ON THE RIDGES
Late in the afternoon Willet went to sleep and Robert and Tayoga
watched, although, as the hunter had done, they depended more upon
ear than eye. They too heard now and then the faint report of distant
shots from the hunt, and Robert's heart beat very fast, but, if the
young Onondaga felt emotion, he did not show it. At twilight, they
ate a frugal supper, and when the night had fully come they rose and
walked about a little to make their stiffened muscles elastic again.
"The hunters have all gone back to the camp now," said Tayoga, "since
it is not easy to pursue the game by dusk, and we need not keep so
close, like a bear in its den."
"And the danger of our being seen is reduced to almost nothing," said
Robert.
"It is so, Dagaeoga, but we will have another fight to make. We must
strive to keep ourselves from freezing. It turns very cold on the
mountains! The wind is now blowing from the north, and do you not feel
a keener edge to it?"
"I do," replied Robert, sensitive of body as well as mind, and he
shivered as he spoke. "It's a most unfortunate change for us. But now
that I think of it we've got to expect it up among the high mountains
toward Canada. Shall we light another fire?"
"We'll talk of that later with the Great Bear when he comes out of his
sleep. But it fast grows colder and colder, Dagaeoga!"
Weather was an enormous factor in the lives of the borderers.
Wilderness storms and bitter cold often defeated their best plans, and
shelterless men, they were in a continual struggle against them. And
here in the far north, among the high peaks and ridges, there was much
to be feared, even with official winter yet several weeks away.
Robert began to rub his cold hands, and, unfolding his blanket, he
wrapped it about his body, drawing it well up over his neck and ears.
Tayoga imitated him and Willet, who was soon awakened by the cold
blast, protected himself in a similar manner.
"What does the Great Bear think?" asked the Onondaga.
The hunter, with his face to the wind, meditated a few moments before
replying.
"I was testing that current of air on my face and eyes," he said,
"and, speaking the truth, Tayoga, I don't like it. The wind seemed to
grow colder as I waited to answer you. Listen to the leaves falling
before it! Their rustle tells of a bitter night."
"And while we freeze in it," said Robert, whose imagination was
already in full play, "the French and Indians build as many and big
fires as they please, and cook before them the juicy game they killed
today."
The hunter was again very thoughtful.
"It looks as if we would have to kindle a fire," he said, "and
tomorrow we shall have to hunt bear or deer for ourselves, because we
have food enough left for only one more meal."
"The face of Areskoui is turned from us," said Tayoga. "We have done
something to anger him, or we have failed to do what he wished, and
now he sends upon us a hard trial to test us and purify us! A great
storm with fierce cold comes!"
The wind rose suddenly, and it began to make a sinister hissing among
all the passes and gorges. Robert felt something damp upon his face,
and he brushed away a melting flake of snow. But another and another
took its place and the air was soon filled with white. And the flakes
were most aggressive. Driven by the storm they whipped the cheeks
and eyes of the three, and sought to insert themselves, often with
success, under their collars, even under the edges of the protecting
blankets, and down their backs. Robert, despite himself, shivered
violently and even the hunter was forced to walk vigorously back and
forth in the effort to keep warm. It was evident that the Onondaga had
told the truth, and that the face of Areskoui was in very fact turned
from them.
Robert awaited the word, looking now and then at Willet, but the
hunter hung on for a long time. The leaves fell in showers before the
storm, making a faint rustling like the last sigh of the departing,
and the snow, driven with so much force, stung his face like hail when
it struck. He was anxious for a fire, and its vital heat, but he was
too proud to speak. He would endure without complaint as much as his
comrades, and he knew that Tayoga, like himself, would wait for the
older man to speak.
But he could not keep, meanwhile, from thinking of the French and
Indians beside their vast heaps of glowing coals, fed and warmed to
their hearts' content, while the three lay in the dark and bitter cold
of the wilderness. An hour dragged by, then two, then three, but the
storm showed no sign of abating. The sinister screaming of the wind
did not cease and the snow accumulated upon their bodies. At last
Willet said:
"We must do it."
"We have no other choice," said Tayoga. "We have waited as long as we
could to see if Areskoui would turn a favoring face upon us, but his
anger holds. It will not avail, if in our endeavor to escape the
tomahawk of Tandakora, we freeze to death."
The fire decided upon, they took all risks and went about the task
with eagerness. Ordinary men could not have lighted it under such
circumstances, but the three had uncommon skill upon which to draw.
They took the bark from dead wood, and shaved off many splinters,
building up a little heap in the lee of a cliff, which they sheltered
on the windward side with their bodies. Then Willet, working a long
time with his flint and steel, set to it the sparks that grew into a
blaze.
Robert did not stop with the fire. Noticing the vast amount of dead
wood lying about, as was often the case in the wilderness, he dragged
up many boughs and began to build a wall on the exposed side of the
flames. Willet and Tayoga approving of the idea soon helped him, and
three pairs of willing hands quickly raised the barrier of trunks and
brush to a height of at least a yard.
"A happy idea of yours, Robert," said the hunter. "Now we achieve two
ends at once. Our wall hides the glow of the fire and at the same time
protects us in large measure from the snow and wind."
"I have bright thoughts now and then," said Robert, whose spirits had
returned in full tide. "You needn't believe you and Tayoga have all
of 'em. I don't believe either of you would have ever thought of this
fine wooden wall. In truth, Dave, I don't know what would become of
you and Tayoga if you didn't have me along with you most all the
time! How good the fire feels! The warmth touches my fingers and goes
stealing up my arms and into my body! It reaches my face too and
goes stealing down to meet the fine heat that makes a channel of my
fingers! A glorious fire, Tayoga! I tell you, a glorious fire, Dave!
The finest fire that's burning anywhere in the world!"
"The quality of a fire depends on the service it gives," said the
hunter.
"Dagaeoga has many words when he is happy," said the Onondaga. "His
tongue runs on like the pleasant murmur of a brook, but he does it
because Manitou made him that way. The world must have talkers as
well as doers, and it can be said for Lennox that he acts as well as
talks."
"Thanks, I'm glad you put in the saving clause," laughed Robert. "But
it's a mighty good thing we built our wooden wall. That wind would cut
to the bone if it could get at you."
"The wind at least will keep the warriors away," said Tayoga. "They
will all stay close in the camp on such a night."
"And no blame to them," murmured the hunter. "If we weren't in the
Indian country I'd build our own fire five times as big. Now, Robert,
suppose you go to sleep."
"I can't, Dave. You know I slept all the morning, but I'm not
suffering from dullness. I'm imagining things. I'm imagining how much
worse off we'd be if we didn't have flint and steel. I can always find
pleasure in making such contrasts."
But he crouched down lower against the cliff, drew his blanket closer
and spread both hands over the fire, which had now died down into a
glowing mass of coals. He was wondering what they would do on the
morrow, when their food was exhausted. They had not only the storm to
fight, but possible starvation in the days to come. He foresaw that
instead of discovering all the plans of the enemy they would have a
struggle merely to live.
"Areskoui must truly be against us, Tayoga," he said. "Who would have
predicted such a storm so early in the season?"
"We are several thousand feet above the sea level," said Willet, "and
that will account for the violent change. I think the wind and snow
will last all tonight, and probably all tomorrow."
"Then," said Robert, "we'd better gather more wood, build our wall
higher and save ample fuel for the fire."
The other two found the suggestion good, and all three acted upon
it promptly, ranging through the forest about them in search of
brushwood, which they brought back in great quantities. Robert's blood
began to tingle with the activity, and his spirits rose. Now the snow,
as it drove against his face, instead of making him shiver, whipped
his blood. He was the most energetic of the three, and went the
farthest, in the hunt for fallen timber.
One of his trips took him into the mouth of a little gorge, and, as
he bent down to seize the end of a big stick, he heard just ahead a
rustling that caused him with instinctive caution to straighten up and
spring back, his hand, at the same time, flying to the butt of the
pistol in his belt. A figure, tall and menacing, emerged from the
darkness, and he retreated two or three steps.
It was his first thought that a warrior stood before him, but reason
told him quickly no Indian was likely to be there, and, then, through
the thick dusk and falling snow, he saw a huge black bear, erect on
his hind legs, and looking at him with little red eyes. The animal was
so near that the lad could see his expression, and it was not anger
but surprise and inquiry. He divined at once that this particular bear
had never seen a human being before, and, having been roused from some
warm den by Robert's advance, he was asking what manner of creature
the stranger and intruder might be.
Robert's first impulse was one of friendliness. It did not occur to
him to shoot the bear, although the big fellow, fine and fat, would
furnish all the meat they needed for a long time. Instead his large
blue eyes gave back the curious gaze of the little red ones, and, for
a little space, the two stood there, face to face, with no thought of
danger or attack on the part of either.
"If you'll let me alone I'll let you alone," said the lad.
The bear growled, but it was a kindly, reassuring growl.
"I didn't mean to disturb you. I was looking for wood, not for bear."
Another growl, but of a thoroughly placid nature.
"Go wherever you please and I'll return to the camp with this fallen
sapling."
A third growl, now ingratiating.
"It's a cold night, with fire and shelter the chief needs, and you and
I wouldn't think of fighting."
A fourth growl which clearly disclosed the note of friendship and
understanding.
"We're in agreement, I see. Good night, I wish you well."
A fifth growl, which had the tone of benevolent farewell, and the
bear, dropping on all fours, disappeared in the brush. Robert, whose
fancy had been alive and leaping, returned to the camp rather pleased
with himself, despite the fact that about three hundred pounds of
excellent food had walked away undisturbed.
"I ran upon a big bear," he said to the hunter and the Onondaga.
"I heard no shot," said Willet.
"No, I didn't fire. Neither my impulse nor my will told me to do so.
The bear looked at me in such brotherly fashion that I could never
have sent a bullet into him. I'd rather go hungry."
Neither Willet nor Tayoga had any rebuke for him.
"Doubtless the soul of a good warrior had gone into the bear and
looked out at you," said the Onondaga with perfect sincerity. "It is
sometimes so. It is well that you did not fire upon him or the face of
Areskoui would have remained turned from us too long."
"That's just the way I felt about it," said Robert, who had great
tolerance for Iroquois beliefs. "His eyes seemed fully human to me,
and, although I had my pistol in my belt and my hand when I first saw
him flew to its butt, I made no attempt to draw it. I have no regrets
because I let him go."
"Nor have we," said Willet. "Now I think we can afford to rest again.
We can build our wall six feet high if we want to and have wood enough
left over to feed a fire for several days."
The two lads, the white and the red, crouched once more in the lee of
the cliff, while the hunter put two fresh sticks on the coals. But
little of the snow reached them where they lay, wrapped well in their
blankets, and all care disappeared from Robert's mind. Inured to the
wilderness he ignored what would have been discomfort to others. The
trails they had left in the snow when they hunted wood would soon be
covered up by the continued fall, and for the night, at least, there
would be no danger from the warriors. He felt an immense comfort and
security, and by-and-by fell asleep again. Tayoga soon followed him to
slumberland, and Willet once more watched alone.
Tayoga relieved Willet about two o'clock in the morning, but they did
not awaken Robert at all in the course of the night. They knew that he
would upbraid them for not summoning him to do his share, but there
would be abundant chance for him to serve later on as a sentinel.
The Onondaga did not arouse his comrades until long past daylight, and
then they opened their eyes to a white world, clear and cold. The snow
had ceased falling, but it lay several inches deep on the ground, and
all the leaves had been stripped from the trees, on the high point
where they lay. The coals still glowed, and they heated over them
the last of their venison and bear meat, which they ate with keen
appetite, and then considered what they must do, concluding at last to
descend into the lower country and hunt game.
"We can do nothing at present so far as the war is concerned," said
Willet. "An army must eat before it can fight, but it's likely that
the snow and cold will stop the operations of the French and Indians
also. While we're saving our own lives other operations will be
delayed, and later on we may find Garay going back."
"It is best to go down the mountain and to the south," said Tayoga, in
his precise school English. "It may be that the snow has fallen only
on the high peaks and ridges. Then we'll be sure to find game, and
perhaps other food which we can procure without bullets."
"Do you think we'd better move now?" asked Robert.
"We must send out a scout first," said Willet.
It was agreed that Tayoga should go, and in about two hours he
returned with grave news. The warriors were out again, hunting in the
snow, and although unconscious of it themselves they formed an almost
complete ring about the three, a ring which they must undertake to
break through now in full daylight, and with the snow ready to leave a
broad trail of all who passed.
"They would be sure to see our path," said Tayoga. "Even the short
trail I made when I went forth exposes us to danger, and we must trust
to luck that they will not see it. There is nothing for us to do, but
to remain hidden here, until the next night comes. It is quite certain
that the face of Areskoui is still turned from us. What have we done
that is displeasing to the Sun God?"
"I can't recall anything," said Robert.
"Perhaps it is not what we have done but what we have failed to do,
though whatever it is Areskoui has willed that we lie close another
day."
"And starve," said Robert ruefully.
"And starve," repeated the Onondaga.
The three crouched once more under the lee of the cliff, but toward
noon they built their wooden wall another foot higher, driven to the
work by the threatening aspect of the sky, which turned to a somber
brown. The wind sprang up again, and it had an edge of damp.
"Soon it will rain," said Tayoga, "and it will be a bitter cold rain.
Much of the snow will melt and then freeze again, coating the earth
with ice. It will make it more difficult for us to travel and the
hunting that we need so much must be delayed. Then we'll grow hungrier
and hungrier."
"Stop it, Tayoga," exclaimed Robert. "I believe you're torturing me on
purpose. I'm hungry now."
"But that is nothing to what Dagaeoga will be tonight, after he has
gone many hours without food. Then he will think of the juicy venison,
and of the tender steak of the young bear, and of the fine fish from
the mountain streams, and he will remember how he has enjoyed them in
the past, but it will be only a memory. The fish that he craves will
be swimming in the clear waters, and the deer and the bear will be far
away, safe from his bullet."
"I didn't know you had so much malice in your composition, Tayoga, but
there's one consolation; if I suffer you suffer also."
The Onondaga laughed.
"It will give Dagaeoga a chance to test himself," he said. "We know
already that he is brave in battle and skillful on the trail, and now
we will see how he can sit for days and nights without anything to
eat, and not complain. He will be a hero, he will draw in his belt
notch by notch, and never say a word."
"That will do, Tayoga," interrupted the hunter. "While you play upon
Robert's nerves you play upon mine also, and they tell me you've said
enough. Actually I'm beginning to feel famished."
Tayoga laughed once more.
"While I jest with you I jest also with myself," he said. "Now we'll
sleep, since there is nothing else to do."
He drew his blanket up to his eyes, leaned against the stony wall and
slept. Robert could not imitate him. As the long afternoon, one of the
longest he had ever known, trailed its slow length away, he studied
the forest in front of them, where the cold and mournful rain was
still falling, a rain that had at least one advantage, as it had long
since obliterated all traces of a trail left by Tayoga on his scouting
expedition, although search as he would he could find no other profit
in it.
Night came, the rain ceased, and, as Tayoga had predicted, the intense
cold that arrived with the dark, froze it quickly, covering the earth
with a hard and polished glaze, smoother and more treacherous than
glass. It was impossible for the present to undertake flight over
such a surface, with a foe naturally vigilant at hand, and they made
themselves as comfortable as they could, while they awaited another
day. Now Robert began to draw in his belt, while a hunger that was
almost too fierce to be endured assailed him. His was a strong body,
demanding much nourishment, and it cried out to him for relief. He
tried to forget in sleep that he was famished, but he only dozed a
while to awaken to a hunger more poignant than ever.
Yet he said never a word, but, as the night with its illimitable hours
passed, he grew defiant of difficulties and dangers, all of which
became but little things in presence of his hunger. It was his impulse
to storm the Indian camp itself and seize what he wanted of the
supplies there, but his reason told him the thought was folly. Then he
tried to forget about the steaks of bear and deer, and the delicate
little fish from the mountain stream that Tayoga had mentioned, but
they would return before his eyes with so much vividness that he
almost believed he saw them in reality.
Dawn came again, and they had now been twenty-four hours without food.
The pangs of hunger were assailing all three fiercely, but they did
not yet dare go forth, as the morning was dark and gloomy, with a
resumption of the fierce, driving rain, mingled with hail, which
rattled now and then like bullets on their wooden wall.
Robert shivered in his blanket, not so much from actual cold as from
the sinister aspect of the world, and his sensitive imagination,
which always pictured both good and bad in vivid colors, foresaw the
enormous difficulties that would confront them. Hunger tore at him,
as with the talons of a dragon, and he felt himself growing weak,
although his constitution was so strong that the time for a decline in
vitality had not yet really come. He was all for going forth in the
storm and seeking game in the slush and cold, ignoring the French and
Indian danger. But he knew the hunter and the Onondaga would not hear
to it, and so he waited in silence, hot anger swelling in his heart
against the foes who kept him there. Unable to do anything else, he
finally closed his eyes that he might shut from his view the gray and
chilly world that was so hostile.
"Is Areskoui turning his face toward us, Tayoga?" he asked after a
long wait.
"No, Dagaeoga. Our unknown sin is not yet expiated. The day grows
blacker, colder and wetter."
"And I grow hungrier and hungrier. If we kill deer or bear we must
kill three of each at the same time, because I intend to eat one all
by myself, and I demand that he be large and fat, too. I suppose we'll
go out of this place some time or other."
"Yes, Dagaeoga."
"Then we'd better make up our minds to do it before it's too late. I
feel my nerves and tissues decaying already."
"It's only your fancy, Dagaeoga. You can exist a week without food."
"A week, Tayoga! I don't want to exist a week without food! I
absolutely refuse to do so!"
"The choice is not yours, now, O Dagaeoga. The greatest gift you can
have is patience. The warrior, Daatgadose, of the clan of the Bear, of
the nation Onondaga, of the great League of the Hodenosaunee, even
as I am, hemmed in by enemies in the forest, and with his powder and
bullets gone, lay in hiding ten days without food once passing his
lips, and took no lasting hurt from it. You, O Dagaeoga, will
surely do as well, and I can give you many other examples for your
emulation."
"Stop, Tayoga. Sometimes I'm sorry you speak such precise English. If
you didn't you couldn't have so much sport with a bad situation."
The Onondaga laughed deeply and with unction. He knew that Robert was
not complaining, that he merely talked to fill in the time, and he
went on with stories of illustrious warriors and chiefs among his
people who had literally defied hunger and thirst and who had lived
incredible periods without either food or water. Willet listened in
silence, but with approval. He knew that any kind of talk would cheer
them and strengthen them for the coming test which was bound to be
severe.
Feeling that no warriors would be within sight at such a time they
built their fire anew and hovered over the flame and the coals,
drawing a sort of sustenance from the warmth. But when the day was
nearly gone and there was no change in the sodden skies Robert
detected in himself signs of weakness that he knew were not the
product of fancy. Every inch of his healthy young body cried out for
food, and, not receiving it, began to rebel and lose vigor.
Again he was all for going forth and risking everything, and he
noticed with pleasure that the hunter began to shift about and to peer
into the forest as if some plan for action was turning in his mind.
But he said nothing, resolved to leave it all to Tayoga and Willet,
and by-and-by, in the dark, to which his eyes had grown accustomed, he
saw the two exchanging glances. He was able to read these looks.
The hunter said: "We must try it. The time has come." The Onondaga
replied: "Yes, it is not wise to wait longer, lest we grow too feeble
for a great effort." The hunter rejoined: "Then it is agreed," and the
Onondaga said: "If our comrade thinks so too." Both turned their eyes
to young Lennox who said aloud: "It's what I've been waiting for a
long time. The sooner we leave the better pleased I'll be."
"Then," said Willet, "in an hour we'll start south, going down the
trail between the high cliffs, and we'll trust that either we've
expiated our sin, whatever it was, or that Areskoui has forgiven us.
It will be terrible traveling, but we can't wait any longer."
They wrapped their blankets about their bodies as additional covering,
and, at the time appointed, left their rude shelter. Yet when they
were away from its protection it did not seem so rude. When their
moccasins sank in the slush and the snow and rain beat upon their
faces, it was remembered as the finest little shelter in the world.
The bodies of all three regretted it, but their wills and dire
necessity sent them on.
The hunter led, young Lennox followed and Tayoga came last, their feet
making a slight sighing sound as they sank in the half-melted snow and
ice now several inches deep. Robert wore fine high moccasins of tanned
mooseskin, much stronger and better than ordinary deerskin, but before
long he felt the water entering them and chilling him to the bone.
Nevertheless, keeping his resolution in mind, and, knowing that the
others were in the same plight, he made no complaint but trudged
steadily on, three or four feet behind Willet, who chose the way that
now led sharply downward. Once more he realized what an enormous
factor changes in temperature were in the lives of borderers and how
they could defeat supreme forethought and the greatest skill. Winter
with its snow and sleet was now the silent but none the less potent
ally of the French and Indians in preventing their escape.
They toiled on two or three miles, not one of the three speaking. The
sleet and hail thickened. In spite of the blanket and the deerskin
tunic it made its way along his neck and then down his shoulders and
chest, the chill that went downward meeting the chill that came upward
from his feet, now almost frozen. He could not recall ever before
having been so miserable of both mind and body. He did not know it
just then, but the lack of nourishment made him peculiarly susceptible
to mental and physical depression. The fires of youth were not burning
in his veins, and his vitality had been reduced at least one half.
Now, that terrible hunger, although he had striven to fight it,
assailed him once more, and his will weakened slowly. What were those
tales Tayoga had been telling about men going a week or ten days
without food? They were clearly incredible. He had been less than two
days without it, and his tortures were those of a man at the stake.
Willet's eyes, from natural keenness and long training, were able to
pierce the dusk and he showed the way, steep and slippery though it
was, with infallible certainty. They were on a lower slope, where by
some freak of the weather there was snow instead of slush, when he
bent down and examined the path with critical and anxious eyes. Robert
and Tayoga waited in silence, until the hunter straightened up again.
Then he said:
"A war party has gone down the pass ahead of us. There were about
twenty men in it, and it's not more than two hours beyond us. Whether
it's there to cut us off, or has moved by mere chance, I don't know,
but the effect is just the same. If we keep on we'll run into it."
"Suppose we try the ascent and get out over the ridges," said Robert.
Willet looked up at the steep and lofty slopes on either side.
"It's tremendously bad footing," he replied, "and will take heavy toll
of our strength, but I see no other way. It would be foolish for us to
go on and walk straight into the hands of our enemies. What say you,
Tayoga?"
"There is but a single choice and that a desperate one. We must try
the summits."
They delayed no longer, and, Willet still leading, began the frightful
climb, choosing the westward cliff which towered above them a
full four hundred feet, and, like the one that faced it, almost
precipitous. Luckily many evergreens grew along the slope and using
them as supports they toiled slowly upward. Now and then, in spite of
every precaution, they sent down heaps of snow that rumbled as it
fell into the pass. Every time one of these miniature avalanches fell
Robert shivered. His fancy, so vitally alive, pictured savages in the
pass, attracted by the noise, and soon to fire at his helpless figure,
outlined against the slope.
"Can't you go a little faster?" he said to Willet, who was just ahead.
"It wouldn't be wise," replied the hunter. "We mustn't risk a fall.
But I know why you want to hurry on, Robert. It's the fear of being
shot in the back as you climb. I feel it too, but it's only fancy with
both of us."
Robert said no more, but, calling upon his will, bent his mind to
their task. Above him was the dusky sky and the summit seemed to tower
a mile away, but he knew that it was only sixty or seventy yards now,
and he took his luxurious imagination severely in hand. At such a time
he must deal only in realities and he subjected all that he saw to
mathematical calculation. Sixty or seventy yards must be sixty or
seventy yards only and not a mile.
After a time that seemed interminable Willet's figure disappeared over
the cliff, and, with a gasp, Robert followed, Tayoga coming swiftly
after. The three were so tired, their vitality was so reduced that
they lay down in the snow, and drew long, painful breaths. When some
measure of strength was restored they stood up and surveyed the place
where they stood, a bleak summit over which the wind blew sharply.
Nothing grew there but low bushes, and they felt that, while they may
have escaped the war band, their own physical case was worse instead
of better. Both cold and wind were more severe and a bitter hail beat
upon them. It was obvious that Areskoui did not yet forgive, although
it must surely be a sin of ignorance, of omission and not of
commission, with the equal certainty that a sin of such type could not
be unforgivable for all time.
"We seem to be on a ridge that runs for a great distance," said
Tayoga. "Suppose we continue along the comb of it. At least we cannot
make ourselves any worse off than we are now."
They toiled on, now and then falling on the slippery trail, their
vitality sinking lower and lower. Occasionally they had glimpses of a
vast desolate region under a somber sky, peaks and ridges and slopes
over which clouds hovered, the whole seeming to resent the entry of
man and to offer to him every kind of resistance.
Robert was now wet through and through. No part of his body had
escaped and he knew that his vitality was at such a low ebb that at
least seventy-five per cent, of it was gone. He wanted to stop, his
cold and aching limbs cried out for rest, and he craved heat at the
cost of every risk, but his will was still firm, and he would not be
the first to speak. It was Willet who suggested when they came to a
slight dip that they make an effort to build a fire.
"The human body, no matter how strong it may be naturally, and how
much it may be toughened by experience, will stand only so much," he
said.
They were constantly building fires in the wilderness, but the fire
they built that morning was the hardest of them all to start. They
selected, as usual, the lee of a rocky uplift, and, then by the
patient use of flint and steel, and, after many failures, they
kindled a blaze that would last. But in their reduced state the labor
exhausted them, and it was some time before they drew any life from
the warmth. When the circulation had been restored somewhat they piled
on more wood, taking the chance of being seen. They even went so far
as to build a second fire, that they might sit between the two and dry
themselves more rapidly. Then they waited in silence the coming of the
dawn.