LOST IN THE FOREST
Morning came, but it brought no news of the absent men. There now seemed
to be no possible doubt that some accident of a serious nature had
overtaken both, and the boys were at their wits' end to know what steps
to take.
There had been but one canoe for the outing, so it was not possible to
follow up the river course in pursuit of explanation. The only course
was to take the journey on foot. That would be a tedious process, seeing
that the river twined in some parts like a corkscrew. Two or three miles
might be walked, and yet only half the distance might be covered as the
crow flies. However, there seemed nothing else to be done. It was
impossible to remain idly at the camp waiting for what might turn up.
Meantime, their services might be urgently needed, and delay might only
increase the necessity.
"I vote we pack up our outfit in the tents and set off on the chance of
finding their tracks," said Bob. "We can take a good supply of
cartridges with us, in case we are delayed and need to forage for food."
"It's my opinion that we may have to go a good long way," was Holden's
view. "It would be as well to take a small axe and one or two things for
possible camping. A pannikin would be useful----"
"And a small coil of rope. You can never go far in the bush without
finding a use for rope."
"But suppose they come back in our absence?"
"Ah, that's well thought of," Arnold agreed. "It might mean starting out
to hunt for us. We'll leave a note explaining things."
As soon as breakfast was over, the boys made their preparations for
departure. They filled knapsacks with such supplies as they deemed
necessary to meet the circumstances and possible emergencies. They
packed away the loose articles of the camp outfit, and pinned a note
against the flap of the tent to explain the cause of their absence to
any person who might reach the ground before their return. Then they set
out bravely on their quest.
It was their first intention to follow the course of the river, even
though their journey might be considerably lengthened thereby. But very
soon it was found that such tactics were, in the main, impracticable. In
some parts the banks were steep and rocky; in others they were so
thickly clothed with bush that a pathway was only possible after the axe
had cut its way. The latter was particularly the case when a certain
great bend of the Athabasca was reached, so the chums determined to
attempt a short cut across the loop by plunging straight through the
forest.
"It seems easy enough," Alf had said. "We are going about due north, I
think. The bend goes due west, but as the main part of the river flows
north according to the map, if we go straight on we are bound to strike
the water again."
"Right, old man," responded Bob. "In any case, the paters could not be
so near home, or they would have had plenty of time to get back, even by
crawling. So it would be almost wasting energy to trudge so far out of
the way."
It is one thing to say "go north," it is quite another matter to hold a
steady course in a forest. The Indian can do it; likewise the trapper.
They know the signs of the compass such as Nature has provided for
them. They know on which side of the trees certain moss is to be found,
and they know the signs that the blizzard wind leaves behind it when it
has passed on its way from arctic zones. To such as have been initiated
into the higher mysteries of woodcraft from their earliest years, a due
course to any set point of the compass is second nature. But those who
are unlearned in the art soon find out their mistake when they put their
inexperience into practice. The sun is a pointing finger to the
craftsman--a disastrous lure to the ignorant.
Bob and Alf pursued their way pluckily. Determined to keep a steady
course, the tomahawk had to be requisitioned at frequent intervals in
order to clear a passage through the thorns and binding creepers that
impeded the way.
At any other time the adventure would have been one of sheer delight,
for who would not have enjoyed exploring unknown land--probably land,
too, where only the Indian's foot and the feet of the wild creatures of
the forest had ever pressed?
Once or twice the boys saw the great velvet eyes of an antelope peeping
at them through a screen of maple leaves. Again the scrub would rustle,
as a fox crouched down to hide his skulking body from the strangers'
sight. The cat-birds were calling their sad messages to each other among
the maple leaves, and lively little chipmunks would utter their shrill
piping sounds of warning to their friends as they started before the
advance of the young explorers. Yes, it was an experience to fill the
heart with joy when any ordinary call inspired the venture spirit.
On this occasion, however, neither of the boys had eyes for such
pleasant sights, or ears for such sounds as are the delight of the
trapper's life. Their minds were too full of anxiety to permit room for
ordinary enjoyment, and they hardly spoke as they pressed forward in
single file.
In this way they continued for two hours or more. At intervals they
would take it in turn to act as leader and handle the axe; but they did
not allow a pause in the pushing forward, until at last Bob called a
halt, feeling that a rest had been earned.
"We ought to be getting near the river again by this time," he remarked.
"That's what I've been thinking," said Alf. "You see, it was such a
sharp westward turn that the river took after we crossed the ford, that
I don't think we can be far off now. It must come round to the east
again."
"Yet there's no sound of it----"
"That is what's puzzling me. We've covered a couple of miles at the
least."
"And done enough work for four," added Bob. "However, let's get to work
again. The sooner there, the sooner this job will be over."
"Thank goodness it looks pretty clear ahead now--more pine trees and
less of the beastly scrub," said Holden.
Once more the boys pressed forward; but, although they continued the
march for quite another hour, apparently they were as far off as ever
from the river, for they neither sighted water nor came within hearing
distance of the object of their search.
Again they stopped and faced one another with perplexed expressions.
"I'll tell you what it is, old man--we've missed the way," said Alf.
But Bob was never ready to admit defeat of any sort.
"Nonsense," he said. "We've kept a fairly straight course."
"Or thought we have. To my mind, if we'd kept straight on we ought to
have reached the river by this time. As it is, there is no sign of it."
"That's true. Except for being free from the brushwood, we might almost
be where we started. It looks much the same--no slope or any other sign
to suggest that we are nearer to the water."
"What's to be done?"
"I see nothing for it but to go back again and follow the river, as we
were doing in the first place. We were fools to think of taking short
cuts. The other way may have seemed longer, but it would have been a
deal shorter in the long-run."
Both the boys were feeling rather fagged by this time, for their trudge
had been of an exceptionally fatiguing nature. But each kept the thought
to himself, and cheerfully stepped out with the intention of retracing
his steps. It was a disappointment and irksome enough; yet there was no
help for it, and the situation had to be faced pluckily.
But all the best intentions seemed to go wrong that day, and it did not
take an hour's marching before Bob stopped and turned to his chum with a
crestfallen countenance.
"Look here, old man, I don't know what you're thinking, but my own
opinion is----"
"That we've missed the path; that we are lost----"
"I'm afraid that is the truth of it. You see, we've never come to any of
the places that we had to clear with the tomahawk."
"Then what's to be done?" Alf questioned.
Arnold took out his watch and looked at it.
"What's to be done? Grub. That's the first thing. After that we can make
fresh plans. It's noon now, and we can do nothing while we're hungry.
Besides--well, to tell the truth, I'm feeling a little tired."
"I, too," responded Alf, with a faint smile. "I didn't want to say so
while I thought you wished to go on----"
"Just my own idea," Bob returned, with a slight laugh, as he lowered
himself to a soft place under the shadow of a large maple. "So we'll
rest here and have a bite. We'll feel better afterwards."
The little camp was made, and a meal was enjoyed from the contents of
Bob's haversack--biscuits and cold venison. Neither of the lads thought
it was worth while to trouble about shooting and cooking a meal just
then. They would reserve that till night, in the event of their not
being able to find Crane Creek again.
After a considerable rest, the march was resumed for the third time. On
this occasion, however, the process was varied. Their first purpose was,
of course, to find the path by which they had come; so at Bob's
suggestion they carefully proceeded to walk in a circle--checking the
route by notching the trees, and taking wider courses each time a
circuit was completed.
But even these means were ineffective. Circle after circle was made, and
still the earlier track was undiscovered. All the afternoon was thus
occupied, and, when evening came, the boys were footsore and weary--glad
to throw themselves down on the first piece of springy grass, too tired
even to trouble about preparing food.
The disappointment was beyond words. They had started out in the morning
full of cheerful hopes of being able to render aid to their parents who
(they felt sure) were in need of assistance. And now, not only was this
purpose frustrated, but they themselves were in that terrible plight of
being lost in the backwoods--a hundred miles or more from the haunts of
white men, with nothing but plucky hearts to help them, and limited
ammunition to supply bodily needs.
The sun passed over their heads and sunk somewhere beyond the forest.
They could not tell where it vanished, for the camp was amid such dense
surroundings that they could hardly see beyond a hundred yards through
the branches.
With dusk, and after a sparse meal, it was decided to light a fire, more
for the sake of the cheering sight than the need for warmth.
Bob was the first to rise, and as he stood upright he was heard to give
vent to a decided--
"Bother it!"
"What's the matter?" grunted Alf, as he also proceeded to rise.
"Matter?" repeated his chum. "Nothing; only I have stuck my head into a
cloud of moths--big ones and little ones. There seems to be a regular
party going on under this tree."
"It's that luminous patch in the tree that we've been sitting under,"
said Holden, at the same time drawing his friend's attention to what
looked like a patch of light on the trunk of the maple about five feet
from the ground.
"That's curious," remarked Bob, bending forward to examine the spot. "I
wonder what it can be? It looks like the light on one of those luminous
match-boxes that are made so that you can see them in the dark."
"They say that rotten wood sometimes has that effect----"
"But this tree is quite sound. And see! There's another the same on that
tree to the right!"
It was certainly strange, and the boys picked up their guns and
sauntered over to examine the next trunk, on which they found the same
peculiar light attracting an equally numerous lot of moths of many
descriptions.
"There's another!" exclaimed Alf, pointing ahead of him.
"And another!"
"And another!"
By this time the boys were quite excited by their discovery, and when
Alf suddenly drew attention to the further discovery that the marked
trees were almost in a straight line, their excitement was still further
stirred.
"It's the strangest thing I ever heard of--in the natural history way,"
the younger lad said. "To find all these trees marked on the same side,
and all in a straight line--why, it would puzzle the brains of anybody
to explain it!"
Without any decided plan, and more out of curiosity than from any other
motive, the chums proceeded from one tree to another, examining each as
they reached it, and marvelling all the time at what they decided as
being one of the most remarkable freaks of Nature that they had ever
heard about.
Then they became aware of a strange sound that reached them from no
great distance through the trees. It was a most remarkable sound--not
that of any animal with which they were familiar; indeed, it was not a
sound that suggested any beast or bird.
"What on earth is it?" questioned Alf, as the weird wail sighed through
the forest.
"It sounds like a harmonium in distress!" replied Bob, with a slight
laugh. And even as he spoke the wail was repeated, though this time
could be distinctly heard the voice of some person struggling to
articulate to some musical accompaniment the words--
"Rool Britanny! Britanny rool waves!
Britons ne-vaire--ne-vaire--ne-vaire
Shall be sla-aves!"