The boat turned out into the broad channel and into Goose Bay. There was little or no wind, and when the sun broke gloriously over the white-capped peaks of the Mealy Mountains it shone upon a sea as smooth as a mill pond, with scarcely a ripple to disturb it. The men worked laboriously and silently at their oars. A harbour seal pushed its head above the water, looked at the toiling men curiously for a moment, then disappeared below the surface, leaving an eddy where it had been. Gulls soared overhead, their white wings and bodies looking very pure and beautiful in the sunlight. High in the air a flock of ducks passed to the southward. From somewhere in the distance came the honk of a wild goose. The air was laden with the scent of the great forest of spruce and balsam fir, whose dark green barrier came down from the rock-bound, hazy hills in the distance to the very water's edge, where tamarack groves, turnedyellow by the early frosts, reflected the sunlight like settings of rich gold.
"'Tis fine! 'tis grand!" exclaimed Bob at last, as he rested a moment on his oars to drink in the scene and breathe deeply the rare, fragrant atmosphere. "'Tis sure a fine world we're in."
"Aye, 'tis fine enough now," remarked Ed, stopping to cut pieces from a plug of tobacco, and then cramming them into his pipe. "But," he continued, prophetically, as he struck a match and held it between his hands for the sulphur to burn off, "bide a bit, an' you'll find it ugly enough when th' snows blow t' smother ye, an' yer racquets sink with ye t' yer knees, and th' frost freezes yer face and the ice sticks t' yer very eyelashes until ye can't see—then," continued he, puffing vigorously at his pipe, "then 'tis a sorry world—aye, a sorry an' a hard world for folks t' make a livin' in."
It was mid-forenoon when they reached Rabbit Island—a small wooded island where the passing dog drivers always stop in winter to make tea and snatch a mouthful of hard biscuit while the dogs have a half hour's rest.
"An' here we'll boil th' kettle," suggestedDick. "I'm fair starved with an early breakfast and the pull at the oars."
"We're ready enough for that," assented Bill. "Th' wind's prickin' up a bit from th' east'rd, an' when we starts I thinks we may hoist the sails."
"Yes, th' wind's prickin' up an' we'll have a fair breeze t' help us past th' Traverspine, I hopes."
The landing was made. Bob and Ed each took an axe to cut into suitable lengths some of the plentiful dead wood lying right to hand, while Dick whittled some shavings and started the fire. Bill brought a kettle (a tin pail) of water. Then he cut a green sapling about five feet in length, sharpened one end of it, and stuck it firmly into the earth, slanting the upper end into position over the fire. On this he hung the kettle of water, so that the blaze shot up around it. In a little while the water boiled, and with a stick for a lifter he set it on the ground and threw in a handful of tea. This they sweetened with molasses and drank out of tin cups while they munched hardtack.
Bill's prophecy as to the wind proved a true one, and in the half hour while they were at theirluncheon so good a breeze had sprang up that when they left Rabbit Island both sails were hoisted.
Early in the afternoon they passed the Traverspine River, and now with some current to oppose made slower, though with the fair wind, good progress, and when the sun dipped behind the western hills and they halted to make their night camp they were ten miles above the Traverspine.
To men accustomed to travelling in the bush, camp is quickly made. The country here was well wooded, and the forest beneath covered with a thick carpet of white moss. Bob and Bill selected two trees between which they stretched the ridge pole of a tent, and a few moments sufficed to cut pegs and pin down the canvas. Then spruce boughs were broken and spread over the damp moss and their shelter was ready for occupancy. Meanwhile Ed had cut fire-wood while Dick started the fire, using for kindlings a handful of dry, dead sprigs from the branches of a spruce tree, and by the time Bob and Bill had the tent pitched it was blazing cheerily, and the appetizing smell of fried pork and hot tea was in the air. When supper wascooked Ed threw on some more sticks, for the evening was frosty, and then they sat down to luxuriate in its genial warmth and eat their simple meal.
For an hour they chatted, while the fire burned low, casting a narrowing circle of light upon the black wilderness surrounding the little camp. Some wild thing of the forest stole noiselessly to the edge of the outer darkness, its eyes shining like two balls of fire, then it quietly slunk away unobserved. Above the fir tops the blue dome of heaven seemed very near and the million stars that glittered there almost close enough to pluck from their azure setting. With a weird, uncanny light the aurora flashed its changing colours restlessly across the sky. No sound save the low voices of the men as they talked, disturbed the great silence of the wilderness.
Many a time had Bob camped and hunted with his father near the coast, in the forest to the south of Wolf Bight, but he had never been far from home and with this his first long journey into the interior, a new world and new life were opening to him. The solitude had never impressed him before as it did now. The smokeof the camp-fire and the perfume of the forest had never smelled so sweet. The romance of the trail was working its way into his soul, and to him the land seemed filled with wonderful things that he was to search out and uncover for himself. The harrowing tales that the men were telling of winter storms and narrow escapes from wild animals had no terror for him. He only looked forward to meeting and conquering these obstacles for himself. Young blood loves adventure, and Bob's blood was strong and red and active.
When the fire died away and only a heap of glowing red coals remained, Dick knocked the ashes from his pipe, and rising with a yawn, suggested:
"I 'lows it's time t' turn in. We'll have t' be movin' early in th' mornin' an' we makes th' Muskrat Portage."
Then they went to the tent and rolled into their blankets and were soon sleeping as only men can sleep who breathe the pure, free air of God's great out-of-doors.
Before noon the next day they reached the Muskrat Falls, where the torrent, with a great roar, pours down seventy feet over the solidrocks. An Indian portage trail leads around the falls and meets the river again half a mile farther up. At its beginning it ascends a steep incline two hundred feet, then it runs away, comparatively level, to its upper end where it drops abruptly to the water's edge. To pull a heavy boat up this incline and over the half mile to the launching place above, was no small undertaking.
Everything was unloaded, the craft brought ashore, and ropes which were carried for the purpose attached to the bow. Then round sticks of wood, for rollers, were placed under it, and while Dick and Ed hauled, Bob and Bill pushed and lifted and kept the rollers straight. In this manner, with infinite labour, it was worked to the top of the hill and step by step hauled over the portage to the place where it was to enter the water again. It was nearly sunset when they completed their task and turned back to bring up their things from below.
They had retraced their steps but a few yards when Dick, who was ahead, darted off to the left of the trail with the exclamation:
"An' here's some fresh meat for supper."
It was a porcupine lumbering awkwardly away. He easily killed it with a stick, andpicking it up by its tail, was about to turn back into the trail when a fresh axe cutting caught his eye.
"Now who's been here, lads?" said he, looking at it closely. "None o' th' planters has been inside of th' Traverspine, an' no Mountaineers has left th' post yet."
The others joined him and scrutinized the cutting, then looked for other human signs. Near by they found the charred wood of a recent fire and some spruce boughs that had served for a bed within a day or two, which was proved by their freshly broken ends. It had been the couch of a single man.
"Micmac John, sure!" said Ed.
"An' what's he doin' here?" asked Bill. "He has no traps or huntin' grounds handy t' this."
"I'm thinkin' 'tis no good he's after," said Dick. "'Tis sure he, an' he'll be givin' us trouble, stealin' our fur an' maybe worse. But ifIgets hold o' he, he'll be sorry for his meddlin', if meddlin' he's after, an' it's sure all he's here for."
They hurried back to pitch camp, and when the fire was made the porcupine was thrown upon the blaze, and allowed to remain there until its quills and hair were scorched to a cinder.Then Dick, who superintended the cooking, pulled it out, scraped it and dressed it. On either side of the fire he drove a stake and across the tops of these stakes tied a cross pole. From the centre of this pole the porcupine was suspended by a string, so that it hung low and near enough to the fire to roast nicely, while it was twirled around on the string. It was soon sending out a delicious odour, and in an hour was quite done, and ready to be served. A dainty morsel it was to the hungry voyageurs, resembling in some respects roast pig, and every scrap of it they devoured.
The next morning all the goods were carried over the portage, and a wearisome fight began against the current of the river, which was so swift above this point as to preclude sailing or even rowing. A rope was tied to the bow of the boat and on this three of the men hauled, while the other stood in the craft and with a pole kept it clear of rocks and other obstructions. For several days this method of travel continued—tracking it is called. Sometimes the men were forced along the sides of almost perpendicular banks, often they waded in the water and frequently met obstacles like projecting cliffs,around which they passed with the greatest difficulty.
At the Porcupine Rapids everything was lashed securely into the boat, as a precaution in case of accident, but they overcame the rapid without mishap, and finally they reached Gull Island Lake, a broadening of the river in safety, and were able to resume their oars again. It was a great relief after the long siege of tracking, and Ed voiced the feelings of all in the remark:
"Pullin' at th' oars is hard when ye has nothin' harder t' do, but trackin's so much harder, pullin' seems easy alongside un."
"Aye," said Dick, "th' thing a man's doin's always the hardest work un ever done. 'Tis because ye forgets how hard th' things is that ye've done afore."
"An' it's just the same in winter. When a frosty spell comes folks thinks 'tis th' frostiest time they ever knew. If 'twere, th' winters, I 'lows'd be gettin' so cold folks couldn't stand un. I recollects one frosty spell——"
"Now none o' yer yarns, Ed. Th' Lord'll be strikin' ye dead in His angersome daywhen ye're tellin' what ain't so."
"I tells no yarns as ain't so, an' I can proveun all—leastways I could a proved this un, only it so happens as I were alone. As I was sayin', 'twere so cold one night last winter that when I was boilin' o' my kettle an' left th' door o' th' tilt open for a bit while I steps outside, th' wind blowin' in on th' kettle all th' time hits th' steam at th' spout—an' what does ye think I sees when I comes in?"
"Ye sees steam, o' course, an' what else could ye see, now?"
"'Twere so cold—that wind—blowin' right on th' spout where th' steam comes out, when I comes in I looks an' I can't believe what I sees myself. Well, now, I sees th' steam froze solid, an' a string o' ice hangin' from th' spout right down t' th' floor o' th' tilt, an' th' kettle boilin' merry all th' time. That's what I sees, an'——"
"Now stop yer lyin', Ed. Ye knows no un——"
"A bear! A bear!" interrupted Bob, excitedly. "See un! See un there comin' straight to that rock!"
Sure enough, a couple Of hundred yards away a big black bear was lumbering right down towards them, and if it kept its course would pass a large boulder standing some fifty yardsback from the river bank. The animal had not seen the boat nor scented the men, for the wind was blowing from it towards them.
"Run her in here," said Bob, indicating a bit of bank out of the bear's range of vision, "an' let me ashore t' have a chance at un."
The instant the boat touched land he grabbed his gun—a single-barrelled, muzzle loader—bounded noiselessly ashore, and stooping low gained the shelter of the boulder unobserved.
The unsuspecting bear came leisurely on, bent, no doubt, upon securing a drink of water to wash down a feast of blueberries of which it had just partaken, and seemingly occupied by the pleasant reveries that follow a good meal and go with a full stomach. Bob could hear it coming now, and raised his gun ready to give it the load the moment it passed the rock. Then, suddenly, he remembered that he had loaded the gun that morning with shot, when hunting a flock of partridges, and had failed to reload with ball. To kill a bear with a partridge load of shot was out of the question, and to wound the bear at close quarters was dangerous, for a wounded bear with its enemy within reach is pretty sure to retaliate.
Just at the instant this thought flashed through Bob's mind the big black side of the bear appeared not ten feet from the muzzle of his gun, and before the lad realized it he had pulled the trigger.
Bob did not stop to see the result of the shot, but ran at full speed towards the boat. The bear gave an angry growl, and for a moment bit at the wound in its side, then in a rage took after him.
It was not over fifty yards to the boat, and though Bob had a few seconds the start, the bear seemed likely to catch him before he could reach it, for clumsy though they are in appearance, they are fast travellers when occasion demands. Half the distance was covered in a jiffy, but the bear was almost at his heels. A few more leaps and he would be within reach of safety. He could fairly feel the bear's breath. Then his foot caught a projecting branch and he fell at full length directly in front of the infuriated animal.
When Bob went ashore Dick followed as far as a clump of bushes at the top of the bank below which the boat was concealed, and crouching there witnessed Bob's flight from the bear, and was very close to him when he fell. Dick had already drawn a bead on the animal's head, and just at the moment Bob stumbled fired. The bear made one blind strike with his paw and then fell forward, its momentum sending it upon Bob's sprawling legs, Dick laughed uproariously at the boy as he extricated himself.
"Well, now," he roared, "'twere as fine a race as I ever see—as Ieversee—an' ye were handy t' winnin' but for th' tumble. A rare fine race."
Bob was rather shamefaced, for an old hunter would scarcely have forgotten himself to such an extent as to go bear hunting with a partridge load in his gun, and he did not like to be laughed at.
"Anyhow," said he, "I let un have un first. An' I led un down where you could shoot un. An' he's a good fat un," he commented kicking the carcass.
Ed and Bill had arrived now and all hands went to work at once skinning the bear.
"Speakin' o' bein' chased by bears," remarked Ed as they worked, "onct I were chased pretty hard myself an' that time I come handy t' bein' done for sure enough."
"An' how were that?" asked Bob.
"'Twere one winter an' I were tendin' my trail. I stops at noon t' boil th' kettle, an' just has th' fire goin' fine an' th' water over when all t' a sudden I hears a noise behind me and turnin' sees a black bear right handy t' me—th' biggest black bear I ever seen—an' makin' fer me. I jumps up an' grabs my gun an' lets un have it, but wi' th' suddenness on it I misses, an' away I starts an' 'twere lucky I has my racquets on."
"Were this inwinter?" asked Dick.
"Itwerein winter."
"Th' bears asIknows don't travel in winter. They sleeps then, leastways all but white bears."
"Well, this were in winter an' this bear weren't sleepin' much. As I was sayin'——"
"An' he took after ye without bein' provoked?"
"An' he did an' right smart."
"Well hewerea queer bear—aqueerun—th'queerestI ever hear tell about. Awake inwinteran' takin' after folks without bein'provoked. 'Tis th' first black bearIever heard tell about that done that. I knows bears pretty well an' they alus takes tother way about as fast as their legs 'll carry un."
"Now, if you wants me t' tell about this bear ye'll ha' t' stop interruptin'."
"No one said as they wanted ye to."
"Now I'm goin' t' tell un whatever."
"As I were sayin', th' bear he takes after me wi' his best licks an' I takes off an' tries t' load my gun as I runs. I drops in a han'ful o' powder an' then finds I gone an' left my ball pouch at th' fire. It were pretty hard runnin' wi' my racquets sinkin' in th' snow, which were new an' soft an' I were losin' ground an' gettin' winded an' 'twere lookin' like un's goin' t' cotch me sure. All t' onct I see a place where the snow's drifted up three fathoms deep agin a ledge an' even wi' th' top of un. I makes for un an' runs right over th' upper side an' th' bear he comes too, but hehas no racquets and th' snow's soft, bein' fresh drift an' down he goes sinkin' most out o' sight an' th' more un wallers th' worse off un is."
"An' what does you do?" asks Bob.
"What does I do? I stops an' laughs at un a bit. Then I lashes my sheath knife on th' end o' a pole spear-like, an' sticks th' bear back o' th' fore leg an' kills un, an' then I has bear's meat wi' my tea, an' in th' spring gets four dollars from th' company for the skin."
In twenty minutes they had the pelt removed from the bear and Dick generously insisted upon Bob taking it as the first-fruits of his inland hunt, saying: "Ye earned he wi' yer runnin'."
The best of the meat was cut from the carcass, and that night thick, luscious steaks were broiled for supper, and the remainder packed for future use on the journey.
Fine weather had attended the voyageurs thus far but that night the sky clouded heavily and when they emerged from the tent the next morning a thick blanket of snow covered the earth and weighted down the branches of the spruce trees. The storm had spent itself in the night, however, and the day was clear and sparkling. Very beautiful the white world looked when the suncame to light it up; but the snow made tracking less easy, and warned the travellers that no time must be lost in reaching their destination, for it was a harbinger of the winter blasts and blizzards soon to blow.
Early that afternoon they came in view of the rushing waters of the Gull Island Rapids, with their big foam crested waves angrily assailing the rocks that here and there raised their ominous heads above the torrent. The greater length of these rapids can be tracked, with some short portages around the worst places. Before entering them everything was lashed securely into the boat, as at the Porcupine Rapids, and the tracking line fastened a few inches back of the bow leaving enough loose end to run to the stern and this was tied securely there to relieve the unusual strain on the bow fastening. Ed took the position of steersman in the boat, while the other three were to haul upon the line.
When all was made ready and secure, they started forward, bringing the craft into the heavy water, which opposed its progress so vigorously that it seemed as though the rope must surely snap. Stronger and stronger became the strain and harder and harder pulled the men. All ofEd's skill was required to keep the boat straight in the treacherous cross current eddies where the water swept down past the half-hidden rocks in the river bed.
They were pushing on tediously but surely when suddenly and without warning the fastening at the bow broke loose, the boat swung away into the foam, and in a moment was swallowed up beneath the waves. The rear fastening held however and the boat was thrown in against the bank.
But Ed had disappeared in the fearful flood of rushing white water. The other three stood appalled. It seemed to them that no power on earth could save him. He must certainly be dashed to death upon the rocks or smothered beneath the onrushing foam.
For a moment all were inert, paralyzed. Then Dick, accustomed to act quickly in every emergency, slung the line around a boulder, took a half hitch to secure it and, without stopping to see whether it would hold or not, ran down stream at top speed with Bob and Bill at his heels.
Ed had been cast away in rapids before, and when he found himself in the water, with the wilderness traveller's quick appreciation of the conditions, he lay limp, without a struggle. If he permitted the current to carry him in its own way on its course, he might be swept past the rocks uninjured to the still water below. If one struggle was made it might throw him out of the current's course against a boulder, where he would be pounded to death or rendered unconscious and surely drowned. He was swept on much more rapidly than his companions could run and quite hidden from them by the big foam-crested waves.
It seemed ages to the helpless man before he felt his speed slacken and finally found himself in the eddy where they had begun to track. Here he struck out for the river bank only a few yards distant, and, half drowned, succeeded in pulling himself ashore. A few minutes later, when the others came runningdown, they found him, to their great relief, sitting on the bank quite safe, wringing the water from his clothing, and their fear that he was injured was quickly dispelled by his looking up as they approached and remarking, as though nothing unusual had occurred,
"Bathin's chilly this time o' year. Let's put on a fire an' boil th'kettle."
"I don't know as we got a kettle or anythin' else," said Dick, laughing at Ed's bedraggled appearance and matter-of-fact manner. "We better go back an' see. I hitched th' trackin' line to a rock, but I don't know's she's held."
"Well, let's look. I'm a bit damp, an' thinkin'Iwants a fire, whatever."
A cold northwest wind had sprung up in the afternoon and the snow was drifting unpleasantly and before the boat was reached Ed's wet garments were frozen stiff as a coat of mail and he was so chilled through that he could scarcely walk. The line had held and they found the boat in an eddy below a high big boulder. It was submerged, but quite safe, with everything, thanks to the careful lashings, in its place, save a shoulder of bear's meat that had loosened and washed away.
"I thinks, lads, we'll be makin' camp here. Whilst I puts a fire on an' boils th' kettle t' warm Ed up, you pitch camp. 'Twill be nigh sun-down afore Ed gets dried out, an' too late t' go any farther," suggested Dick.
In a few minutes the fire was roaring and Ed thawing out and drinking hot tea as he basked in the blaze, while Dick chopped fire-wood and Bob and Bill unloaded the boat and put up the tent and made it snug for the night.
Heretofore they had found the outside camp-fire quite sufficient for their needs, and had not gone to the trouble of setting up the stove, but it was yet some time before dark, and as the wet clothing and outfit could be much more easily and quickly dried under the shelter of the heated tent than in the drifting snow by the open fire, it was decided to put the stove in use on this occasion. Bob selected a flat stone upon which to rest it, for without this protection the moss beneath, coming into contact with the hot metal, would have dried quickly and taken fire.
When everything was brought in and distributed in the best place to dry, Bob took some birch bark, thrust it into the stove and lighted it. Instantly it flared up as though it had been oilsoaked. This made excellent kindling for the wood that was piled on top, and in an incredibly short time the tent was warm and snug as any house. Ed left the open fire and joined Bob and Bill, and in a few minutes Dick came in with an armful of wood.
"Well, un had a good wettin' an' a cold souse," said he, as he piled the wood neatly behind the stove, addressing himself to Ed, who, now quite recovered from his chill, stood with his back to the stove, puffing contentedly at his pipe, with the steam pouring out of his wet clothes.
"'Twere just a fine time wi' th' dip I had ten year ago th' winter comin'," said Ed, ruminatively. "'Twerenothin'to that un."
"An' where were that?" asked Dick.
"I were out o' tea in March, an' handy to havin' no tobaccy, an' I says t' myself, 'Ed, ye can't stay in th' bush till th' break up wi' nary a bit o' tea, and ye'd die wi'out tobaccy. Now ye got t' make th' cruise t' th' Post.' Well, I fixes up my traps, an' packs grub for a week on my flat sled (toboggan) an' off I goes. 'Twere fair goin' wi' good hard footin' an' I makes fine time. Below th' Gull Rapids, just above where I come ashore th' day, I takes t' th' ice thinkin' ungood, an' 'twere lucky I has my racquets lashed on th' flat sled an' not walkin' wi' un, for I never could a swum wi' un on. Two fathoms from th' shore I steps on bad ice an' in I goes, head an' all, an' th' current snatches me off'n my feet an' carries me under th' ice, an' afore I knows un I finds th' water carryin' me along as fast as a deer when he gets th' wind."
"An' how did un get out?" asked Bob in open-mouthed wonder.
"'Twere sure a hard fixunderth' ice," remarked Bill, equally interested.
"A wonderful hard fix, awonderfulhard fix,underth' ice, an' I were handy t' stayin' under un," said Ed, taking evident delight in keeping his auditors in suspense. "Aye, awonderfulhard fix," continued he, while he hacked pieces from his tobacco plug and filled his pipe.
"An' where were I?" asked Dick, making a quick calculation of past events. "I were huntin' wi' un ten year ago, an' I don't mind ye're gettin' in th' ice."
"'Twere th' winter un were laid up wi' th' lame leg, an' poor Frank Morgan were huntin' along wi' me. Frank were lost th' same spring in th' Bay. Does un mind that?"
"'Twere onlynineyear ago I were laid up an' Frank were huntin' my trail," said Dick.
"Well, maybe 'twere only nine year; 'twerenineortenyear ago," Ed continued, with some show of impatience at Dick's questioning. "Leastways 'twere thereabouts. Well, I finds myself away off from th' hole I'd dropped into, an' no way o' findin' he. The river were low an' had settled a foot below th' ice, which were four or five feet thick over my head, an' no way o' cuttin' out. So what does I do?"
"An' what does un do?" asked Dick.
"What does I do? I keeps shallow water near th' shore an' holdin' my head betwixt ice an' water makes down t' th' Porcupine Rapids. 'Twere a long an' wearisome pull, an' thinks I, 'Tis too much—un's done for now.' After a time I sees light an' I goes for un. 'Twere a place near a rock where th' water swingin' around had kept th' ice thin. I gets t' un an' makes a footin' on th' rock. I gets out my knife an' finds th' ice breaks easy, an' cuts a hole an' crawls out. By th' time I gets on th' ice I were pretty handy t' givin' up wi' th' cold."
"'Twere a close call," assented Dick, as he puffed at his pipe meditatively.
"How far did un go under th' ice?" asked Bill, who had been much interested in the narrative.
"Handy t' two mile."
For several days after this the men worked very hard from early dawn until the evening darkness drove them into camp. The current was swift and the rapids great surging torrents of angry water that seemed bent upon driving them back. One after another the Horseshoe, the Ninipi, and finally, after much toil, the Mouni Rapids were met and conquered.
The weather was stormy and disagreeable. Nearly every day the air was filled with driving snow or beating cold rain that kept them wet to the skin and would have sapped the courage and broken the spirit of less determined men. But they did not mind it. It was the sort of thing they had been accustomed to all their life.
With each morning, Bob, full of the wilderness spirit, took up the work with as much enthusiasm as on the day he left Wolf Bight. At night when he was very tired and just a bit homesick, he would try to picture to himself the little cabin that now seemed far, far away, and he would say to himself,
"If I could spend th' night there now, an' be back here in th' mornin', 'twould be fine. But when Idoesgo back, the goin' home'll be fine, an' pay for all th' bein' away. An' the Lard lets me, I'll have th' fur t' send Emily t' th' doctors an' make she well."
One day the clouds grew tired of sending forth snow and rain, and the wind forgot to blow, and the waters became weary of their rushing. The morning broke clear and beautiful, and the sun, in a blaze of red and orange grandeur, displayed the world in all its rugged primeval beauty. The travellers had reached Lake Wonakapow, a widening of the river, where the waters were smooth and no current opposed their progress. For the first time in many days the sails were hoisted, and, released from the hard work, the men sat back to enjoy the rest, while a fair breeze sent them up the lake.
"'Tis fine t' have a spell from th' trackin'," remarked Ed as he lighted his pipe.
"Aye, 'tis that," assented Dick, "an' we been makin' rare good time wi' this bad weather. We're three days ahead o' my reckonin'."
How beautiful it was! The water, deep anddark, leading far away, every rugged hill capped with snow, and the white peaks sparkling in the sunshine. A loon laughed at them as they passed, and an invisible wolf on a mountainside sent forth its long weird cry of defiance.
They sailed quietly on for an hour or two. Finally Ed pointed out to Bob a small log shack standing a few yards back from the shore, saying:
"An' there's my tilt. Here I leaves un."
Bill Campbell was at the tiller, and the boat was headed to a strip of sandy beach near the tilt. Presently they landed. Ed's things were separated from the others and taken ashore, and all hands helped him carry them up to the tilt.
There was no window in the shack and the doorway was not over four feet high. Within was a single room about six by eight feet in size, with a rude couch built of saplings, running along two sides, upon which spruce boughs, used the previous year and now dry and dead, were strewn for a bed. The floor was of earth. The tilt contained a sheet iron stove similar to the one Bob had brought, but no other furniture save a few cooking utensils. The round logs of which the rough building was constructed, werewell chinked between them with moss, making it snug and warm.
Chart of the Trails.Chart of the Trails.
Chart of the Trails.
This was where Ed kept his base of supplies. His trail began here and ran inland and nearly northward for some distance to a lake whose shores it skirted, and then, taking a swing to the southwest, came back to the river again and ended where Dick's began, and the two trappers had a tilt there which they used in common. Between these tilts were four others at intervals of twelve to fifteen miles, for night shelters, the distance between them constituting a day's work, the trail from end to end being about seventy miles long.
The trails which the other three were to hunt led off, one from the other—Dick's, Bill's and then the Big Hill trail, with tilts at the juncture points and along them in a similar manner to the arrangement of Ed's, and each trail covering about the same number of miles as his. Each man could therefore walk the length of his trail in five days, if the weather were good, and, starting from one end on Monday morning have a tilt to sleep in each night and reach his last tilt on the other end Friday night. This gave him Saturday in which to do odd jobs like mending,and Sunday for rest, before taking up the round again on Monday.
It was yet too early by three weeks to begin the actual trapping, but much in the way of preparation had to be done in the meantime. This was Tuesday, and it was agreed that two weeks from the following Saturday Ed and Dick should be at the tilt where their trails met and Bill and Bob at the junction of their trails, ready to start their work on the next Monday. This would bring Dick and Bill together on the following Friday night and Bob and Ed would each be alone, one at either end of the series of trails and more than a hundred miles from his nearest neighbour.
"I hopes your first cruise'll be a good un, an' you'll be doin' fine th' winter, Bob. Have a care now for th' Nascaupees," said Ed as they shook hands at parting.
"Thanks," answered Bob, "an' I hopes you'll be havin' a fine hunt too."
Then they were off, and Ed's long winter's work began.
The next afternoon Dick's first tilt was reached, and a part of his provisions and some of Ed's that they had brought on for him, wereunloaded there. Dick, however, decided to go with the young men to the tilt at the beginning of the Big Hill trail, to help them haul the boat up and make it snug for the winter, saying, "I'm thinkin' you might find her too heavy, an' I'll go on an' give a hand, an' cut across to my trail, which I can do handy enough in a day, havin' no pack."
An hour before dark on Friday evening they reached the tilt. Dick was the first to enter it, and as he pushed open the door he stopped with the exclamation:
"That rascal Micmac!"
The stove and stovepipe were gone, and fresh, warm ashes on the floor gave conclusive proof that the theft had been perpetrated that very day. Some one had been occupying the tilt, too, as new boughs spread for a bed made evident.
"More o' Micmac John's work," commented Dick as he kicked the ashes. "He's been takin' th' stove an' he'll be takin' th' fur too, an' he gets a chance."
"Maybe 'twere Mountaineers," suggested Bill.
"No, 'twere no Mountaineers—themdon't steal. No un ever heard o' a Mountaineer takin' things as belongs tootherfolks.Injunsbe honest—leastways all but half-breeds."
"Nascaupees might a been here," offered Bob, having in mind the stories he had heard of them, and feeling now that he was almost amongst them.
"No, Nascaupees 'd have no use for astove. They'd ha' burned th' tilt. 'Tis Micmac John,an' he be here t' steal fur. 'Tis t' steal fur's whathebe after. But let me ketch un, an' he won't steal much more fur," insisted Dick, worked up to a very wrathful pitch.
They looked outside for indications of the course the marauder had taken, and discovered that he had returned to the river, where his canoe had been launched a little way above the tilt, and had either crossed to the opposite side or gone higher up stream. In either case it was useless to attempt to follow him, as, if they caught him at all, it would be after a chase of several days, and they could not well afford the time. There was nothing to do, therefore, but make the best of it. Bob's tent stove was set up in place of the one that had been stolen. Then everything was stowed away in the tilt.
The next morning came cold and gray, with heavy, low-hanging clouds, threatening an early storm. The boat was hauled well up on the shore, and a log protection built over it to prevent the heavy snows that were soon to come from breaking it down.
Before noon the first flakes of the promised storm fell lazily to the earth and in half an hour it was coming so thickly that the river twentyyards away could not be seen, and the wind was rising. The three cut a supply of dry wood and piled what they could in the tilt, placing the rest within reach of the door. Then armfuls of boughs were broken for their bed. All the time the storm was increasing in power and by nightfall a gale was blowing and a veritable blizzard raging.
When all was made secure, a good fire was started in the stove, a candle lighted, and some partridges that had been killed in the morning put over with a bit of pork to boil for supper. While these were cooking Bill mixed some flour with water, using baking soda for leaven—"risin'" he called it—into a dough which he formed into cakes as large in circumference as the pan would accommodate and a quarter of an inch thick. These cakes he fried in pork grease. This was the sort of bread that they were to eat through the winter.
The meal was a cozy one. Outside the wind shrieked angrily and swirled the snow in smothering clouds around the tilt, and rattled the stovepipe, threatening to shake it down. It was very pleasant to be out of it all in the snug, warm shack with the stove crackling contentedly and the place filled with the mingled odours of thesteaming kettle of partridges and tea and spruce boughs. To the hunters it seemed luxurious after their tedious fight against the swift river. Times like this bring ample recompense to the wilderness traveller for the most strenuous hardships that he is called upon to endure. The memory of one such night will make men forget a month of suffering. Herein lies one of the secret charms of the wilds.
When supper was finished Dick and Bill filled their pipes, and with coals from the stove lighted them. Then they lounged back and puffed with an air of such perfect, speechless bliss that for the first time in his life Bob felt a desire to smoke. He drew from his pocket the pipe Douglas had given him and filled it from a plug of the tobacco. When he reached for a firebrand to light it Dick noticed what he was doing and asked good naturedly,—
"Think t' smoke with us, eh?"
"Yes, thinks I'll try un."
"An' be gettin' sick before un knows it," volunteered Bill.
Disregarding the suggestion Bob fired his pipe and lay back with the air of an old veteran. He soon found that he did not like it very much, andin a little while he felt a queer sensation in his stomach, but it was not in Bob's nature to acknowledge himself beaten so easily, and he puffed on doggedly. Pretty soon beads of perspiration stood out upon his forehead and he grew white. Then he quietly laid aside the pipe and groped his way unsteadily out of doors, for he was very dizzy and faint. When he finally returned he was too sick to pay any attention to the banter of his companions, who unsympathetically made fun of him, and he lay down with the inward belief that smoking was not the pleasure it was said to be, and as for himself he would never touch a pipe again.
All day Sunday and Monday the storm blew with unabated fury and the three were held close prisoners in the tilt. On Monday night it cleared, and Tuesday morning came clear and rasping cold.
Long before daylight breakfast was eaten and preparations made for travelling. Bob lashed his tent, cooking utensils, some traps and a supply of provisions upon one of two toboggans that leaned against the tilt outside. The other one was for Bill when he should need it. Dick did up his blanket and a few provisions intoa light pack, new slings were adjusted to their snow-shoes and finally they were ready to strike the trails.
The steel-gray dawn was just showing when Dick shouldered his pack, took his axe and gun and shook hands with the boys.
"Good-bye Bob. Have a care o' nasty weather an' don't be losin' yourself. I'll see you in a fortnight, Bill. Good-bye."
With long strides he turned down the river bend and in a few moments the immeasurable white wilderness had swallowed him up.
The Big Hill trail was so called from a high, barren hill around whose base it swung to follow a series of lakes leading to the northwest. Of course as Bob had never been over the trail he did not know its course, or where to find the traps that Douglas had left hanging in the trees or lying on rocks the previous spring at the end of the hunting season. Bill was to go with him to the farthest tilt on this first journey to point these out to him and show him the way, then leave him and hurry back to his own path, while Bob set the traps and worked his way back to the junction tilt.
Shortly after Dick left them they started, Billgoing ahead and breaking the trail with his snow-shoes while Bob behind hauled the loaded toboggan. On they pushed through trees heavily laden with snow, out upon wide, frozen marshes, skirting lakes deep hidden beneath the ice and snow which covered them like a great white blanket. The only halts were for a moment now and again to note the location of traps as they passed, which Bob with his keen memory of the woods could easily find again when he returned to set them. Once they came upon some ptarmigans, white as the snow upon which they stood. Their "grub bag" received several of the birds, which were very tame and easily shot. A hurried march brought them to the first tilt at noon, where they had dinner, and that night, shortly after dark, they reached the second tilt, thirty miles from their starting point. At midday on Thursday they came to the end of the trail.
When they had had dinner of fried ptarmigan and tea, Bill announced: "I'll be leavin' ye now, Bob. In two weeks from Friday we'll be meetin' in th' river tilt."
"All right, an' I'll be there."
"An' don't be gettin' lonesome, now I leaves un."
"I'll be no gettin' lonesome. There be some traps t' mend before I starts back an' a chance bit o' other work as'll keep me busy."
Then Bill turned down the trail, and Bob for the first time in his life was quite alone in the heart of the great wilderness.