_A NARROW ESCAPE._
If Roy had not been with them, the Indians would certainly never have
found themselves in such a desperate plight. They would never have
thought of attempting to cross the river, for they understood better
than anyone the portentous signs of a “break-up.” But Roy in a black
humor had decided to go on, and his word was law. Therefore, what else
could they do? What was left them to do? They would as soon have thought
of questioning the wisdom of the Creator as disputing Roy’s
judgment—probably sooner. For such was their habit of obedience, a
habit handed down by generations of men who had been Company’s servants.
In truth Sahanderry had turned positively grey with terror when Roy had
decided to cross. However, though he was not one of the bravest of men,
what he did was not easy. It required considerable self-control to lead
the way, as was his duty, for it was like walking to almost certain
death.
Since leaving the spot where they had as they thought left Broom asleep,
the difficulties of their journey had grown with every passing day;
indeed, the last few days’ travel, toiling ankle-deep in slush, had been
very hard work, for spring had come upon them and the snow was
disappearing as if by magic, and though they had not many miles to go,
the nearer they approached their destination the slower had been their
progress, and this had irritated Roy almost to a frenzy. Consequently
the signs that should have warned him to stay had been the very things
to urge him on. Clearly his usual good judgment had been at fault; and
his blindness could not have been wholly responsible for this, as his
hearing had been preternaturally sharpened thereby and there could have
been no possible doubt as to his having heard the frequent significant
explosions up the river, which had been loud enough to waken the dead,
so to speak. Moreover he had had a good idea of the character of the
river, therefore these recurring reports should have been sufficient to
warn him. But truth to tell his mood had become fierce and reckless, and
brooked no control.
Howbeit the little party found themselves on a surface of quaking,
rocking ice that threatened to “break up” and move out at any moment.
Just where they were the river was of considerable width and the ice was
very soft, and they were in a very bad way indeed.
Rain had fallen during the past week; floods of the creeks and larger
tributaries were pouring into the river, and the great volume of water
was lifting the ice, and, as it strained and labored from this great
pressure, the explosions grew louder, nearer and more frequent.
Presently, far up the stream, a huge billow of straining, tumbling
ice-cakes reared its head and came steadily toward them. Behind this
mighty billow was the spring freshet against which nothing could stand.
Meanwhile, his eyes wide with terror, Sahanderry slipped and stumbled
ahead of the poor miserable dogs, who strained and tore at their traces,
half running, half swimming in places, where the water was deep. The
sled and everything on it were streaming wet, for at times it was almost
entirely submerged in deep holes, filled with water. The dogs were urged
on by the boy David, who, though almost played out by dragging the sled,
still “drove them up” vigorously; turning ever and anon to look back at
Kasba, who was following slowly, painfully, behind, and leading Roy by
the hand.
By and by there was a ruder shock than any that had gone before and the
whole ice field became in motion. Startled at last out of his
indifference, Roy gave an exclamation of concern and stood still, but
his expression did not change; he was perfectly cool and self-possessed;
the sort of coolness that comes upon strong men in moments of danger.
The grinding of the ice was terrible to hear, and soon the whole ice
field was moving down stream. Roy, now thoroughly alive to their
situation, turned to Kasba: “The river is ‘going out’?” he said,
interrogatively.
The girl paused to control her voice before she answered.
“Yes, Bekothrie,” she said quite steadily. “It is on the move.” She
neither wept nor trembled, though she fully realized the danger they
were in.
“Can we return to the bank?” asked Roy quietly.
The girl looked back. The ice behind them was piling along the shore in
impassable confusion. “No, Bekothrie,” she said, “we cannot go back.”
“Where are the others?” he asked.
“Far in front,” answered the girl. “They are waiting for us.”
“Then send them on,” said Roy peremptorily. “Let them save themselves.”
Thereupon Kasba waved Sahanderry and David on. The man at once struck
off, but the boy paused as if loath to go. At that the girl frantically
repeated her gesticulations and the boy drove up his dogs again, but
with apparent reluctance. Soon man, boy and dogs were lost to sight in
the confusion of ice.
“They are gone, Bekothrie,” affirmed the girl.
“Very well,” said Roy, “let us go too.” The girl took his hand again,
and they went on their way. Their progress was necessarily slow. Their
path was strewn with pitfalls for Roy’s feet, and soon the girl was
panting from her exertions in keeping him upright, but within her
delicate body there dwelt an unconquerable spirit.
Reaching a comparatively smooth surface they skated along with increased
speed. There were puddles of water which they could not avoid. Cracks
more or less wide open barred their way, and guided by the girl Roy
crossed them, jumping easily or exerting himself to the utmost,
according to the emergency. But more than one opening was too wide to
allow of any assistance from Kasba’s helping hand, and he had to make
the attempt entirely by her direction. All this was very wearying, for
however careful he might be, he was bound to expend a great deal of
strength to no purpose. It is one thing to jump with eye and muscle
acting together, and another to do it blindly, as everybody knows. Poor
Roy!
At times there were gaps which neither could leap. They skirted these,
walking as fast as possible. Out of breath and entirely worn out with
fatigue, Roy would often fall in a heap upon the ice to rest. He was
cold and disheartened, and would have given up altogether if it had not
been for the girl’s presence, for he valued his life not a jot since his
terrible affliction. Therefore his own danger appealed less to him than
the girl’s situation. It seemed such a terrible thing that she should
lose her bright young life in trying to save his, which was worthless.
He well knew that by herself the girl could have crossed the river
safely, for she was fearless and as agile as a cat, springing and
climbing with the greatest ease.
Then the ice started to rock beneath their feet. “Hurry—hurry!” cried
Kasba, dragging him forward with the desperate energy of a man. “We have
not a moment to lose if we would save our lives.”
“Leave me,” said Roy withdrawing his hand, “and save yourself.”
For a moment the girl gazed at him in horrified surprise. “Leave you!”
she exclaimed in a tone that was unmistakable. “I will not leave you.”
There was a power in her tone that struck him with amazement.
“But I keep you back.”
“Nevertheless, I will not leave you,” repeated the girl firmly.
In spite of their desperate situation Roy could not help smiling. He
realized that their positions had suddenly changed; it was the girl’s
spirit which now predominated. “Very well, then,” he said, giving her
his hand again. “Go on.” The thundering of the broken ice floes, the
grinding of the smaller pieces against each other, made conversation
difficult. Here and there the force of the flood piled up mountains of
cakes which, after a moment, toppled over with a deafening crash.
Presently there was a shock which capped all others, and the ice field
stopped. They knew that somewhere below it had become jammed, and that
an added peril threatened them, for the river was rising each moment,
and if the ice did not overwhelm them it seemed that the flood must. The
cakes rocked threateningly, collided together, then stopped, but the jam
could not hold them back long.
Stumbling, struggling, striving, Kasba dragged Roy along. They were
pitiful sights, these two. Their hands and feet were bleeding, their
moccasins had long since worn out, as had the duffles and hose beneath
them, and their clothes were cut and torn. Kasba’s dress hung in ribbons
and was soaking wet, impeding her movements, while Roy’s knees showed
through great holes, the result of many tumbles. Every step he took was
an effort, a terrible effort, still he dare not give up and let the girl
die, for she would not leave him, he knew.
Slipping and sliding they struggled on.
Presently, to Kasba’s horror, they came to a strait of dark water at
least five feet across, while on either hand huge piles of ice cakes
blocked their way. The situation was desperate. The girl stopped dead,
holding Roy back. “We cannot go on,” she said. “We have come to a very
wide crack.” Then she laughed as lightly as if there were no such thing
as danger. Roy heard her and understood; she was pretending to be gay in
order to make it easier for him.
“How wide is it?” he demanded, steadying his voice with difficulty. The
situation was very nerve-racking.
“It is very wide,” returned the girl. “The widest yet. You must not
attempt it; you will fall in.”
“I’ll not,” replied Roy with emphasis. “Can you manage it?”
“Yes, Bekothrie,” declared the girl bravely, her voice quite unshaken.
Then she laughed again in the same way.
“Well, jump it, then,” said Roy, “and I will follow.”
The girl hesitated a second, then with a coolness that was wonderful she
sprang across, but it took all her agility to clear the gap. With a
white, set face she stood looking anxiously back at him, across the
deep, dark water. “Turn a little to the left, Bekothrie,” she directed.
“That will do. Now advance a few steps. Stop! You are now on the edge.
Spring straight forward and I will catch you.” The girl braced her feet
to receive the shock, while poor, blind Roy bunched his muscles for the
effort.
“Now!” shouted the girl and stood with hands extended ready to receive
him.
At the word Roy launched himself forward, but at the same instant the
ice rocked beneath his feet and almost threw him down; recovering
himself somewhat, he made his spring, but it fell short and he plunged
into the water. Kasba uttered a cry of horror and despair, but stooping
till she was herself in peril of falling she grabbed him by the collar
with both hands and held him up. It was a terrible moment. The girl
skilfully shifted her clutch to Roy’s wrists, first to one hand, then
the other, grasping them with a hold like steel; then, bracing her feet
with a strength inconceivable in so frail a body, a strength far beyond
her years and size, she lifted him so high that he could relieve her of
his weight by sprawling on his chest across the ice and by wriggling his
body assist her to haul him out.
Then Roy staggered to his feet with an unsteady laugh, but the girl, who
stood breathing hard from the efforts of her superhuman exertions,
looked anxiously into his face and saw that his teeth were chattering
and that his lips were blue. He was shivering from head to foot.
“You are cold,” she said, greatly alarmed.
“I’m not,” denied Roy shortly, but for the life of him he could not keep
his voice steady. “Come, let us get on,” and unaided he tottered forward
a few steps, then swayed and would have fallen had not the girl
supported him.
“You must rest,” she said decisively, studying his face closely. “Sit
down.” Taking his arm, she guided him to a nearby hummock. “Sit down,”
she repeated; “the ice is jammed and for the moment we are safe.” She
tried to speak cheerfully, but Roy’s desperate case made her sick at
heart.
For a wonder Roy obeyed, though to be strictly truthful he could not do
otherwise. His brain was beginning to reel from exhaustion, and he fell
rather than sat down. Every bone and muscle ached; his breath came in
gasps. The girl seated herself beside him, and quite unconsciously his
head dropped back and rested against her shoulder. She took one of his
hands softly in both hers while she gazed into his face. She loved him
more than her own life. Poor little thing, how her heart fluttered, how
the blood rushed to her face! She drew him closer and covered him as
much as she could with her arms, trying to put some warmth into his
icy-cold body. She was afraid that he would hear her heart, which was
beating like a hammer. She was for the moment indescribably happy.
Careless of any danger to herself, she looked up into his face as he
leaned against her and held him tighter. There was not a trace of fear
in her own face, nor indeed of any feeling but love and sympathy. If
they were to die, she would prefer to die like that. What did anything
matter since they were together?
Roy seemed to divine her thoughts. “What’s the use of your remaining?”
he asked. “You cannot save me by losing your life.” He spoke almost
roughly and the girl started as if struck a blow.
“I am not frightened,” she answered quietly. “It will not be hard to
die.”
Roy turned half round, as if to look into her face; in fact, his
sightless eyes seemed to be fixed upon hers. “You are a very brave girl,
Kasba,” he said tenderly; “the bravest I have ever known. Why are you so
good to me?” The words were scarcely spoken before he regretted them; a
distressed look came to his face instantly, for he remembered and was
deeply touched by the sincerity of her love for him.
The girl said nothing for a moment, but looked at him with a smile of
unutterable tenderness, which he could not see. “I love you!” she said
simply. “Now you really know, at last.”
“I knew already,” declared Roy. His voice rang painfully, for he
understood how she loved him as he had not understood before, and it
seemed as though it must have somehow been his fault. The full strength
and nobility and devotion of her passion for him rushed on him. For the
first time he saw the splendid heroism of which her untrained nature
would have been capable had she met with a different fate, and it filled
him with a passion of remorse. “Poor child! poor child! What have I done
to be worthy of such love?” he murmured, and feeling for her hand, he
found and pressed it, almost caressingly. Then, drawing her to him, he
felt for her face, and, taking it between his hands, he drew it closer
and kissed her smooth young forehead. “Poor child,” he repeated sadly.
There was a shadow of pain in the words.
The girl’s eyes filled and she uttered something that sounded like a
sob.
At that instant there was a tremendous explosion below, and soon the ice
field started to move again down the current.
The girl started up, and seizing Roy’s hand she pulled him to his feet.
“On! on!” she urged. “We must not stop here. The jam has burst and we
shall be carried out to sea.” As the field moved, mountains of ice which
had piled up because of the jam, toppled over with deafening noise, and
for a time no other sound could be heard. Guiding Roy, the girl moved
forward as swiftly as possible. The fates were good to them. Before
them, and reaching almost to the opposite shore, was one vast stretch of
smooth ice. Once upon that they made better progress and Kasba grew
hopeful. Moving their feet as if skating, they rapidly drew nearer to
the shore. Soon Kasba was able to make out the figures of Sahanderry and
the boy David, who stood in perilous positions on top of huge blocks of
ice, which the action of the flood had piled up on the shore during the
jam. They were waving frantically.
“We are almost there,” Kasba shouted encouragingly in Roy’s ear: “We
shall be saved yet.”
But Roy shook his head. He could not understand the words addressed him.
Nevertheless he did his best to keep up as the girl dragged him forward.
They were now close, but the ice they were on was fast going down
stream, and the two on the ice wall were compelled to scramble along in
order to keep abreast. Presently there was a lull in the noise caused by
the grinding, screaming ice and they could plainly hear Sahanderry’s
voice adjuring them to hasten. Roy raised his voice in a mighty shout in
reply, using his fists for a trumpet, and tried to increase his pace,
but stumbled at almost every step. However, the girl was possessed of
marvellous strength and dragged him by sheer force toward the shore.
And soon they were at the base of the ice wall, which they were passing
at a great rate. Sahanderry on the summit above them whirled a coil
about his head, then throwing it away from him, it straightened itself
out and an end fell at Kasba’s feet. It was the clapmatch line which
belonged to the sled. Quickly the girl caught up the end and tied it
round Roy’s waist. But, divining her intention, he caught hold of her
and despite her struggles would not let her go. The boy and man began to
pull upon the line.
The foundations of the ice wall were being undermined by the rushing
water and it swayed threateningly. Would it hold a little longer?
The man and boy strained on the line, and half-climbing,
half-scrambling, the two were dragged together to the top of first one
ice block, then another. They were now out of danger from the ice floes,
but the structure they were on was trembling and threatening to
collapse, and desperately they strove to gain the summit before it
should topple upon them.
Perceiving the danger, Sahanderry and the boy David tugged on the line
with every ounce of their strength, and Roy, who clung with a deadly
grasp to the girl, was pulled violently to the top, and as he came the
girl was dragged up with him. Once there the whole party lost no time in
precipitating themselves down on the other side, and before long were
safe ashore, nor were they a moment too soon; for they had scarcely left
the ice before the entire wall swayed slowly over and toppled into the
river with a thundering crash that sent a painful thrill through each
one of them.
“Thank God we are saved!” cried the girl breathlessly.
“Amen!” said Sahanderry solemnly, lifting his hat and reverently bowing
his head, an action which was closely imitated by David. Roy nodded, but
said nothing. He was too exhausted for words and was again shivering
violently. Kasba silently pointed this out to Sahanderry, who at once
turned his attention to building a shelter in the form of a brushwood
camp, while David made a huge fire, which was no sooner lighted than Roy
threw himself down beside it, and almost immediately clouds of steam
rose from his wet clothing.
Soon they were all enjoying the warmth of the blaze. They had not eaten
since early morning, but after such a day of fatigue and excitement they
all felt more inclined for rest than food. On comparing notes it was
found that, except for an overpowering fatigue, a severe wetting and
minor cuts and bruises, none of them were any the worse for their
nerve-racking adventure. But they would not go on farther that day—that
was of course out of the question. Later in the evening Roy decided to
spend a few days on the spot, and in the end determined on remaining
there altogether. For he thought the situation over carefully, and
decided that with the break-up of the river spring had come in earnest.
Nature was awaking once more from her heavy sleep in the long winter
night.
The renovation of creation in spring is, I think, more impressive in the
Far North than in any other part of the world, on account of the greater
contrast with what has gone before.
This river, Roy argued, would serve their purpose as well as the one
they had had in mind on leaving Fort Future. So Sahanderry was told to
make a house in the vicinity.
Despite their desperate situation Roy could not help smiling when he
gave the order, for there was practically no building material at hand.
Nevertheless Sahanderry soon accomplished his task. The walls were of
small logs, the roof of several layers of parchments (undressed
deerskins), which they had brought with them, stretched to the tightness
of a drumhead and overlaid with turf. A hole cut in one of the walls
was, in the absence of glass, covered with a piece of cotton and formed
a window. The door was made of boards which had been chopped with
infinite labor from logs. There was no chimney, nor was it required, as,
in the absence of a stove, the cooking would have to be done outside.
And in this primitive dwelling Roy Thursby decided to drag out his
monotonous existence.