clear of the horse and sleigh, and sent him
headlong into a deep drift that filled a hollow at the gully's bottom.
The snow-bank opened its arms to receive him, and buried him to the hips.
The first shock completely deprived him of breath, and almost of his
senses too. But beyond that he received no injury, and was soon
struggling with all his might to free himself from the snow that held him
captive. This proved to be no easy task. He was pretty firmly embedded,
and at first it seemed as though his efforts at release only made his
position worse.
"This is a fine fix to be in!" said he to himself. "Buried in a
snow-drift; and dear knows what's happened to Mr. Johnston."
He had been hoping that the foreman would come to his assistance, but
getting no reply to his shouts, he began to fear lest his companion might
be unable to render any help. Perhaps, indeed, he might be dead! The
thought roused him to still greater exertions, and at last by a heroic
effort he succeeded in turning a kind of somersault in his cold prison,
which had the happy result of putting his head where his heels had been.
To scramble out altogether was then an easy job, and in another instant
he was beside the sleigh.
His first thought was that his worst fears were realized. Certainly the
sight was one that might have filled a stouter heart with chill alarm.
The horse had fallen into a deep drift, which covered him to the
shoulders, and rendered him utterly helpless, entangled as he was with
the harness and the over-turned jumper. He had evidently, like Frank,
been struggling violently to free himself, but finding it useless, had
for a time ceased his efforts, and stood wild-eyed and panting, the
picture of animal terror. On seeing Frank he made another frantic plunge
or two, looking at the boy with an expression of agonized appeal, as
though he would say,--
"Oh, help me out of this dreadful place!"
And glad would Frank have been to respond to the best of his ability. But
the poor horse could not be considered first. Half under the sleigh, half
buried in the snow, lay the big foreman, to all appearance dead, the
blood flowing freely from an ugly gash in his forehead, where the fur cap
had failed to protect him entirely from the horse's hoof.
Frank sprang to his side, and with a tremendous effort turned him over
upon his back, and getting out his handkerchief, wiped the blood away
from his face. As he did so, the first awful thought of death gave way to
a feeling of hope. White and still as Johnston lay, his face was warm,
and he was surely breathing a little. Seizing a handful of snow, Frank
pressed it to the foreman's forehead, and cried to him as though he were
asleep,--
"Mr. Johnston, Mr. Johnston! What's the matter with you? Tell me, won't
you?"
For some minutes there was no sign of response. Then the injured man
stirred, gave a deep sigh followed by a groan, opened his eyes with a
look of dazed bewilderment, and put his hand up to his head, which was
evidently giving him intense pain.
"Oh, Mr. Johnston, I'm so glad! I was afraid you were dead!" exclaimed
Frank. "Can't I help you to get up?"
Turning upon his shoulder, the foreman made an effort to raise himself,
but at once sank back with a groan.
"I'm sore hurt, my lad," he said; "I can't stir. You'll have to get
help."
And so great was his suffering that he well nigh lost consciousness
again.
Frank tried his best to lift him away from the sleigh, but found the task
altogether beyond his young strength in that deep snow, and had to give
it up as hopeless. Certainly he was in a most trying situation for a mere
boy--fully five miles from the shanty, with an almost untravelled road
between that must be traversed by him alone, while the injured man would
have to lie helpless in the snow until his return. Little wonder if he
felt in sore perplexity as to what should be done, and how he should act
under the circumstances.