CHAPTER XXIXA WILDERNESS ORPHAN
The position in which Phil now found himself was certainly a perplexing one. By the very simple process of getting lost he had discovered Cree Jim’s cabin, but was appalled to consider what else he had found at the same time. He now knew that the remainder of their journey, its most difficult and dangerous portion, must be undertaken without a guide. Not only this, but they must be burdened with a child so young as to be practically helpless. In the meantime, what was to be done with those silent and motionless forms whose dread presence so pervaded that lonely cabin? And how was he to communicate with his friends? There was no back trail to follow, for the snow had wiped it out. He did not even know in which direction camp lay, for, in the ardor of his chase the evening before, he had taken no note of course nor distance.
There was the stream, though, on whose bank the cabin was perched. It must flow into the river. Yes, that was his only hope. But the river might be miles away, and the camp as much farther off; if, indeed, it could still be found where he had left it. But of course it would be! So long as Serge Belcofsky and Jalap Coombs had life and strength to search for him that camp would remain a permanent fixture until he returned to it. Phil was absolutely sure of that, and he now realized, as never before, the priceless value of a friendship whose loyalty is beyond doubt.
So the plan was formed. He would go down the stream and up the river until he found camp. Then he would bring Serge and a sledge back with him. In the meantime the child must be left where he was, for Phil doubted if he could carry him over the weary miles that he knew must lie between the cabin and camp, while for the little fellow to walk that distance was out of the question.
Phil sat on a stool before the fire while doing all this thinking. As he rose to carry out his plan, Nel-te, who was becoming terrified at his mother’s silence in spite of his efforts to attract her attention, slipped from the bed, ran to his new friend, and thrusting a cold little hand into one of his, looked up with a smile of such perfect trust that Phil snatched him in his arms and kissed him, at the same time giving him a great hug.
Then he said: “Now, Nel-te, Brother Phil is going away for a little while to get some doggies for you to play with, and you must stay here like a good boy, and not open the door until he comes back. Do you understand?”
“Yes; me go get doggies. Nel-te like doggies. Good doggies!” And almost before Phil knew what the child was about, he had slipped from his arms, run to the door, and was putting on the tiny snow-shoes that had been left outside. Then, with an engaging smile, he called, cheerily, “Come. Nel-te say come. Get doggies.”
“All right, little chap. I expect your plan is as good as mine, after all,” replied Phil, into whose mind had just flashed the promise made to that dead mother—never to desert her baby. “And here I was about to begin by doing that very thing,” he reflected as he glanced at the marble face overspread by the expression of perfect content that his promise had brought.
Moved by a sudden impulse he picked up the boy, and, bringing him back, held him so that he might kiss the peaceful face. This the child did with a soft cooing that served to convey both love and pity. Then he ran to the stalwart figure that still lay on the floor, and, patting its swarthy cheek, said something in the Cree tongue that Phil did not understand.
After that Phil carefully closed the door to prevent the intrusion of wild beasts, and the two, whose fortunes had become so strangely interwoven, set forth together down the white surface of the forest-bordered stream, on whose bank Nel-te had been born and passed his few years of life. He was happily but unconsciously venturing on his first “little journey into the world,” while his companion was filled with a sense of manliness and responsibility from the experiences through which he had just passed that the mere adding of years could never have brought.
Phil wondered at the ease with which the little fellow managed his snow-shoes, until he reflected that the child had probably been taught to use them from the day of taking his first step. So the two fur-clad figures, ridiculously contrasted in size, trudged along side by side down the winding stream, the one thoughtfully silent and the other chattering of “doggies” until he began to lag behind and give signs that the pace was telling on his slender strength.
“Poor little chap!” said Phil. “But I have been expecting it, and now we will try another scheme.” So, slinging the tiny snow-shoes across the child’s back, he picked him up and set him astride his own broad shoulders, where Nel-te clutched his head, and shouted with glee at this delightful mode of travel.
After they had gone a mile or so in this fashion they rounded a sharp bend, and came so suddenly upon poor Serge, who was making his way up thestream in search of some trace of his friend, that for a moment he stood motionless and speechless with amazement. He could make nothing of the approaching apparition until Phil shouted, cheerily:
“Hurrah, old man! Here we are, safe and sound, and awfully glad to see you.”
“Oh, Phil!” cried Serge, while tears actually stood in his honest blue eyes, “I can hardly believe it! It seems almost too good to be true. Are you sure you are not wounded nor frozen nor hurt in any way? Haven’t you suffered terribly? If you haven’t, we have. I don’t believe Mr. Coombs slept a wink last night, and I know I didn’t. But I am happy enough at this minute to make up for it all, a hundred times over. Oh, Phil!”
“I have suffered a little from anxiety, and been a trifle hungry, and had some sad experiences, but I haven’t suffered half so much as I deserved for my carelessness in getting lost. I found Cree Jim, though; but—”
“And brought him with you?” interrupted Serge, smiling for the first time in many hours, as he glanced at the quaint little figure perched on Phil’s shoulders.
“Not exactly,” replied the other, soberly. “You see this little chap is his son, and I’ve adopted him for a sort of a brother, and he is going with us.”
“You’ve done what?” cried Serge.
“Adopted him. That is, you see I promised my aunt Ruth to bring her something from Alaska that was unique in the way of a curio, and it seems to me that Nel-te here will please her about as well as anything. Don’t you think so?”
“Perhaps so,” assented Serge, doubtfully. “But was his father willing that you should have him?”
“Oh yes, perfectly. That is, you know, he is dead, and so is the mother; but I promised her to take careof the little chap, and as there wasn’t anything else to be done, why, here we are.”
“Of course it’s all right if you say so,” agreed Serge, “and I don’t care, so long as you are safe, if you carry a whole tribe back to your aunt Ruth; but now don’t you think we’d better be getting along to camp? It was all I could do to persuade Mr. Coombs to stay behind and look out for things; he is so anxious. The only way I could induce him to stay was by suggesting that you might come in tired and hungry, and would feel awfully if no one was there to welcome you. But he is liable to set out on a hunt for you at any moment.”
“Certainly, we must get there as quickly as possible,” replied Phil. “How far is it?”
“Not more than one mile up the river from the mouth of this creek, which is only a few rods below here. But oh, Phil, to think that I have found you! When I had almost given up all hope of ever again seeing you alive, too. I have been down as far as our first camp on the river this morning, and this creek was my last hope. I wouldn’t have left the country without you, though, or at any rate without knowing what had become of you. Neither would Mr. Coombs. We settled that last night while we talked over what had best be done.”
“I was sure you wouldn’t, old fellow,” replied Phil, with something like a choke in his voice. “I knew that as well before you said it as I do now, and it was the thing that kept me up most of all.”
The two boys had so much to tell, and so many proofs of loving confidence to exchange, that, before they realized they were anywhere near camp they came upon it, and were hailed by Jalap Coombs, who almost hugged Phil in his revulsion of feeling and unaffected joy at the lad’s return.
“But you don’t do it again, Philip, my son!” he cried. “That is, the next time you feel inclined to wander from home and stay out nights, you may go, of course, but you’ll have to take me along. So ef you gits lost, I gits lost likewise; for, as my old friend Kite Roberson useter say consarning prodegal sons, ‘It’s allus toughest on them as is left behind.’ But, Phil, what be ye doing with that furry little beggar? Is he the pilot ye went sarching for?”
“Yes,” laughed Phil, lifting Nel-te down from his shoulders. “He is the pilot who is to lead us from this wilderness, and if you have got anything to eat, you’d better give it to him before he devours one of the dogs, which he seems inclined to do. I can answer for it that he has been on short rations for several days and is properly hungry.”
“Have I got anything to eat?” cried the other. “Waal, rather! How does fresh steaks, and roasts, and chops, and stews strike your fancy?” With this he pointed to one side of the camp, where, to their astonishment, the boys saw a quantity of fresh meat, much of which was already cut into thin strips for freezing and packing.
“Where did it come from?” queried Phil, looking at Serge; but the latter only shook his head, evidently equally puzzled.
“It’s jest a bit of salvage that I raked in as it went drifting by,” explained Jalap Coombs, his face beaming with gratified pride. “It’s some kind of deer meat, andfora deer he were pretty nigh as big as one of them elephants back yonder in the moss cave. You see, he came cruising along this way shortly after Serge left, and the dogs give chase and made him heave to. When I j’ined ’em he surrendered. Then I had my hands full in a hurry, driving off the dogs and lashing ’em fast so as they couldn’t eat him, horns and all, andcutting of him up. I hain’t more’n made a beginning with him either, for there’s pretty nigh a full cargo left.”
“But how did you kill him? There wasn’t any gun in camp?” asked Phil, utterly bewildered.
“Of course there warn’t no gun,” answered Jalap Coombs, “and likewise I didn’t need one. Sich things I leave for boys. How did I kill him, say you? Why, I jest naterally harpooned him like I would any other whale.”