Chapter Twenty Nine.The Healing of a Feud.Upon the principle of making hay while the sun shone, the little imprisoned party worked hard amongst the walrus, and with so much success, that there seemed to be no doubt about the cargo defraying the expenses of the expedition, and, if it should prove necessary, paying for a second voyage the next year.“If we can get out,” said Steve one day, when the subject was being discussed in the cabin.“We must take that for granted, my lad,” said the captain. “There are many reasons why it is possible for the mass of ice at the bottom of the fiord to give way. The outside must always be weakening, and the pressure on the inner increasing by the constant flow of water into the fiord, which is rising day by day. That passage does not take off half as much as appears to come in somewhere from the rocks, and sooner or later this must break through the ice. If it comes to the worst, we must turn engineers and block the passage by blasting down stones in that narrowest part till we have dammed the way out. We should then turn this fiord into a lake, which would, sooner or later, burst down its southern bank.”There was a little talk that evening, too, about the sun, whose career above the horizon was coming to an end, the height at noon being far less, and at midnight so close down to the horizon that it ceased to shine down into the glen, the rays being hid by the glacier. This fact brought forth serious thoughts, for it suggested the time when the brief summer would be drawing to a close, and the approach of that long period during which the arc described by the sun grew lower and lower until it ceased to appear at all, and then came the worst of the wintry time—that when, saving the rays of the moon, stars, and aurora, there was no light.“I don’t want to suggest difficulties,” said the doctor suddenly; “but suppose, when the time for fine weather to be at an end comes, there is no chance of our escape—always supposing that we have seen nothing of theIce Blinkpeople—what then?”“In plain English,” said the captain, “we must make up our minds to pass the winter here.”“The winter?” cried Steve.“Yes, my lad. Why not? We have snug, warm quarters, which we can make warmer, for I saw traces of coal up yonder in the valley close to the glacier. Food is plentiful, and what men have done before men can do again.”“If there is no help for it, we must submit,” said the doctor.“Better submit than venture to sea in these two boats,” said the captain; “and in case of the first emergency, I propose that we begin exploring the land now. We have thoroughly examined all the coast that we could reach north and south.”“And hunt as we go?” said the doctor.“And hunt as we go, so as to lay in a good store of fresh meat. This will freeze and keep any length of time. I don’t think our prospects are so bad—that is, for seamen.”“I thought we should have found some trace of our friends,” said the doctor; but the captain shook his head.“It is all the merest chance,” he said; “we have nothing to guide us. They might have been at Jan Mayen, or up on the north coast of Greenland or the coast of Spitzbergen, or they might be here in the next valley, or north or south where we could not penetrate. On the other hand, they may be in Novaya-Zemlya, or in some region of the far north never yet penetrated by others. Feeling all this has made me think that it will be by accident we shall meet our friends more than by searching; but we shall go on searching all the same.”“Then you will make a start to-morrow?”“Yes, as soon as the carpenter has knocked together a few bars, to make a contrivance that I mean to be a hand-barrow for four or eight men when the ground is rough, and a sledge when it is smooth enough for them to pull it, or on snow.”“Which way shall you go?” said Steve. “Couldn’t we try the valley up by the glacier?”“That is where I mean to go first,” said the captain, “so as to examine more fully those traces of coal; so let’s go to rest in good time and start early.”Steve went on deck to see to his dumb companions before retiring for the night, and found Skene and the young walrus comfortably asleep together forward; for four weeks of imprisonment had sufficed to make the new acquisition so tame and friendly with the dog that Skene quite appreciated his new companion, treating it as a kind of huge india-rubber cushion, over and about which he had a right to stretch himself wherever and whenever he pleased.But a word roused up the dog, who leaped off the walrus, waking it in the act; and seeing its master it, too, advanced, not like the dog in capers and bounds accompanied by barking, but in a curious shuffling fashion, with plenty of whines and whimpers suggestive of its satisfaction and demand for caresses.“Good old Skeny!” cried Steve. “Long walk to-morrow, old man, hunting and bear and all sorts.”The dog uttered a cheery bark at every announcement as if he understood every word, and leaped up at his master, certainly comprehending that there was something on the way.“Hullo, Blub!” cried Steve, stooping to give the walrus some sounding slaps, which were evidently appreciated. “Rum old chap, ar’n’t you? Why, you always feel as if one ought to sit on you, or roll over you, don’t you?”For answer the curious-looking object made a barking kind of grunt, and thrust its curious, neckless head over the lad’s shoe, peering up to him, and evidently enjoying the company of one who talked to and favoured it with plenty of slaps and pats, all of which appeared to be thoroughly appreciated, and missed as soon as the lad moved away, the animal shuffling after him in the most absurd way, and to the great delight of the crew, which joined in petting the uncouth beast in the intervals of being free from some busy task.All this while the stock of oil had rapidly augmented, and one portion of the hold had been set apart for the reception of the great solid tusks, which were carefully extracted from the walrus skulls by Johannes, who never seemed happier than when engaged in some task relating to the capture or storing of the produce of one or other of the arctic animals.The next morning the party bound for the search and hunt for fresh food started quite early, the boat landing them very near to the side of the great glacier, with its wonderful bluish tints in the chasms and hollows about its feet. At Steve’s request Watty was one of the party, for several times lately he had noticed the longing eyes the lad had directed at them when they were bound on an expedition; and now at last, when he was to have a run on shore and see the shooting of the reindeer, his excitement seemed to bubble over, and he could hardly contain himself as he tramped on by the side of Andrew McByle.A brief glance was given to the grand glacier, and then the party bore off to the right along the valley, finding, to Steve’s great delight, as they reached the warmer and more sheltered position, where the ground was protected from the sea breeze and from the icy currents which blew from the north, quite an abundance of flowers, though there was a perfect absence of trees. They were dwarfed and ordinary-looking plants, saxifrages and other alpine growths, and so insignificant, that in another part of the world they would have been looked upon as paltry weeds, but here they were rushed after by both the lads, Watty being down on his knees directly to pick a handful.“Leuk at her,” said Andrew contemptuously. “She always thocht the callant had a bee in her bonnet. She’s gane daft aboot the bit weeds.”But Steve was quite as “daft”; and in the course of their searching for fresh blossoms they came in contact over a tuft which each had espied from a distance, and paused a yard apart, with eyes glistening from eagerness and hand outstretched, the other holding a spare rifle over the left shoulder. Neither spoke for a moment or two, and then Watty broke the silence and looked quite friendly at his young superior; while Steve waited, expecting to hear some unpleasant remark, or to see some annoying gesture, on the lad’s part.“I dinna want them,” said Watty at last. “She’ll find plenty mair. Hey! but it does the hairt good to see the bonnie bit floores ance mair. Peck them and come alang, Meester Stevey, and we’ll be finding bilberries oot yonder on ta brae.”“There’s plenty for both, Watty,” said Steve; and, in the most friendly way brought together by the tiny blossoms, the lads gathered each a handful, Steve sticking his in his breast, and Watty taking off his flat, Celtic, worsted bonnet, laying the flowers carefully therein, and then replacing it upon his bear’s-greasy, shock head.“She’ll pit them in watter when she gets back,” he said. “Hey! but it does her hairt good to rin amang the floores again.”Their party was well on ahead, and they trudged after them together along the valley, with the mountains running steeply up on either side, in places up and away to where the dull green moss and tufty growths gave way to bare patches of stones, and still up and up to where the loose stones were succeeded by rock sheathed and netted with snow. Just above this was the eternal, glittering ice, dazzling in the soft glow of the sun, whose light looked cold and calm, and gave the wondrous landscape a saddened aspect; for, in spite of its beauty and the variety of tint of the mountain-side, Steve felt that there was a something mournful about the valley, though why he could not explain.It was singular, but every step impressed his more thoughtful companions on ahead that this was no haunt for human beings; and as they tramped on, following the windings of the valley, the impression grew stronger and stronger that theirs were the first, possibly might prove to be the last, human feet that had ever traversed this stony desert.“She dinna see nae heather,” said Watty suddenly, “an’ she dinna see nae bluebell; but it’s verra bonnie oot here, Meester Steve. Will ta captain be gaen far awa?”“Oh yes, a long way yet, Watty. We’ve got to shoot some deer to take back.”“Eh? Shoot the deer an’ tak’ back! But she’ll be hungry sune, and when she’s shot a teer she’ll mak’ a fire and roast her. For she’s a fine, gude cook now, and wad like to stay ashore now and build a hoose and shoot and hunt. Wait a wee, and she’ll mak’ a bonnie fire.”“What of?” said Steve, laughing. “We haven’t shot our deer yet; and if we had, there’s no wood here.”“Thenk o’ tat,” said Watty, cocking his bonnet on one side to give his head a scratch. “Nae wud! She’s nane sae fine a countrie as bonnie Scotland, then. Nae wud!” he continued, looking round. “But she’ll find a forest over yonder?”“No, there are no trees here.”“Then she’ll mak’ a fire o’ peat. She’ll find plenty o’ turves doon alangside o’ ta bilberries.”“Yes, you may find turf, and perhaps coal; but we shall see.”They had to hurry a little to overtake the party, and this was soon made easier from their halting about a mile farther inland, where the captain was gazing up the stony slope of the mountain to their left.Steve looked up, expecting to see some particular plant or perhaps bird; but he was soon undeceived by the doctor handing his rifle to Andrew and climbing up a little way to kick off some masses of something and throw them down.“What has he found, Captain Marsham?” said Steve; “gold?”“What is far more valuable to us, my lad—coal. Yes,” he added, as he examined the specimen which he had picked up, “and good, soft, bituminous coal, too. Why, Steve, this is going to be a land of plenty for us. A coal vein cropping out of the cliff-side, ready for us to come with picks, sacks, and sledges to carry off as much as we like.”“She’s pit petter coal than tat into the galley fire,” said Watty, who had followed the example of the others and picked up a piece to examine. “Leuks brown, Meester Stevey. Does she thenk it wud burn?”“We’ll try as soon as we get a deer to roast, Watty.”“Hey, leuk at tat!” cried the lad, as a shadow was cast upon the rock wall, and a huge owl floated by on its soft pinions, staring hard at the human visitors to its solitude with its large round eyes, and then proceeded to perch upon a ledge high above their heads, and strip and devour a speckled bird which it had in its claws.“Hey, look at tat!” cried Watty, whose excitement bubbled over at every fresh thing he saw. “She got ta white speckled grouse fra off the mountain-side. She’s seen ta grouse like tat on Ben Cruachan.”“Ptarmigan, Handscombe,” said the captain, as the white and browny-grey plumage of the unfortunate bird came floating down from where the eagle-owl was preparing its meal.“Yes, ptarmigan, sure enough,” said the doctor. “Come along; we must knock over a few of these if we don’t find any deer. Shall I shoot the owl?”“No, let it rest; we can’t eat it, and we are too busy to care for preserving specimens. Make a note, though, of our having seen these two birds to-day. I want to make out how wide the coal seam is, and whether it would be easy to work. Here, my lad, give some one else that gun, and climb up and tell me how wide that coal is. You can get up there.”“She got oop and teukit an eagle’s nest ance by Ballachulish,” replied the boy; and readily enough he climbed from stone to stone, with the huge owl ceasing its preparation of its dinner and glaring down at him.“Their tameness is shocking to me,” quoted the doctor, as he saw Watty climb and the owl watch him come nearer and nearer, till all at once the great white-and-grey-plumed bird dropped the ptarmigan, made a rapid silent stoop unseen by the lad, struck at his head with claws and wings, and sailed away again silently, leaving the bonnet with its flowers falling more quickly than Watty, who lost his hold, and came rolling, scrambling, and tumbling down, till, scratched, bruised, and breathless, he fell quite at his companions’ feet.“Wha’ did tat?” he shouted furiously, as he sprang up with his eyes flashing; and he gazed from Steve to the doctor and back, as their anxious look changed now to one of mirth on finding that the boy was not much hurt.“Did what?” cried Steve in suffocated tones.“Threw a big lump of turf and knockit off her bonnet.”“Haud your whisht, laddie,” growled Andrew. “Naebody threw a turf, for there isna turf to throw.”“But ta turf hit her an ta lug, and knockit off her bonnet.”“Haud your whisht, laddie; naebody threw a turf. It was the great grey geuse bird teuk her for a lamb. Hey! here she comes back.”In effect the great owl came sailing up, stooped and picked up the ptarmigan it had dropped, and went off to a ledge of the mountain higher up.“She’s spoiled a’ the bonnie floores,” muttered Watty, picking up his bonnet, and climbing up again to report that the coal seam was “sae wide,” this measure being indicated by touching the face of the rock in two places about a foot apart; and he was about to descend when he caught sight of something away over a ridge, and pointed.“She can see the ret-teer,” he whispered. “Whisht!” Watty crept down cautiously, his actions showing that before now he must have been out in the deer forests at home; for as soon as he reached the bottom of the cliff he ran to Skene, who had been watching the owl and its prey with a curiously puzzled look as if he did not know it as a bird at home, and, dropping on one knee, he threw his left arm over the dog’s neck and held his muzzle so that he should not bark.
Upon the principle of making hay while the sun shone, the little imprisoned party worked hard amongst the walrus, and with so much success, that there seemed to be no doubt about the cargo defraying the expenses of the expedition, and, if it should prove necessary, paying for a second voyage the next year.
“If we can get out,” said Steve one day, when the subject was being discussed in the cabin.
“We must take that for granted, my lad,” said the captain. “There are many reasons why it is possible for the mass of ice at the bottom of the fiord to give way. The outside must always be weakening, and the pressure on the inner increasing by the constant flow of water into the fiord, which is rising day by day. That passage does not take off half as much as appears to come in somewhere from the rocks, and sooner or later this must break through the ice. If it comes to the worst, we must turn engineers and block the passage by blasting down stones in that narrowest part till we have dammed the way out. We should then turn this fiord into a lake, which would, sooner or later, burst down its southern bank.”
There was a little talk that evening, too, about the sun, whose career above the horizon was coming to an end, the height at noon being far less, and at midnight so close down to the horizon that it ceased to shine down into the glen, the rays being hid by the glacier. This fact brought forth serious thoughts, for it suggested the time when the brief summer would be drawing to a close, and the approach of that long period during which the arc described by the sun grew lower and lower until it ceased to appear at all, and then came the worst of the wintry time—that when, saving the rays of the moon, stars, and aurora, there was no light.
“I don’t want to suggest difficulties,” said the doctor suddenly; “but suppose, when the time for fine weather to be at an end comes, there is no chance of our escape—always supposing that we have seen nothing of theIce Blinkpeople—what then?”
“In plain English,” said the captain, “we must make up our minds to pass the winter here.”
“The winter?” cried Steve.
“Yes, my lad. Why not? We have snug, warm quarters, which we can make warmer, for I saw traces of coal up yonder in the valley close to the glacier. Food is plentiful, and what men have done before men can do again.”
“If there is no help for it, we must submit,” said the doctor.
“Better submit than venture to sea in these two boats,” said the captain; “and in case of the first emergency, I propose that we begin exploring the land now. We have thoroughly examined all the coast that we could reach north and south.”
“And hunt as we go?” said the doctor.
“And hunt as we go, so as to lay in a good store of fresh meat. This will freeze and keep any length of time. I don’t think our prospects are so bad—that is, for seamen.”
“I thought we should have found some trace of our friends,” said the doctor; but the captain shook his head.
“It is all the merest chance,” he said; “we have nothing to guide us. They might have been at Jan Mayen, or up on the north coast of Greenland or the coast of Spitzbergen, or they might be here in the next valley, or north or south where we could not penetrate. On the other hand, they may be in Novaya-Zemlya, or in some region of the far north never yet penetrated by others. Feeling all this has made me think that it will be by accident we shall meet our friends more than by searching; but we shall go on searching all the same.”
“Then you will make a start to-morrow?”
“Yes, as soon as the carpenter has knocked together a few bars, to make a contrivance that I mean to be a hand-barrow for four or eight men when the ground is rough, and a sledge when it is smooth enough for them to pull it, or on snow.”
“Which way shall you go?” said Steve. “Couldn’t we try the valley up by the glacier?”
“That is where I mean to go first,” said the captain, “so as to examine more fully those traces of coal; so let’s go to rest in good time and start early.”
Steve went on deck to see to his dumb companions before retiring for the night, and found Skene and the young walrus comfortably asleep together forward; for four weeks of imprisonment had sufficed to make the new acquisition so tame and friendly with the dog that Skene quite appreciated his new companion, treating it as a kind of huge india-rubber cushion, over and about which he had a right to stretch himself wherever and whenever he pleased.
But a word roused up the dog, who leaped off the walrus, waking it in the act; and seeing its master it, too, advanced, not like the dog in capers and bounds accompanied by barking, but in a curious shuffling fashion, with plenty of whines and whimpers suggestive of its satisfaction and demand for caresses.
“Good old Skeny!” cried Steve. “Long walk to-morrow, old man, hunting and bear and all sorts.”
The dog uttered a cheery bark at every announcement as if he understood every word, and leaped up at his master, certainly comprehending that there was something on the way.
“Hullo, Blub!” cried Steve, stooping to give the walrus some sounding slaps, which were evidently appreciated. “Rum old chap, ar’n’t you? Why, you always feel as if one ought to sit on you, or roll over you, don’t you?”
For answer the curious-looking object made a barking kind of grunt, and thrust its curious, neckless head over the lad’s shoe, peering up to him, and evidently enjoying the company of one who talked to and favoured it with plenty of slaps and pats, all of which appeared to be thoroughly appreciated, and missed as soon as the lad moved away, the animal shuffling after him in the most absurd way, and to the great delight of the crew, which joined in petting the uncouth beast in the intervals of being free from some busy task.
All this while the stock of oil had rapidly augmented, and one portion of the hold had been set apart for the reception of the great solid tusks, which were carefully extracted from the walrus skulls by Johannes, who never seemed happier than when engaged in some task relating to the capture or storing of the produce of one or other of the arctic animals.
The next morning the party bound for the search and hunt for fresh food started quite early, the boat landing them very near to the side of the great glacier, with its wonderful bluish tints in the chasms and hollows about its feet. At Steve’s request Watty was one of the party, for several times lately he had noticed the longing eyes the lad had directed at them when they were bound on an expedition; and now at last, when he was to have a run on shore and see the shooting of the reindeer, his excitement seemed to bubble over, and he could hardly contain himself as he tramped on by the side of Andrew McByle.
A brief glance was given to the grand glacier, and then the party bore off to the right along the valley, finding, to Steve’s great delight, as they reached the warmer and more sheltered position, where the ground was protected from the sea breeze and from the icy currents which blew from the north, quite an abundance of flowers, though there was a perfect absence of trees. They were dwarfed and ordinary-looking plants, saxifrages and other alpine growths, and so insignificant, that in another part of the world they would have been looked upon as paltry weeds, but here they were rushed after by both the lads, Watty being down on his knees directly to pick a handful.
“Leuk at her,” said Andrew contemptuously. “She always thocht the callant had a bee in her bonnet. She’s gane daft aboot the bit weeds.”
But Steve was quite as “daft”; and in the course of their searching for fresh blossoms they came in contact over a tuft which each had espied from a distance, and paused a yard apart, with eyes glistening from eagerness and hand outstretched, the other holding a spare rifle over the left shoulder. Neither spoke for a moment or two, and then Watty broke the silence and looked quite friendly at his young superior; while Steve waited, expecting to hear some unpleasant remark, or to see some annoying gesture, on the lad’s part.
“I dinna want them,” said Watty at last. “She’ll find plenty mair. Hey! but it does the hairt good to see the bonnie bit floores ance mair. Peck them and come alang, Meester Stevey, and we’ll be finding bilberries oot yonder on ta brae.”
“There’s plenty for both, Watty,” said Steve; and, in the most friendly way brought together by the tiny blossoms, the lads gathered each a handful, Steve sticking his in his breast, and Watty taking off his flat, Celtic, worsted bonnet, laying the flowers carefully therein, and then replacing it upon his bear’s-greasy, shock head.
“She’ll pit them in watter when she gets back,” he said. “Hey! but it does her hairt good to rin amang the floores again.”
Their party was well on ahead, and they trudged after them together along the valley, with the mountains running steeply up on either side, in places up and away to where the dull green moss and tufty growths gave way to bare patches of stones, and still up and up to where the loose stones were succeeded by rock sheathed and netted with snow. Just above this was the eternal, glittering ice, dazzling in the soft glow of the sun, whose light looked cold and calm, and gave the wondrous landscape a saddened aspect; for, in spite of its beauty and the variety of tint of the mountain-side, Steve felt that there was a something mournful about the valley, though why he could not explain.
It was singular, but every step impressed his more thoughtful companions on ahead that this was no haunt for human beings; and as they tramped on, following the windings of the valley, the impression grew stronger and stronger that theirs were the first, possibly might prove to be the last, human feet that had ever traversed this stony desert.
“She dinna see nae heather,” said Watty suddenly, “an’ she dinna see nae bluebell; but it’s verra bonnie oot here, Meester Steve. Will ta captain be gaen far awa?”
“Oh yes, a long way yet, Watty. We’ve got to shoot some deer to take back.”
“Eh? Shoot the deer an’ tak’ back! But she’ll be hungry sune, and when she’s shot a teer she’ll mak’ a fire and roast her. For she’s a fine, gude cook now, and wad like to stay ashore now and build a hoose and shoot and hunt. Wait a wee, and she’ll mak’ a bonnie fire.”
“What of?” said Steve, laughing. “We haven’t shot our deer yet; and if we had, there’s no wood here.”
“Thenk o’ tat,” said Watty, cocking his bonnet on one side to give his head a scratch. “Nae wud! She’s nane sae fine a countrie as bonnie Scotland, then. Nae wud!” he continued, looking round. “But she’ll find a forest over yonder?”
“No, there are no trees here.”
“Then she’ll mak’ a fire o’ peat. She’ll find plenty o’ turves doon alangside o’ ta bilberries.”
“Yes, you may find turf, and perhaps coal; but we shall see.”
They had to hurry a little to overtake the party, and this was soon made easier from their halting about a mile farther inland, where the captain was gazing up the stony slope of the mountain to their left.
Steve looked up, expecting to see some particular plant or perhaps bird; but he was soon undeceived by the doctor handing his rifle to Andrew and climbing up a little way to kick off some masses of something and throw them down.
“What has he found, Captain Marsham?” said Steve; “gold?”
“What is far more valuable to us, my lad—coal. Yes,” he added, as he examined the specimen which he had picked up, “and good, soft, bituminous coal, too. Why, Steve, this is going to be a land of plenty for us. A coal vein cropping out of the cliff-side, ready for us to come with picks, sacks, and sledges to carry off as much as we like.”
“She’s pit petter coal than tat into the galley fire,” said Watty, who had followed the example of the others and picked up a piece to examine. “Leuks brown, Meester Stevey. Does she thenk it wud burn?”
“We’ll try as soon as we get a deer to roast, Watty.”
“Hey, leuk at tat!” cried the lad, as a shadow was cast upon the rock wall, and a huge owl floated by on its soft pinions, staring hard at the human visitors to its solitude with its large round eyes, and then proceeded to perch upon a ledge high above their heads, and strip and devour a speckled bird which it had in its claws.
“Hey, look at tat!” cried Watty, whose excitement bubbled over at every fresh thing he saw. “She got ta white speckled grouse fra off the mountain-side. She’s seen ta grouse like tat on Ben Cruachan.”
“Ptarmigan, Handscombe,” said the captain, as the white and browny-grey plumage of the unfortunate bird came floating down from where the eagle-owl was preparing its meal.
“Yes, ptarmigan, sure enough,” said the doctor. “Come along; we must knock over a few of these if we don’t find any deer. Shall I shoot the owl?”
“No, let it rest; we can’t eat it, and we are too busy to care for preserving specimens. Make a note, though, of our having seen these two birds to-day. I want to make out how wide the coal seam is, and whether it would be easy to work. Here, my lad, give some one else that gun, and climb up and tell me how wide that coal is. You can get up there.”
“She got oop and teukit an eagle’s nest ance by Ballachulish,” replied the boy; and readily enough he climbed from stone to stone, with the huge owl ceasing its preparation of its dinner and glaring down at him.
“Their tameness is shocking to me,” quoted the doctor, as he saw Watty climb and the owl watch him come nearer and nearer, till all at once the great white-and-grey-plumed bird dropped the ptarmigan, made a rapid silent stoop unseen by the lad, struck at his head with claws and wings, and sailed away again silently, leaving the bonnet with its flowers falling more quickly than Watty, who lost his hold, and came rolling, scrambling, and tumbling down, till, scratched, bruised, and breathless, he fell quite at his companions’ feet.
“Wha’ did tat?” he shouted furiously, as he sprang up with his eyes flashing; and he gazed from Steve to the doctor and back, as their anxious look changed now to one of mirth on finding that the boy was not much hurt.
“Did what?” cried Steve in suffocated tones.
“Threw a big lump of turf and knockit off her bonnet.”
“Haud your whisht, laddie,” growled Andrew. “Naebody threw a turf, for there isna turf to throw.”
“But ta turf hit her an ta lug, and knockit off her bonnet.”
“Haud your whisht, laddie; naebody threw a turf. It was the great grey geuse bird teuk her for a lamb. Hey! here she comes back.”
In effect the great owl came sailing up, stooped and picked up the ptarmigan it had dropped, and went off to a ledge of the mountain higher up.
“She’s spoiled a’ the bonnie floores,” muttered Watty, picking up his bonnet, and climbing up again to report that the coal seam was “sae wide,” this measure being indicated by touching the face of the rock in two places about a foot apart; and he was about to descend when he caught sight of something away over a ridge, and pointed.
“She can see the ret-teer,” he whispered. “Whisht!” Watty crept down cautiously, his actions showing that before now he must have been out in the deer forests at home; for as soon as he reached the bottom of the cliff he ran to Skene, who had been watching the owl and its prey with a curiously puzzled look as if he did not know it as a bird at home, and, dropping on one knee, he threw his left arm over the dog’s neck and held his muzzle so that he should not bark.
Chapter Thirty.Missing.Every one stared at Watty, he was so completely transformed from the sulky, ill-conditioned lad who assisted the cook. The Scottish blood in his veins was fired by the sight of the deer and recollections of the stalking he had witnessed in his own Highlands, when he had been with one or other of the keepers, and his eyes flashed as he saw the advance made with the rifled guns.It proved to be no laborious stalk, for the deer did not apprehend danger. The captain brought down one, the doctor another, while Steve, although he rested his heavy rifle on a stone in taking aim, missed an easy shot. He did better later on, though, for another opportunity occurred enabling him to creep within sixty yards of a buck with large spreading antlers, and he was about to fire at the animal as it stood with head erect looking round listening to a sound in the distance, when there was a hard breathing just at his shoulder.“Watty, you here?” he said.“Ay. She cam’ to see her shute. Tak’ a lang straight aim this time, laddie. Dinna miss the beastie for bonnie Scotland’s sake. Quick, or she’ll be gane! Tak’ care; reet i’ the shouther.”Bang! “Hey, but ye het her!”For as the report of Steve’s piece rang out and echoed from the side of the mountain, and again from a ridgeacross the mossy plain at whose edge they wandered, the stag at which he had fired made a bound and went off at full speed, leaving the lad with his heart beating and full of disappointment.“No, Watty, a miss; I can’t shoot straight, and it’s of no use trying, I only waste the cartridges.”“Got him?” came faintly from the distance, and, turning, Steve could see the doctor a couple of hundred yards away.“No!” cried Steve gloomily; and then softly, “I can’t shoot;” and he watched the disappearing stag.“Yes, yes, yes!” yelled Watty. “Hi—yi—yi—yi—ah!”For just as the deer was going at full speed, and a few more bounds would have taken it round a point and out of sight, it dropped suddenly, the impetus at which it had been going sending it right over and over twice; then it lay motionless, and, re-loading as he went, Steve exultantly started after his prize.“I told her sae; I kenned she’d het her by the way the beastie rinned. Shot recht through the hairt, laddie—recht through the hairt.”“Mind, it may only be wounded, and these things are dangerous.”“Nay, she’ll never rin again,” panted Watty, whom long inaction on board had made fat. “It was a bonnie lang shot, and ye ought to be verra proud.”“But I’m not, Watty; it seems a shame and cowardly to crawl after a beautiful animal and murder it.”“She isna a peautiful animal,” said Watty scornfully. “She’s fat, put she’s not so big and bonnie as a Hieland stag, and her horns are puir scrats o’ things. Hey, but ye should see the tines on the het of a bonnie ret-teer! She’s only coot to eat; ant she must kill the beasties, or else she’d pine to deat.”Watty was right, and they could approach the deer without fear of attack. As it happened, it proved to be the finest shot that day, and after it had been gralloched (as the Highlanders term the opening and cleaning of a stag), by the Norsemen, the light sledge was brought into requisition, the men harnessed themselves to it, and the reindeer was dragged to where the game had been left for picking up on their return; but to the surprise of all it was missing.“It must have been here that we left it,” said the captain, glancing round at the wilderness of rocks reaching from them to the mountain-foot.“Of course; here are the marks,” said the doctor.At that minute, with a quiet smile, Johannes touched Steve’s arm and pointed. The boy followed the direction indicated, and saw something moving on the mountain-side.“Yes, I see it!” cried Steve. “There goes our deer.” For, plainly enough, though over a mile away, possibly two miles, for the air was wonderfully clear, there was a white-coated bear calmly dragging off for its own dinner the deer which had fallen to the doctor’s piece.“Well, of all the thievish impudence!” he cried. “Come along, and let’s give him a lesson.”“No, I think not to-day,” said the captain; “we are all tired and hungry. We should not care for the flesh now.”“But the bear and his skin?”“We could not take him to-day; we can track him another time. If we shot him now, we should have to leave the carcass, and the skin might be torn. Let’s get back to the other deer.”The doctor nodded, and, to Steve’s great delight, they pressed on, picked up the next deer, and then all at once Steve handed his gun to Johannes and started off at a trot toward the valley by which they had come.“Hi! Where’s he going?” cried the doctor, as the men loaded the sledge.“I don’t know,” said the captain. “Yes, I do: he has run on to light a fire where we found the coal, so as to cook some of the meat.”“Yes, that’s it,” said the doctor. “I hope he’ll have a good fire. One gets horribly hungry out here.”They trudged on till they came to where the next deer lay waiting to be picked up. This was the last, and, quite satisfied with their load, they made their way steadily on toward the nearly perpendicular rocks where the coal had been discovered cropping out from the face.“That’s the place, isn’t it?” said the doctor, pointing and shifting his rifle from one shoulder to the other.“Yes, sir!” cried Watty Links eagerly. “She can see ta big white ullet flitting aboot and roond and roond because Meester Stevey’s leeting ta fire. She wushes she’d gane. She can leet a fire better tan Meester Stevey, and she could ha’ blow in it wi’ her brath and beat it wi’ her bonnet to mak’ a big blaze coom sune.”“Did Mr Stephen say to you that he was going to light a fire?”“Phut!” ejaculated Watty, emitting a sound like an angry turkey-cock, and ruffling up and speaking indignantly. “And tit she thenk she would have let her go and light a fire if she hat kenned aboot it? She’d ha’ gane hersel’, and not let the young chentleman touch the coal stuff. She wadna tell me, and rin away to leet the fire her nainsel’, because she thocht she could do it better. But where’s the smok?”“Perhaps you are right,” said the captain; “but I don’t see any smoke. He would have been there by now.”“He has chosen some corner out of the wind,” suggested the doctor, as he watched the great bird circling about the face of the cliff, but from their distance looking less than a pigeon.“We ought to have a specimen of those owls,” said the captain as they trudged on, rather wearily now, their pieces seeming to have grown wonderfully heavy.“Marsham, my good friend,” said the doctor, “there is only one specimen in natural history that interests me now, and that is the fleshy tissue known as steak or collops, frizzled over a good clear fire. After I have exhibited, as we doctors say, a dose of that to myself, I shall be quite ready to talk about owls; not before.”“See him, Johannes?” said the captain, dropping back to take hold of one of the tracking lines, and helping to pull the sledge and ease the men.“No, sir. He has been troubled to get the fire to burn. Maybe he has no matches. For there was plenty of rough coal lying about, and dry stuff that would soon catch alight. But it will be something to find the fire ready to burn; and we can soon get some bits of meat to roast.”“I don’t see any signs of that, my lad,” said the captain, after they had gone a little farther. “Of course that was why he ran on. Did he say anything to you about it?”“Not a word, sir. He made a sudden dart off and was gone.”“Perhaps he has a fire where we cannot see it,” said the captain; “and it tells well for the coal that it burns with so little smoke. It will be capital for the engines.”They trudged on, quite satisfied that they had not the other deer to drag as well, for the ground was very rugged, and Captain Marsham suggested to the doctor that if they had had the bear-skin the task would not have been much lighter. Still, every one was cheerful, and tugged heartily at his track rope; but there was no sign of the lad when they reached the foot of the coal cliff.
Every one stared at Watty, he was so completely transformed from the sulky, ill-conditioned lad who assisted the cook. The Scottish blood in his veins was fired by the sight of the deer and recollections of the stalking he had witnessed in his own Highlands, when he had been with one or other of the keepers, and his eyes flashed as he saw the advance made with the rifled guns.
It proved to be no laborious stalk, for the deer did not apprehend danger. The captain brought down one, the doctor another, while Steve, although he rested his heavy rifle on a stone in taking aim, missed an easy shot. He did better later on, though, for another opportunity occurred enabling him to creep within sixty yards of a buck with large spreading antlers, and he was about to fire at the animal as it stood with head erect looking round listening to a sound in the distance, when there was a hard breathing just at his shoulder.
“Watty, you here?” he said.
“Ay. She cam’ to see her shute. Tak’ a lang straight aim this time, laddie. Dinna miss the beastie for bonnie Scotland’s sake. Quick, or she’ll be gane! Tak’ care; reet i’ the shouther.”Bang! “Hey, but ye het her!”
For as the report of Steve’s piece rang out and echoed from the side of the mountain, and again from a ridgeacross the mossy plain at whose edge they wandered, the stag at which he had fired made a bound and went off at full speed, leaving the lad with his heart beating and full of disappointment.
“No, Watty, a miss; I can’t shoot straight, and it’s of no use trying, I only waste the cartridges.”
“Got him?” came faintly from the distance, and, turning, Steve could see the doctor a couple of hundred yards away.
“No!” cried Steve gloomily; and then softly, “I can’t shoot;” and he watched the disappearing stag.
“Yes, yes, yes!” yelled Watty. “Hi—yi—yi—yi—ah!”
For just as the deer was going at full speed, and a few more bounds would have taken it round a point and out of sight, it dropped suddenly, the impetus at which it had been going sending it right over and over twice; then it lay motionless, and, re-loading as he went, Steve exultantly started after his prize.
“I told her sae; I kenned she’d het her by the way the beastie rinned. Shot recht through the hairt, laddie—recht through the hairt.”
“Mind, it may only be wounded, and these things are dangerous.”
“Nay, she’ll never rin again,” panted Watty, whom long inaction on board had made fat. “It was a bonnie lang shot, and ye ought to be verra proud.”
“But I’m not, Watty; it seems a shame and cowardly to crawl after a beautiful animal and murder it.”
“She isna a peautiful animal,” said Watty scornfully. “She’s fat, put she’s not so big and bonnie as a Hieland stag, and her horns are puir scrats o’ things. Hey, but ye should see the tines on the het of a bonnie ret-teer! She’s only coot to eat; ant she must kill the beasties, or else she’d pine to deat.”
Watty was right, and they could approach the deer without fear of attack. As it happened, it proved to be the finest shot that day, and after it had been gralloched (as the Highlanders term the opening and cleaning of a stag), by the Norsemen, the light sledge was brought into requisition, the men harnessed themselves to it, and the reindeer was dragged to where the game had been left for picking up on their return; but to the surprise of all it was missing.
“It must have been here that we left it,” said the captain, glancing round at the wilderness of rocks reaching from them to the mountain-foot.
“Of course; here are the marks,” said the doctor.
At that minute, with a quiet smile, Johannes touched Steve’s arm and pointed. The boy followed the direction indicated, and saw something moving on the mountain-side.
“Yes, I see it!” cried Steve. “There goes our deer.” For, plainly enough, though over a mile away, possibly two miles, for the air was wonderfully clear, there was a white-coated bear calmly dragging off for its own dinner the deer which had fallen to the doctor’s piece.
“Well, of all the thievish impudence!” he cried. “Come along, and let’s give him a lesson.”
“No, I think not to-day,” said the captain; “we are all tired and hungry. We should not care for the flesh now.”
“But the bear and his skin?”
“We could not take him to-day; we can track him another time. If we shot him now, we should have to leave the carcass, and the skin might be torn. Let’s get back to the other deer.”
The doctor nodded, and, to Steve’s great delight, they pressed on, picked up the next deer, and then all at once Steve handed his gun to Johannes and started off at a trot toward the valley by which they had come.
“Hi! Where’s he going?” cried the doctor, as the men loaded the sledge.
“I don’t know,” said the captain. “Yes, I do: he has run on to light a fire where we found the coal, so as to cook some of the meat.”
“Yes, that’s it,” said the doctor. “I hope he’ll have a good fire. One gets horribly hungry out here.”
They trudged on till they came to where the next deer lay waiting to be picked up. This was the last, and, quite satisfied with their load, they made their way steadily on toward the nearly perpendicular rocks where the coal had been discovered cropping out from the face.
“That’s the place, isn’t it?” said the doctor, pointing and shifting his rifle from one shoulder to the other.
“Yes, sir!” cried Watty Links eagerly. “She can see ta big white ullet flitting aboot and roond and roond because Meester Stevey’s leeting ta fire. She wushes she’d gane. She can leet a fire better tan Meester Stevey, and she could ha’ blow in it wi’ her brath and beat it wi’ her bonnet to mak’ a big blaze coom sune.”
“Did Mr Stephen say to you that he was going to light a fire?”
“Phut!” ejaculated Watty, emitting a sound like an angry turkey-cock, and ruffling up and speaking indignantly. “And tit she thenk she would have let her go and light a fire if she hat kenned aboot it? She’d ha’ gane hersel’, and not let the young chentleman touch the coal stuff. She wadna tell me, and rin away to leet the fire her nainsel’, because she thocht she could do it better. But where’s the smok?”
“Perhaps you are right,” said the captain; “but I don’t see any smoke. He would have been there by now.”
“He has chosen some corner out of the wind,” suggested the doctor, as he watched the great bird circling about the face of the cliff, but from their distance looking less than a pigeon.
“We ought to have a specimen of those owls,” said the captain as they trudged on, rather wearily now, their pieces seeming to have grown wonderfully heavy.
“Marsham, my good friend,” said the doctor, “there is only one specimen in natural history that interests me now, and that is the fleshy tissue known as steak or collops, frizzled over a good clear fire. After I have exhibited, as we doctors say, a dose of that to myself, I shall be quite ready to talk about owls; not before.”
“See him, Johannes?” said the captain, dropping back to take hold of one of the tracking lines, and helping to pull the sledge and ease the men.
“No, sir. He has been troubled to get the fire to burn. Maybe he has no matches. For there was plenty of rough coal lying about, and dry stuff that would soon catch alight. But it will be something to find the fire ready to burn; and we can soon get some bits of meat to roast.”
“I don’t see any signs of that, my lad,” said the captain, after they had gone a little farther. “Of course that was why he ran on. Did he say anything to you about it?”
“Not a word, sir. He made a sudden dart off and was gone.”
“Perhaps he has a fire where we cannot see it,” said the captain; “and it tells well for the coal that it burns with so little smoke. It will be capital for the engines.”
They trudged on, quite satisfied that they had not the other deer to drag as well, for the ground was very rugged, and Captain Marsham suggested to the doctor that if they had had the bear-skin the task would not have been much lighter. Still, every one was cheerful, and tugged heartily at his track rope; but there was no sign of the lad when they reached the foot of the coal cliff.
Chapter Thirty One.Lost.“Ahoy, there! Ahoy!” shouted the doctor again and again, startling the great owl from its eagle-like eerie and making the rocks echo the cry. But there was no response, and the party looked at each other for an explanation of the position.“He has not been here,” said the captain, “and we must go back and search. How tiresome, when we are so weary!”“I wish you had not brought him,” grumbled the doctor. “I say, isn’t anybody going to make a fire?”“Look here, sir!” cried Jakobsen suddenly from where he stood by a big mass of rock.“Yes! what is it?” cried the captain; and he stepped toward the man, followed by the others, to where Jakobsen pointed down to a ring of stones, within which was a quantity of dry, heathery stuff with a number of weather-worn lumps of coal.“No mistake about his having been here,” said the doctor, taking out a box of matches, which, to his astonishment, was snatched from his fingers by Watty, who dropped upon his knees, struck and shaded a match, applied it to the light stuff, which blazed up at once, and then began to fan it with his bonnet in one hand, as he kept on adding little bits of coal with the other.“She’ll soon have a ferry pig fire,” said Watty, “and she’d petter get ta steaks retty to frizzle. She can cook peautifully the noo.”This was to Jakobsen, who nodded, drew his knife, and began to cut off a haunch from one of the deer, for Johannes was looking about uneasily.“See anything of him, my man?” said the captain.“No, sir. He must be gathering coal together to help the fire; but I’ve been down both these rifts, and he is not there.”“It’s very strange,” said the captain uneasily. “So unlike him to rush off in that way.”“He was thinking of our comfort, sir,” said Johannes gravely; “and how good it would be for us to find a fire ready.”“He must be about here somewhere,” said the captain. “Shout, will you?”Johannes made the rocks echo again and again, but the only effect was the starting of the owl into flight till the cries and their echoes ceased, when it settled once more high up the mountain-side.There were several narrow, gully-like places within reach, up either of which the boy might have gone, and the question arose as to the reason for his so doing.“He would not have gone seeking for coal,” said the doctor, “because there is plenty here.”“I’m thinking, sir,” said the Norseman, “that he had no matches, and has gone to seek for a stone to use with his knife to strike a light. There can be no other reason.”“Then he will be back directly,” said the captain. “There, leave them to cook; I am uneasy about him. Let’s search those places a little farther off. We’ll take that one, Handscombe; you the other, Johannes.”They all then started off as the fire burned up, and spread quite a cloud of black smoke overhead; and the Norseman had barely reached the mouth of the ravine which he was to explore before he stopped and gave a triumphant shout as he waved his hand. The others waved their hands in answer, and turned to where he stood, with something in his grasp, peering carefully around.“His cap!” cried the captain. “What does that mean?”The Norseman shook his head.“The ground is hard as iron, sir,” he said; “there is not an impression anywhere. I’ve been looking for foot-marks.”“Surely he has not been attacked by wild beasts—bears!” cried Mr Handscombe hoarsely.“I thought of that, sir; but there is no sign.”They hailed again and again, but there was no reply save that given by the echoes, and the captain grew more uneasy.“Show me exactly where you found the cap,” he said.The Norseman trotted about fifty yards on beyond the entrance to the ravine he had been set to search, and picked up a piece of slaty coal.“Just here, sir,” he said. “I put this where I found the cap.”“Then he must have gone on in that direction; he would not have come back to go down there.”“No, sir.”“But why should he have dropped his cap?” said the doctor.“He must have been running after something, sir.”“Or something must have been running after him,” cried the doctor. “He would not have gone any farther than this unless there was some reason.”“Of course not,” said the captain testily; “but what reason could there be?”“Well, it seems to me that the best thing is to go back to the fire and wait a few minutes,” said the doctor, after standing thoughtful and silent. “He is far more likely to come to us than we are to go to him. It seems to be a mystery; but mysteries sometimes turn out very simple things. What do you say?”“I say that we’ll have a good search down this gully, and see if by any chance he has gone down here. You, Johannes, search along over our morning’s track straight away, and try and be back in half an hour at the fire. We will meet you.”The Norseman went off without a word, and the captain and doctor, after a glance in the direction of the fire to see that the others were watching them, plunged into the gloomy, rugged gully, which looked as if the mountain had been suddenly split apart, leaving at the bottom just room for two men to pick their way along abreast, while the sides ran up at once toward where the ice and snow never melted save on the surface, to send a little water trickling down to form a tiny stream, which wandered along among the stones beneath their feet. But though they pressed on, seeking hard for some sign of the lad having passed there, nothing was seen; so, when the half-hour was well up, they turned their heads in the other direction, vainly trying to make out where he could have gone, and still scanning every stone and rift overhead for signs.“I hope Johannes has had better fortune,” said the captain as they neared the entrance.“I hope so; he would be back at the fire long before now,” replied the doctor; but hardly had he spoken when a loud hail came echoing down the gully. They sent an echoing reply, and hurried their paces.“One hardly likes to shout here,” said the doctor; “the echoes are so weird and strange, they seem quite to answer you.”“Better if Steve would answer,” said the captain drily. “You said a time back you wished we had not brought him to-day. I honestly wish now that I had not brought him at all. Well, Johannes?”There was no need to speak. The heavy, solemn face of the Norseman told that he had seen nothing, and they went back to the fire in silence.There was a pleasant odour to a hungry man out in the open, that of frizzling meat, as they approached the fire; but the strange disappearance of their young companion took away all appetite, and Watty, who was smiling with satisfaction at the success of the collops he had been cooking upon skewers of wood, aschefof theal-frescokitchen, saw with intense disappointment that the captain and those with him contented themselves with taking a couple of ship’s biscuits each, and then turning away to confer as to what ought to be done.“We cannot go back to the ship without him,” said the captain.“No,” cried Johannes.“Do you think he is playing us some trick?” said the doctor.“Trick?”“I mean hiding away, and will turn up directly.”“No, he would not be so wanting in common sense,” said the captain sternly. “What pleasure could he find in so inane a prank?”“None. I ought not to have said such a thing. He would not, of course.”“No,” said Johannes decisively. “Is it possible, gentlemen, that he may have gone on, after putting the fire ready, so as to reach the boat?”“I can see no reason.”“You did not give him any order, sir—one that you have forgotten?”“No, certainly not,” said the captain; and Johannes was silent, waiting for his superior to make some suggestion, the captain being very thoughtful as he stood there with his brow knit. At last he spoke.“I cannot leave this place with the knowledge that he may have gone away for some reason that we cannot grasp and will perhaps return here by-and-by. It would be horrible for him to come and find that we had gone.”“I should stay,” said Johannes shortly. “Thank you, my man,” said the captain warmly; “and we shall stay, too. Of course you would not go, Handscombe?”“Impossible!” said the doctor quickly. “One minute, though,” he continued, looking upward toward the rugged face of the mountain, and higher still to the snow and ice. “Do you think he has climbed up yonder to pass the time till we overtook him?”“Oh no!” cried the captain; “the time was too short. There, my mind is made up.”The others looked at him; but he said no more till he had turned back to the fire.“Look here, my lads,” he said; “make a meal as quickly as you can, and then hurry on to the place where we landed. Of course you will keep a sharp look-out for Mr Steve as you go, in case he may be on the road. If you do not pass him, question the boat-keepers; and if they have not seen him, you, Jakobsen, will come back to us here.” The Norseman nodded.“I shall depend upon your making all the haste you can back to us,” continued the captain. “We may want you to help explore the place around; but I am in hopes that you will find him waiting by the boat.”Ten minutes later the men sprang up, harnessed themselves to the sledge and prepared to start, only waiting for the captain to give the word, “Go!”Just then Watty sidled up to where the captain was standing.“She’ll chust let her stay?” said the boy insinuatingly.“Stay? You stay, my lad? What for?”“She thenks she can help find him.”“Why, what makes you think that?”“Aw dinna ken,” said the lad, shaking his head. “She only thenks she can find him. She can climb and rin. Ye’ll chust let her stay?”“But you don’t want to find him,” cried the doctor. “You two were the worst of friends.”“Freends? She woodna be freend, only chust acquaint; but she’d like to find him, all the same.”“Stay,” said the captain laconically. “You may be of use; but I’m afraid that we can do nothing but wait.”Watty Links stepped back, giving himself a punch in his side, which seemed to indicate that he was intensely gratified.Then the word was given, the men tightened their track ropes, and went off with the sledge and its heavy load of fresh meat at a pretty good rate, while Captain Marsham and his companions stood gazing round, and considered what direction it would be best to take.Then a thought struck the captain, and he turned to the boy.“Look here, my lad,” he said quickly, “if you stay here I shall want you to stop by the fire while we go about searching.”“She’ll want her to stop by the fire?” said Watty in dismay.“Yes.”“What, all alane?”“Yes, while we search, so that some one may be here if Mr Stephen comes back while we are gone.”“But alane by her nainsel’?” faltered Watty.“Of course. There, be off with you. Run after the men; you can easily overtake them.”“She dinna want to go after the men,” said Watty stoutly. “She wants to find Meester Stevey, and ye said I micht stop.”“Then you must do what I want you to do, sir. Are you afraid?”“Aye, she’s a bit skeary aboot stopping here all alane.”“Off with you, then!”“Nay, she said I micht stop.”“Then you will have to stay and keep watch by the fire.”“She wants to go and find Meester Stevey.”“I have no time to argue with you, sir. Go or stay,” said the captain angrily.“She’s chust going to stop,” said Watty sullenly.“The boy has stuff in him,” said the captain to Mr Handscombe; “and he has a kind of attachment to Steve after all their bickerings and fighting. Now, then, we must have another search; which way do you recommend, Johannes?”“There is no choice, sir,” said the Norseman gravely; “one place is as likely to be right as another. There is a little valley yonder behind the coal. Shall we try that?”“Yes,” was the laconic answer; and the captain stood thinking for a few moments, and using the little glass he carried to sweep the mountain-side, and then the slopes and plain opening behind them.“She’ll pe getting ferry hungry,” said Watty, “and she’d petter eat some of the tear.”The captain shook his head.“Eat, Johannes,” he said. “You, too, Handscombe.”The Norseman nodded.“I cannot eat now, sir,” he said; “but I’ll take enough with us for all. We shall be faint and want food by-and-by.”“Yes, take some,” said the captain. “Now, my man, you will keep up the fire and have some of the meat they have left ready to cook when we bring back Mr Stephen?”“Tat’s what she was gaen to do,” said the lad quickly.“We shall not be away more than an hour, if he comes back first. There is nothing to mind.”“Put if the beast come what’ll she do?”“Beasts? They are not likely to come here.”“Put if she shall come, what then?” queried Watty sharply.“Then,” said the captain, smiling—“why, then you must climb up the cliff there, and wait till we come back.”“Yes,” said Watty thoughtfully; “tat’s the pest thing to do.”Five minutes later he was alone frizzling more of the reindeer haunch freshly cut from the bone with his big sharp knife, for the others had started off at once for the little valley Johannes had pointed out.“She’ll pe ferry lanely all alane,” said Watty, after watching till the doctor, who was last, had disappeared. “What’ll she do till they come pack?”He stood watching the fire, and thinking. Then at last:“There’ll pe plenty left for Meester Stevey when she comes, and she tidn’t get enough pefore, so she’ll pegin to eat over again.”
“Ahoy, there! Ahoy!” shouted the doctor again and again, startling the great owl from its eagle-like eerie and making the rocks echo the cry. But there was no response, and the party looked at each other for an explanation of the position.
“He has not been here,” said the captain, “and we must go back and search. How tiresome, when we are so weary!”
“I wish you had not brought him,” grumbled the doctor. “I say, isn’t anybody going to make a fire?”
“Look here, sir!” cried Jakobsen suddenly from where he stood by a big mass of rock.
“Yes! what is it?” cried the captain; and he stepped toward the man, followed by the others, to where Jakobsen pointed down to a ring of stones, within which was a quantity of dry, heathery stuff with a number of weather-worn lumps of coal.
“No mistake about his having been here,” said the doctor, taking out a box of matches, which, to his astonishment, was snatched from his fingers by Watty, who dropped upon his knees, struck and shaded a match, applied it to the light stuff, which blazed up at once, and then began to fan it with his bonnet in one hand, as he kept on adding little bits of coal with the other.
“She’ll soon have a ferry pig fire,” said Watty, “and she’d petter get ta steaks retty to frizzle. She can cook peautifully the noo.”
This was to Jakobsen, who nodded, drew his knife, and began to cut off a haunch from one of the deer, for Johannes was looking about uneasily.
“See anything of him, my man?” said the captain.
“No, sir. He must be gathering coal together to help the fire; but I’ve been down both these rifts, and he is not there.”
“It’s very strange,” said the captain uneasily. “So unlike him to rush off in that way.”
“He was thinking of our comfort, sir,” said Johannes gravely; “and how good it would be for us to find a fire ready.”
“He must be about here somewhere,” said the captain. “Shout, will you?”
Johannes made the rocks echo again and again, but the only effect was the starting of the owl into flight till the cries and their echoes ceased, when it settled once more high up the mountain-side.
There were several narrow, gully-like places within reach, up either of which the boy might have gone, and the question arose as to the reason for his so doing.
“He would not have gone seeking for coal,” said the doctor, “because there is plenty here.”
“I’m thinking, sir,” said the Norseman, “that he had no matches, and has gone to seek for a stone to use with his knife to strike a light. There can be no other reason.”
“Then he will be back directly,” said the captain. “There, leave them to cook; I am uneasy about him. Let’s search those places a little farther off. We’ll take that one, Handscombe; you the other, Johannes.”
They all then started off as the fire burned up, and spread quite a cloud of black smoke overhead; and the Norseman had barely reached the mouth of the ravine which he was to explore before he stopped and gave a triumphant shout as he waved his hand. The others waved their hands in answer, and turned to where he stood, with something in his grasp, peering carefully around.
“His cap!” cried the captain. “What does that mean?”
The Norseman shook his head.
“The ground is hard as iron, sir,” he said; “there is not an impression anywhere. I’ve been looking for foot-marks.”
“Surely he has not been attacked by wild beasts—bears!” cried Mr Handscombe hoarsely.
“I thought of that, sir; but there is no sign.”
They hailed again and again, but there was no reply save that given by the echoes, and the captain grew more uneasy.
“Show me exactly where you found the cap,” he said.
The Norseman trotted about fifty yards on beyond the entrance to the ravine he had been set to search, and picked up a piece of slaty coal.
“Just here, sir,” he said. “I put this where I found the cap.”
“Then he must have gone on in that direction; he would not have come back to go down there.”
“No, sir.”
“But why should he have dropped his cap?” said the doctor.
“He must have been running after something, sir.”
“Or something must have been running after him,” cried the doctor. “He would not have gone any farther than this unless there was some reason.”
“Of course not,” said the captain testily; “but what reason could there be?”
“Well, it seems to me that the best thing is to go back to the fire and wait a few minutes,” said the doctor, after standing thoughtful and silent. “He is far more likely to come to us than we are to go to him. It seems to be a mystery; but mysteries sometimes turn out very simple things. What do you say?”
“I say that we’ll have a good search down this gully, and see if by any chance he has gone down here. You, Johannes, search along over our morning’s track straight away, and try and be back in half an hour at the fire. We will meet you.”
The Norseman went off without a word, and the captain and doctor, after a glance in the direction of the fire to see that the others were watching them, plunged into the gloomy, rugged gully, which looked as if the mountain had been suddenly split apart, leaving at the bottom just room for two men to pick their way along abreast, while the sides ran up at once toward where the ice and snow never melted save on the surface, to send a little water trickling down to form a tiny stream, which wandered along among the stones beneath their feet. But though they pressed on, seeking hard for some sign of the lad having passed there, nothing was seen; so, when the half-hour was well up, they turned their heads in the other direction, vainly trying to make out where he could have gone, and still scanning every stone and rift overhead for signs.
“I hope Johannes has had better fortune,” said the captain as they neared the entrance.
“I hope so; he would be back at the fire long before now,” replied the doctor; but hardly had he spoken when a loud hail came echoing down the gully. They sent an echoing reply, and hurried their paces.
“One hardly likes to shout here,” said the doctor; “the echoes are so weird and strange, they seem quite to answer you.”
“Better if Steve would answer,” said the captain drily. “You said a time back you wished we had not brought him to-day. I honestly wish now that I had not brought him at all. Well, Johannes?”
There was no need to speak. The heavy, solemn face of the Norseman told that he had seen nothing, and they went back to the fire in silence.
There was a pleasant odour to a hungry man out in the open, that of frizzling meat, as they approached the fire; but the strange disappearance of their young companion took away all appetite, and Watty, who was smiling with satisfaction at the success of the collops he had been cooking upon skewers of wood, aschefof theal-frescokitchen, saw with intense disappointment that the captain and those with him contented themselves with taking a couple of ship’s biscuits each, and then turning away to confer as to what ought to be done.
“We cannot go back to the ship without him,” said the captain.
“No,” cried Johannes.
“Do you think he is playing us some trick?” said the doctor.
“Trick?”
“I mean hiding away, and will turn up directly.”
“No, he would not be so wanting in common sense,” said the captain sternly. “What pleasure could he find in so inane a prank?”
“None. I ought not to have said such a thing. He would not, of course.”
“No,” said Johannes decisively. “Is it possible, gentlemen, that he may have gone on, after putting the fire ready, so as to reach the boat?”
“I can see no reason.”
“You did not give him any order, sir—one that you have forgotten?”
“No, certainly not,” said the captain; and Johannes was silent, waiting for his superior to make some suggestion, the captain being very thoughtful as he stood there with his brow knit. At last he spoke.
“I cannot leave this place with the knowledge that he may have gone away for some reason that we cannot grasp and will perhaps return here by-and-by. It would be horrible for him to come and find that we had gone.”
“I should stay,” said Johannes shortly. “Thank you, my man,” said the captain warmly; “and we shall stay, too. Of course you would not go, Handscombe?”
“Impossible!” said the doctor quickly. “One minute, though,” he continued, looking upward toward the rugged face of the mountain, and higher still to the snow and ice. “Do you think he has climbed up yonder to pass the time till we overtook him?”
“Oh no!” cried the captain; “the time was too short. There, my mind is made up.”
The others looked at him; but he said no more till he had turned back to the fire.
“Look here, my lads,” he said; “make a meal as quickly as you can, and then hurry on to the place where we landed. Of course you will keep a sharp look-out for Mr Steve as you go, in case he may be on the road. If you do not pass him, question the boat-keepers; and if they have not seen him, you, Jakobsen, will come back to us here.” The Norseman nodded.
“I shall depend upon your making all the haste you can back to us,” continued the captain. “We may want you to help explore the place around; but I am in hopes that you will find him waiting by the boat.”
Ten minutes later the men sprang up, harnessed themselves to the sledge and prepared to start, only waiting for the captain to give the word, “Go!”
Just then Watty sidled up to where the captain was standing.
“She’ll chust let her stay?” said the boy insinuatingly.
“Stay? You stay, my lad? What for?”
“She thenks she can help find him.”
“Why, what makes you think that?”
“Aw dinna ken,” said the lad, shaking his head. “She only thenks she can find him. She can climb and rin. Ye’ll chust let her stay?”
“But you don’t want to find him,” cried the doctor. “You two were the worst of friends.”
“Freends? She woodna be freend, only chust acquaint; but she’d like to find him, all the same.”
“Stay,” said the captain laconically. “You may be of use; but I’m afraid that we can do nothing but wait.”
Watty Links stepped back, giving himself a punch in his side, which seemed to indicate that he was intensely gratified.
Then the word was given, the men tightened their track ropes, and went off with the sledge and its heavy load of fresh meat at a pretty good rate, while Captain Marsham and his companions stood gazing round, and considered what direction it would be best to take.
Then a thought struck the captain, and he turned to the boy.
“Look here, my lad,” he said quickly, “if you stay here I shall want you to stop by the fire while we go about searching.”
“She’ll want her to stop by the fire?” said Watty in dismay.
“Yes.”
“What, all alane?”
“Yes, while we search, so that some one may be here if Mr Stephen comes back while we are gone.”
“But alane by her nainsel’?” faltered Watty.
“Of course. There, be off with you. Run after the men; you can easily overtake them.”
“She dinna want to go after the men,” said Watty stoutly. “She wants to find Meester Stevey, and ye said I micht stop.”
“Then you must do what I want you to do, sir. Are you afraid?”
“Aye, she’s a bit skeary aboot stopping here all alane.”
“Off with you, then!”
“Nay, she said I micht stop.”
“Then you will have to stay and keep watch by the fire.”
“She wants to go and find Meester Stevey.”
“I have no time to argue with you, sir. Go or stay,” said the captain angrily.
“She’s chust going to stop,” said Watty sullenly.
“The boy has stuff in him,” said the captain to Mr Handscombe; “and he has a kind of attachment to Steve after all their bickerings and fighting. Now, then, we must have another search; which way do you recommend, Johannes?”
“There is no choice, sir,” said the Norseman gravely; “one place is as likely to be right as another. There is a little valley yonder behind the coal. Shall we try that?”
“Yes,” was the laconic answer; and the captain stood thinking for a few moments, and using the little glass he carried to sweep the mountain-side, and then the slopes and plain opening behind them.
“She’ll pe getting ferry hungry,” said Watty, “and she’d petter eat some of the tear.”
The captain shook his head.
“Eat, Johannes,” he said. “You, too, Handscombe.”
The Norseman nodded.
“I cannot eat now, sir,” he said; “but I’ll take enough with us for all. We shall be faint and want food by-and-by.”
“Yes, take some,” said the captain. “Now, my man, you will keep up the fire and have some of the meat they have left ready to cook when we bring back Mr Stephen?”
“Tat’s what she was gaen to do,” said the lad quickly.
“We shall not be away more than an hour, if he comes back first. There is nothing to mind.”
“Put if the beast come what’ll she do?”
“Beasts? They are not likely to come here.”
“Put if she shall come, what then?” queried Watty sharply.
“Then,” said the captain, smiling—“why, then you must climb up the cliff there, and wait till we come back.”
“Yes,” said Watty thoughtfully; “tat’s the pest thing to do.”
Five minutes later he was alone frizzling more of the reindeer haunch freshly cut from the bone with his big sharp knife, for the others had started off at once for the little valley Johannes had pointed out.
“She’ll pe ferry lanely all alane,” said Watty, after watching till the doctor, who was last, had disappeared. “What’ll she do till they come pack?”
He stood watching the fire, and thinking. Then at last:
“There’ll pe plenty left for Meester Stevey when she comes, and she tidn’t get enough pefore, so she’ll pegin to eat over again.”
Chapter Thirty Two.Steve’s Adventure.And all this time the object of so much solicitude was as eagerly on the watch for help as his friends were ready to supply it.When the idea struck him that it would be a capital thing to do to run on forward to the foot of the coal cliff and start a fire ready for the time when the sledge was laboriously dragged up, he did not pause to consider whether it would be wise to separate himself from his friends, but darted off at full speed, and in due time reached the spot. He hurriedly built up a number of stones into a circle, and began to collect dry, twiggy stuff to start the blaze, wishing the while that he could see a fir wood with its ample supply of dead, turpentiny branches. But the twigs were strong and promised to burn well, so he proceeded next to collect the weather-worn fragments of coal, which had from time to time crumbled down from above, rent away by the frost. These were scattered here and there, many of them resembling stone; but he soon obtained enough to begin with, and bore them to his rough fireplace, over which he saw in imagination, as he worked, delicious steaks of deer frizzling.He had pressed the bushy scrub down hard to make it burn without flaring away, glanced at the pieces of coal ready to hand, and now began to search his pocket for the little brass box of matches he carried, when as he knelt down there were footsteps behind him and a heavy breathing.“That you, Watty?” he said, without looking round. “Bother the box! Here, Watty, got any matches?”Phoo!A deep-toned expiration of the breath was the answer, and the boy turned his head, to find that, not three yards from where he knelt, a huge bear, whose long fur had quite a pale golden tinge in the sunshine, was literally towering over him upon its hind legs with fore paws extended as if to catch him.Steve’s spring over the fireplace was of a kind that, improved by practice, was sufficiently fine to promise his taking rank as the greatest standing jumper of his time, while his speed in running certainly merited praise as he found that the great beast, which must have stood up some seven feet, had now dropped on all fours and was in full chase.For choice Steve would have run toward his friends, but he had no option. The bear blocked the way in that direction; on his right there was the rapid rise of the mountain; on the left the ground was broken and boggy; before him the way open toward the mouth of the valley where they had left the boat, and naturally this way he ran, hoping that the bear would soon tire of the pursuit, and believing in his power to run more swiftly.The way was not good, for it was encumbered with blocks of stone that had fallen from above; but Steve felt that they must be as bad for the bear as for him, and he pressed on, taking off his bonnet to hold it in one hand as he ran.He glanced over his shoulder, and there was the bear appearing to shuffle along clumsily, but getting over the ground at a great rate of speed, which told the lad that he need do his best; but he consoled himself with the belief that, unless terribly hungry, the bear would not follow him for long; on the other hand, if famished, it would keep on and tire him out, and then—Steve obstinately refused to let his imagination carry him any farther—the thoughts were too horrible; and, mentally vowing that if he managed to get clear away he would never feel any compunction in helping to shoot a bear again, but would do his best to become the owner of its rich, whitish fur, he tore on as hard as he could go, fully conscious of the fact that the bear, though some yards behind, was determined to tire him out and run him down.The way now became more open, and as he raced on he just glanced at the opening to the narrow ravine on his right, for there was no temptation to leave the broad, open way for a stone-encumbered defile.No temptation then; but the next moment there was, for he was not far past enjoying the satisfaction of distancing his pursuer, when his heart sank, and a curdling sensation of horror so convulsed him that he dropped his cap, and pressed his hands to his throat; for there, fifty yards in front, and coming toward him, was a second bear, into whose jaws he was running hard.Danger behind, danger before, and between them death without mercy. There was only one way out of the peril, and that was to run back and turn up the narrow defile.It was a desperate venture, for the first bear was lumbering along and had nearly reached the turning; in fact, would have passed it before the boy could reach the haven of comparative safety if it had not stopped suddenly in surprise at seeing the quarry so suddenly turn round and seem to charge. Instead, then, of running to meet him, the bear suddenly raised itself up, and, with outstretched claws, awaited Steve’s approach. It was all over in a moment or two: the boy had to go so close to the waiting bear that the beast struck at him with its right paw, and nearly touched the boy’s shoulder; but the next instant he was beyond reach, and running up the defile.There was no bounding over the ground, though, here, for the place was, as has been shown, encumbered with fallen blocks; and Steve’s heart, which the moment before rose with a leap at the way in which he had eluded the bears, sank once more like lead, for he knew enough of the natural history of these beasts and their construction to feel that, though they had left the ice for a prowl among the rocks, they would be thoroughly at home over such ground as he was traversing.“I’ve only put it off for a bit,” he said to himself; “and they’ll run me down.”This thought only roused him.“They shan’t find it an easy task, though,” he muttered, and, forced as he was to slacken his speed, he had the satisfaction of seeing, on glancing back along the gloomy passage, that the bears were also compelled to slacken their pace and climb over intervening rocks as he had done. And it was plural, for the second one had joined the first, and they were coming steadily on, their light coats showing with terrible plainness in the gloom among the rocks.The breathless rush, then, was over; but the progress, though slow, was terribly hard work, and that which depressed the lad most was to see that the great brutes made no hurry or fuss over their pursuit, but came deliberately on, as if quite sure of the result, and prepared to follow even if it were for days.“And I thought it so glorious to be always daylight and sunshine,” said Steve. Oh, if it would only come on now the blackest, darkest night ever known, so that he could take advantage of the many hiding-places he could see right and left, and crawl into one of them till the bears had passed!He looked back just as this idea crossed his mind, and once more a chill of dread came over him. For the defile was a little more open at the top just then, so that he could see the actions of the bears plainly as they came on some sixty yards behind; and he grasped the knowledge now that they were not hunting him by sight, but by scent, and that though, as a rule, they came along with their noses in the air, every now and then they lowered their muzzles and snuffled eagerly about some block of stone, uttering low, pig-like grunts.“Why, that’s where my hot, moist hands touched,” said Steve in dismay. “Darkness would be of no use if they hunt like that.”For some minutes now the boy’s legs felt heavy and began to drag, his breath came short, and the feeling of dread rose round him as if it were water in which he was about to drown.But this sensation did not last. A glance back showed that, if anything, he was farther in advance than before, and, taking heart at this, he pressed on, leaping little gaps, climbing over rocks, and descending at times to where the little stream trickled when the ground was more level.All this while the fugitive was conscious that he was ascending, the ravine being, as it were, a huge gash riven in the mountain-side. And this knowledge that he was ascending would have depressed his spirits once more had he not set his teeth and tried manfully to keep before him the one idea that he must and would escape.The depressing sensation was caused by the thought that sooner or later he would come to the end of the stones and rocks and reach the snow; then, higher up the mountain-side, come upon the ice itself, where the bears would be quite in their element and rapidly run him down.“But they have not done that yet,” muttered Steve, as a look back reassured him; and he steadily went on walking and climbing.He knew that his friends must have reached the bottom of the coal cliff, and be wondering why he had run on.“They’ll be sure to guess it was to light a fire,” he said; but as he said it he wondered whether they would find the place he had chosen for the purpose.“Sure to,” he thought; “and as the fire is not alight they will begin to hunt for me, and come to my help at last. Of course; they will very soon find my bonnet.” But, even as he thought this, he recalled that it was not inside the mouth of the defile, but beyond; and his spirits sank again, for he thought out exactly what happened: that his friends would come some distance up the ravine in search of him, find no traces, and go back.Plenty of ideas suggestive of the means of escape flashed through the boy’s brain as he toiled on.One was the possibility of climbing up some precipitous part of the gully as high as he could get, and seating himself there to wait until the bears were wearied out and left him.But he gave this idea up for more than one reason.The bears, he felt, would scent their way right up to the spot where he began to climb, and he might slip and fall headlong into their hungry jaws, to be literally chopped up between them as they would chop up a seal.Another reason was that the bears might, with all their deliberation of movement, prove to be far better climbers than he; and, in addition, supposing they were not, and he got into a safe spot where they could not reach him, might not they sit down patiently to wait, as wild beasts will for their food, till, chilled by the cold and utterly wearied out, he became an easy prey?That was one of the ideas on which he pondered as he climbed up higher and higher. The other was as to the possibility of his being able to reach the very top of the ravine, high up amongst the snow and ice, where it became blended with the mountain, and, having thus climbed high enough, begin to descend on the other side of the buttress naturally formed by one side of the gully. Then he would at every step be getting nearer and nearer to his friends, who must, he knew, be in search of him.This was the idea which gave him hope, and sent a thrill of fresh strength through his weary frame. A short time before he could only think of the certainty of the bears running him down at last in their untiring pursuit, as sooner or later,ifhe were always getting farther from help, they were bound to do. Now he could climb on with a feeling that an end to his sufferings was in sight.And all this while—how long he could not tell—the bears came steadily on, never faster, never slower, always in the same steady, untiring manner, seeming to be perfectly certain of overtaking their prey after a time; but, as the slope began to grow more steep, so did the progress of pursued and pursuers become slow.As Steve climbed on, forced by the ruggedness of the path to use his hands more and more frequently, so did the wildness of the defile increase, till, after hours of toil, the patches of snow which he had long reached gave place to a slope of pure white crystals, into which his feet began to sink, making the labour of walking more heavy.On still, though, plod, plod, till the loose drift was passed as if in a nightmare, and he felt as if his legs were moving mechanically. How long this had been going on he could not tell, for at last the horror of the pursuit had numbed his brain, and he could not think of anything but that he must go on, and that at last he was out of the ravine and away to the right of the ridge, so that at any moment he might begin to descend and get down in another place.But he could not attempt to descend yet, but must keep on right up into the regions of this eternal snow, where all was silent—a silence which would have filled his mind with awe but for the stunned sensation of utter weariness.Still there was one flash of hope as he crept on, drawing himself over the ice crags on hands and knees. He had looked back below him at his pursuers, and his heart leaped, for there was only one. At first he could not believe it true, but a second look back confirmed the first impression. One of the bears had given up the pursuit; but the other was as persevering as ever. But it was hopeful, and gave Steve fresh energy; for if one was tired out, it was possible to weary the other.If he could have begun to descend, he would have done so now; but he dared not attempt it, for not only was thebear too close, but the steepness of the ascent had brought it right beneath him.And now, for the first time, the great animal seemed to see him, and increased its pace to such an extent that Steve felt all was over. He looked up, and the way was steeper, his only course being over an ice-covered face of rock far out of the perpendicular, but so smooth that the only way up was by taking advantage of the cracks and rifts which seamed it like a net.“My last chance,” thought Steve, whose mind in this terrible emergency had suddenly grown clearer. He gave one glance below him, to see that the bear was not many yards away, and he could even see the gleam of its little, reddish-looking eyes. Then he buckled to at the climb, and got up foot by foot at a rate which surprised him. But the bear was as alert. When the lad was twenty or thirty feet up the animal had nearly reached the foot, and by the time the pursued had mounted another twenty feet the great brute was close up and raised itself on its hind quarters to mount.A cry that he could not suppress rose to Steve’s lips, for, to his despair, his last hope died away. He had climbed on desperately, finding the ice-covered rock grow steeper and steeper, till, as he raised one foot to take the next step, there was no crevice or crack to give it hold, and it glided over the ice again and again. He reached to the left, but there was no handhold there. To the right it was the same, and—horror of horrors!—he knew now that he had clambered to a point which it was beyond human power to exceed, and this at a time when the bear was five-and-twenty feet below, and mounting fast.If he could reach that ledge just above him with his hands, he might draw himself up; but could he? There was only one way, by making a leap, and this with so little foothold. But a low growl decided him, and, pulling himself together, he stooped, and then sprang up with all his might.Hurrah! He reached the ledge with his crooked hands, and tried hard to drive his toes into the ice as he hung. But only for a few seconds. The sharp edge of the ledge was of ice of the most glassy nature, and Steve closed his eyes, for he had done all that mortal could do; his fingers glided over the angle to which they had for a moment or two clung, and then, as he drew himself up, he was falling like a ball, and as swift right on to the climbing bear.
And all this time the object of so much solicitude was as eagerly on the watch for help as his friends were ready to supply it.
When the idea struck him that it would be a capital thing to do to run on forward to the foot of the coal cliff and start a fire ready for the time when the sledge was laboriously dragged up, he did not pause to consider whether it would be wise to separate himself from his friends, but darted off at full speed, and in due time reached the spot. He hurriedly built up a number of stones into a circle, and began to collect dry, twiggy stuff to start the blaze, wishing the while that he could see a fir wood with its ample supply of dead, turpentiny branches. But the twigs were strong and promised to burn well, so he proceeded next to collect the weather-worn fragments of coal, which had from time to time crumbled down from above, rent away by the frost. These were scattered here and there, many of them resembling stone; but he soon obtained enough to begin with, and bore them to his rough fireplace, over which he saw in imagination, as he worked, delicious steaks of deer frizzling.
He had pressed the bushy scrub down hard to make it burn without flaring away, glanced at the pieces of coal ready to hand, and now began to search his pocket for the little brass box of matches he carried, when as he knelt down there were footsteps behind him and a heavy breathing.
“That you, Watty?” he said, without looking round. “Bother the box! Here, Watty, got any matches?”Phoo!
A deep-toned expiration of the breath was the answer, and the boy turned his head, to find that, not three yards from where he knelt, a huge bear, whose long fur had quite a pale golden tinge in the sunshine, was literally towering over him upon its hind legs with fore paws extended as if to catch him.
Steve’s spring over the fireplace was of a kind that, improved by practice, was sufficiently fine to promise his taking rank as the greatest standing jumper of his time, while his speed in running certainly merited praise as he found that the great beast, which must have stood up some seven feet, had now dropped on all fours and was in full chase.
For choice Steve would have run toward his friends, but he had no option. The bear blocked the way in that direction; on his right there was the rapid rise of the mountain; on the left the ground was broken and boggy; before him the way open toward the mouth of the valley where they had left the boat, and naturally this way he ran, hoping that the bear would soon tire of the pursuit, and believing in his power to run more swiftly.
The way was not good, for it was encumbered with blocks of stone that had fallen from above; but Steve felt that they must be as bad for the bear as for him, and he pressed on, taking off his bonnet to hold it in one hand as he ran.
He glanced over his shoulder, and there was the bear appearing to shuffle along clumsily, but getting over the ground at a great rate of speed, which told the lad that he need do his best; but he consoled himself with the belief that, unless terribly hungry, the bear would not follow him for long; on the other hand, if famished, it would keep on and tire him out, and then—
Steve obstinately refused to let his imagination carry him any farther—the thoughts were too horrible; and, mentally vowing that if he managed to get clear away he would never feel any compunction in helping to shoot a bear again, but would do his best to become the owner of its rich, whitish fur, he tore on as hard as he could go, fully conscious of the fact that the bear, though some yards behind, was determined to tire him out and run him down.
The way now became more open, and as he raced on he just glanced at the opening to the narrow ravine on his right, for there was no temptation to leave the broad, open way for a stone-encumbered defile.
No temptation then; but the next moment there was, for he was not far past enjoying the satisfaction of distancing his pursuer, when his heart sank, and a curdling sensation of horror so convulsed him that he dropped his cap, and pressed his hands to his throat; for there, fifty yards in front, and coming toward him, was a second bear, into whose jaws he was running hard.
Danger behind, danger before, and between them death without mercy. There was only one way out of the peril, and that was to run back and turn up the narrow defile.
It was a desperate venture, for the first bear was lumbering along and had nearly reached the turning; in fact, would have passed it before the boy could reach the haven of comparative safety if it had not stopped suddenly in surprise at seeing the quarry so suddenly turn round and seem to charge. Instead, then, of running to meet him, the bear suddenly raised itself up, and, with outstretched claws, awaited Steve’s approach. It was all over in a moment or two: the boy had to go so close to the waiting bear that the beast struck at him with its right paw, and nearly touched the boy’s shoulder; but the next instant he was beyond reach, and running up the defile.
There was no bounding over the ground, though, here, for the place was, as has been shown, encumbered with fallen blocks; and Steve’s heart, which the moment before rose with a leap at the way in which he had eluded the bears, sank once more like lead, for he knew enough of the natural history of these beasts and their construction to feel that, though they had left the ice for a prowl among the rocks, they would be thoroughly at home over such ground as he was traversing.
“I’ve only put it off for a bit,” he said to himself; “and they’ll run me down.”
This thought only roused him.
“They shan’t find it an easy task, though,” he muttered, and, forced as he was to slacken his speed, he had the satisfaction of seeing, on glancing back along the gloomy passage, that the bears were also compelled to slacken their pace and climb over intervening rocks as he had done. And it was plural, for the second one had joined the first, and they were coming steadily on, their light coats showing with terrible plainness in the gloom among the rocks.
The breathless rush, then, was over; but the progress, though slow, was terribly hard work, and that which depressed the lad most was to see that the great brutes made no hurry or fuss over their pursuit, but came deliberately on, as if quite sure of the result, and prepared to follow even if it were for days.
“And I thought it so glorious to be always daylight and sunshine,” said Steve. Oh, if it would only come on now the blackest, darkest night ever known, so that he could take advantage of the many hiding-places he could see right and left, and crawl into one of them till the bears had passed!
He looked back just as this idea crossed his mind, and once more a chill of dread came over him. For the defile was a little more open at the top just then, so that he could see the actions of the bears plainly as they came on some sixty yards behind; and he grasped the knowledge now that they were not hunting him by sight, but by scent, and that though, as a rule, they came along with their noses in the air, every now and then they lowered their muzzles and snuffled eagerly about some block of stone, uttering low, pig-like grunts.
“Why, that’s where my hot, moist hands touched,” said Steve in dismay. “Darkness would be of no use if they hunt like that.”
For some minutes now the boy’s legs felt heavy and began to drag, his breath came short, and the feeling of dread rose round him as if it were water in which he was about to drown.
But this sensation did not last. A glance back showed that, if anything, he was farther in advance than before, and, taking heart at this, he pressed on, leaping little gaps, climbing over rocks, and descending at times to where the little stream trickled when the ground was more level.
All this while the fugitive was conscious that he was ascending, the ravine being, as it were, a huge gash riven in the mountain-side. And this knowledge that he was ascending would have depressed his spirits once more had he not set his teeth and tried manfully to keep before him the one idea that he must and would escape.
The depressing sensation was caused by the thought that sooner or later he would come to the end of the stones and rocks and reach the snow; then, higher up the mountain-side, come upon the ice itself, where the bears would be quite in their element and rapidly run him down.
“But they have not done that yet,” muttered Steve, as a look back reassured him; and he steadily went on walking and climbing.
He knew that his friends must have reached the bottom of the coal cliff, and be wondering why he had run on.
“They’ll be sure to guess it was to light a fire,” he said; but as he said it he wondered whether they would find the place he had chosen for the purpose.
“Sure to,” he thought; “and as the fire is not alight they will begin to hunt for me, and come to my help at last. Of course; they will very soon find my bonnet.” But, even as he thought this, he recalled that it was not inside the mouth of the defile, but beyond; and his spirits sank again, for he thought out exactly what happened: that his friends would come some distance up the ravine in search of him, find no traces, and go back.
Plenty of ideas suggestive of the means of escape flashed through the boy’s brain as he toiled on.
One was the possibility of climbing up some precipitous part of the gully as high as he could get, and seating himself there to wait until the bears were wearied out and left him.
But he gave this idea up for more than one reason.
The bears, he felt, would scent their way right up to the spot where he began to climb, and he might slip and fall headlong into their hungry jaws, to be literally chopped up between them as they would chop up a seal.
Another reason was that the bears might, with all their deliberation of movement, prove to be far better climbers than he; and, in addition, supposing they were not, and he got into a safe spot where they could not reach him, might not they sit down patiently to wait, as wild beasts will for their food, till, chilled by the cold and utterly wearied out, he became an easy prey?
That was one of the ideas on which he pondered as he climbed up higher and higher. The other was as to the possibility of his being able to reach the very top of the ravine, high up amongst the snow and ice, where it became blended with the mountain, and, having thus climbed high enough, begin to descend on the other side of the buttress naturally formed by one side of the gully. Then he would at every step be getting nearer and nearer to his friends, who must, he knew, be in search of him.
This was the idea which gave him hope, and sent a thrill of fresh strength through his weary frame. A short time before he could only think of the certainty of the bears running him down at last in their untiring pursuit, as sooner or later,ifhe were always getting farther from help, they were bound to do. Now he could climb on with a feeling that an end to his sufferings was in sight.
And all this while—how long he could not tell—the bears came steadily on, never faster, never slower, always in the same steady, untiring manner, seeming to be perfectly certain of overtaking their prey after a time; but, as the slope began to grow more steep, so did the progress of pursued and pursuers become slow.
As Steve climbed on, forced by the ruggedness of the path to use his hands more and more frequently, so did the wildness of the defile increase, till, after hours of toil, the patches of snow which he had long reached gave place to a slope of pure white crystals, into which his feet began to sink, making the labour of walking more heavy.
On still, though, plod, plod, till the loose drift was passed as if in a nightmare, and he felt as if his legs were moving mechanically. How long this had been going on he could not tell, for at last the horror of the pursuit had numbed his brain, and he could not think of anything but that he must go on, and that at last he was out of the ravine and away to the right of the ridge, so that at any moment he might begin to descend and get down in another place.
But he could not attempt to descend yet, but must keep on right up into the regions of this eternal snow, where all was silent—a silence which would have filled his mind with awe but for the stunned sensation of utter weariness.
Still there was one flash of hope as he crept on, drawing himself over the ice crags on hands and knees. He had looked back below him at his pursuers, and his heart leaped, for there was only one. At first he could not believe it true, but a second look back confirmed the first impression. One of the bears had given up the pursuit; but the other was as persevering as ever. But it was hopeful, and gave Steve fresh energy; for if one was tired out, it was possible to weary the other.
If he could have begun to descend, he would have done so now; but he dared not attempt it, for not only was thebear too close, but the steepness of the ascent had brought it right beneath him.
And now, for the first time, the great animal seemed to see him, and increased its pace to such an extent that Steve felt all was over. He looked up, and the way was steeper, his only course being over an ice-covered face of rock far out of the perpendicular, but so smooth that the only way up was by taking advantage of the cracks and rifts which seamed it like a net.
“My last chance,” thought Steve, whose mind in this terrible emergency had suddenly grown clearer. He gave one glance below him, to see that the bear was not many yards away, and he could even see the gleam of its little, reddish-looking eyes. Then he buckled to at the climb, and got up foot by foot at a rate which surprised him. But the bear was as alert. When the lad was twenty or thirty feet up the animal had nearly reached the foot, and by the time the pursued had mounted another twenty feet the great brute was close up and raised itself on its hind quarters to mount.
A cry that he could not suppress rose to Steve’s lips, for, to his despair, his last hope died away. He had climbed on desperately, finding the ice-covered rock grow steeper and steeper, till, as he raised one foot to take the next step, there was no crevice or crack to give it hold, and it glided over the ice again and again. He reached to the left, but there was no handhold there. To the right it was the same, and—horror of horrors!—he knew now that he had clambered to a point which it was beyond human power to exceed, and this at a time when the bear was five-and-twenty feet below, and mounting fast.
If he could reach that ledge just above him with his hands, he might draw himself up; but could he? There was only one way, by making a leap, and this with so little foothold. But a low growl decided him, and, pulling himself together, he stooped, and then sprang up with all his might.
Hurrah! He reached the ledge with his crooked hands, and tried hard to drive his toes into the ice as he hung. But only for a few seconds. The sharp edge of the ledge was of ice of the most glassy nature, and Steve closed his eyes, for he had done all that mortal could do; his fingers glided over the angle to which they had for a moment or two clung, and then, as he drew himself up, he was falling like a ball, and as swift right on to the climbing bear.