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[Illustration: THEN HE GRIPPED HIS WEAPON BY THE MUZZLE, AND SPRANG
STRAIGHT FOR THE PACK.
_See page 175._
]
THE FIERY TOTEM
A TALE OF ADVENTURE IN THE
CANADIAN NORTH-WEST
BY
ARGYLL SAXBY, M.A., F.R.G.S.
AUTHOR OF
"BRAVES, WHITE AND RED" "COMRADES THREE!"
"TANGLED TRAILS" ETC. ETC.
_SECOND IMPRESSION_
LONDON
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
4 BOUVERIE STREET AND 65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A PERILOUS PASSAGE 5
II. DEER-STALKING 14
III. THE LONELY CAMP 22
IV. FRIENDS OR FOES? 33
V. LOST IN THE FOREST 41
VI. THE MEDICINE MAN 53
VII. THE FRIEND IN NEED 67
VIII. NIGHT IN THE WIGWAM 83
IX. THE TEMPTATION 96
X. A DEATH-TRAP 104
XI. TO THE RESCUE! 115
XII. CRAFTY TACTICS 130
XIII. THE PRICE OF A ROBE 142
XIV. THE BATTLE OF WITS 151
XV. OFF! 165
XVI. A NIGHT'S TERROR 172
XVII. THE FATE OF RED FOX 181
XVIII. HOT ON THE TRAIL 191
XIX. THUNDER-MAKER'S DOWNFALL 205
XX. THE FIERY TOTEM 217
THE FIERY TOTEM
CHAPTER I
A PERILOUS PASSAGE
"Well, good-bye, boys! You won't go far from camp before we return, will
you?" The speaker was one of two men seated in an Indian canoe. He
gripped the forward paddle, while his companion at the stern added
cheerfully--
"The backwoods is not the City of London. There are no policemen to
appeal to if you lose your way. Besides, we hope to find dinner waiting
for our return. Hunting lost sons is not the same sport as hunting
moose."
Both the boys laughed at the elder man's remark, and one--Bob Arnold by
name--answered--
"Don't worry about us, father. Alf and I can take care of ourselves for
half a day. Can't we, Alf?"
"Rather," the younger chum replied. "It's our respected parents who'll
need to take care of themselves in unknown waters in that cockleshell."
Then he called out merrily, imitating the tone of the first speaker--his
father: "Take care of yourselves, dads! Remember the Athabasca River is
not Regent Street!"
"Cheeky youngster!" returned the elder man banteringly, as he struck the
forward paddle into the water. "There's not much of the invalid left
about you after three months' camping."
Then with waving hands and pleasant chaffing, that showed what real good
chums the quartette were, the men struck out for the centre of the
river, leaving their sons watching from the strand before the camp that
was pitched beneath the shadow of the great pine trees.
It was a glorious morning--just the right sort for a hunting-expedition.
The air was just chilly enough to render paddling a welcome exercise,
and just warm enough to allow intervals of pleasant drifting in the
centre of the current when there were no shoals or driftwood to be
avoided.
"Yes," remarked Holden, the younger of the two men, as the rhythm of the
dripping paddles murmured pleasantly with Nature's music heard from
leafy bough and bush; "yes, Alf's a different boy now. Who would have
believed that these three short months would have changed a fever-wasted
body into such a sturdy frame?"
"It looks like a miracle," returned the other man. "It was a great idea,
that of a six months' trapping in the backwoods. When we get back to
England we'll all four look as healthy as savages. My Bob is the colour
of a redskin."
"It was a great blessing that you were able to bring him. It wouldn't
have been half as enjoyable for Alf, not having a chum."
The elder man laughed softly as he turned a look of good-comradeship
towards his companion.
"That's just as it ought to be, Holden," he said. "You and I were chums
at school, chums at college, and now chums in business. It's the right
thing that our sons should follow our good example. At least, that's my
opinion."
"And you know it's mine," was the response. "But, I say! Do you think we
are wise to keep quite in the centre of the current? It seems to be
driving pretty hard, and we don't know the course. We might wish to land
if we saw rapids."
"I dare say you are right," replied Arnold. "We'll steer straight
across that bend ahead of us. After that we can keep well under the
shadow of the willows--or near them. We will look for a good landing
spot and strike inwards. There ought to be moose or some equally good
sport among those bluffs and clearings."
It is one thing to make plans; it is quite another matter to carry them
out. Especially is this the case when strangers are travelling in
strange country.
Of course the present mode of travel was no novelty to either of the
men. Their youth had been passed in Western Canada (though not in the
vicinity of the present voyage) before their parents sent them home to
college in England. But even the hardened voyager knows that experience
does not anticipate all chances, and this case was no exception to the
rule.
The river was certainly beginning to run at a pace that was perceptibly
swifter than that of the start when two miles farther up. This did not
give any cause for concern, however, for the ears of the travellers were
prepared for any sound that indicated rapids, and there was no other
contingency that they felt need to dread.
At a little distance ahead, the course could be seen to take a sharp
turn to the right, where the dense growth of beech and towering pines
resembled the portals of a giant gateway; and, as it neared the opening,
the canoe swung round the curve with the swift flight of a swallow.
It was a sudden change of pace, due mainly to the sharpness of the turn.
But as soon as the men fully entered the fresh span of the course they
both started involuntarily, for the banks were so steep as to prohibit
landing, and the river narrowed towards a second gateway formed by
towering cliffs--steep as a Colorado canon.
"Look out!" exclaimed Holden, as he knelt high and gripped his paddle
firmly. "Leave the steering to me, I can manage better from the stern.
Come back here if you can."
The canoe had already begun to dance among foaming crests like an
egg-shell.
Arnold crept towards his companion.
"Not a pleasant look out!" he remarked, with a grim smile on his face.
"It will be a marvel if we get through that canon with dry skins."
"Dry skins!" laughed Holden. His voice was laughing, but his eyes were
fixed steadily a few yards in front of the canoe with that firm gaze of
a brave man looking peril straight in the face. "Dry skins! It'll be a
greater marvel if we get through it with any skins at all!"
"We'll have a good try, anyway," responded Arnold. Then he remarked
quaintly: "This is like old times, isn't it--you and I out in a scrape
together? I hope the Head won't blow us up for it when we get back to
school!"
The river had now entered the narrow course, and was rushing on a
foaming way with an awesome roar.
Now and then the canoe would leap to one side as a wave hungrily licked
her prow; sometimes she would push her nose into a crest that splashed
the travellers with spray. Fortunately the spring torrents were over,
and danger from drifting logs was not to be reckoned with, but the
possibility that rocks might be hidden among the white waves was a
reasonable cause for concern--all the more so, considering that they
were unknown.
Onwards they dashed at breakneck speed, while both the men sat grimly
silent, prepared to take bravely whatever fate might be in store for
them. Probably their thoughts were more of the two boys at the camp than
of their present strait--more engaged with commending their sons to the
care of God than speculating as to the result of this adventure.
Then, with a suddenness that gave no time for thought, there was a crash
like crackling match-wood--a rush of water that seemed to crush all
within its embrace. Next moment the two men were struggling in the
stream.
At that crisis, Arnold's first thought was for his friend--just as it
had always been since he fought his chum's first battles at school.
He grabbed wildly, and held on to something that he afterwards found to
be his friend's jacket.
"Are you all right?" he yelled above the din of the waters, as both men
reached the surface.
"A1 at Lloyd's!" came the cheerful reply--undaunted even in extremity.
"That's good. We'll weather this yet. Hang on to my coat, and we'll keep
together!"
Being expert swimmers, there was little cause for fear so long as the
current passed clear of obstacles, and the men had little to do but keep
a suitable position, for the force of the water bore them well on the
surface. But the chief danger was from undercurrents and whirlpools, and
as the boundaries of the river rapidly narrowed this risk became more
serious every moment.
As they rushed onwards, so the two walls of the canon came
nearer--shutting out the light until the scene resembled the gloomy
depths of a seething cauldron.
Closer and closer came the walls; swifter and swifter rushed the water.
Now the limits were so narrow that the river was but a smooth riband
darting between walls worn glassy by the wear of countless ages.
The friends came so close that they touched one another's shoulders.
That was one moment.
The next instant each felt himself shot forward through a narrow opening
like a cork that is volleyed from a bottle; and when the men came to
realise their position, they found themselves floating on the surface of
a placid lake into which the canon poured its flood.
They looked at one another. The adventure had parted them, but Arnold
laughingly held up a portion of Holden's coat as a banner to signal his
position.
"Our same old luck!" exclaimed Holden, laughing.
"It'll cost you a new coat!" returned Arnold with equal cheer.
It was perhaps a hundred yards to the nearest shore, so the men
immediately started in that direction. Both were considerably exhausted
by the experiences through which they had providentially passed without
serious injury, and consequently the progress was slow.
But at last they reached the bank, where the red and grey willows bent
their long strands in a tangled trellis.
Knee deep in the mud, the men stood upright, to clear the way to
freedom. But, as they parted the nearest branches, a number of arms were
suddenly forced through the scrub; a number of hands gripped them with
irresistible strength; and before they could realise what had happened
they were rudely dragged up the bank of the lake.