  After some discussion it was decided that they would get everything ready and then drive back to the Carry with Ezra and spend the night there, getting an early start the next morning. Fortunately Tom had a number of sleeping bags at the camp and a toboggan about six feet long. On this they packed their food and other necessities, knowing that it would be easier to drag the load on the light toboggan than to carry it on their backs. The stars were still shining brightly in the heavens when, the next morning, they waved goodbye to Ezra and turned their faces to the frozen North. “Don’t get froze and don’t get lost, or all the gain’ll be less’n the cost,” was Ezra’s parting advice, and they assured him that they would be careful. From North East Carry to the Canadian border is about fifty miles directly northwest, but at that point is the main road to Quebec and small towns are plentiful. Knowing this, the boys were not at all surprised to find that the man’s trail, which they picked up almost at once, led more to the north. “Nip’s going to fight shy of the towns till he gets across,” Jack declared, pointing to the well-defined trail. “Looks that way,” Bob agreed. “At any rate he won’t strike one the way he’s heading till he gets to the St. Lawrence River about a hundred miles north of here.” The trail was plainly marked, the prints of snow-shoes showing clearly in the well packed snow. They were hauling the toboggan tandem-wise and hardly were aware of its weight. It was splendid traveling, as there had been no snow for several days and their snow-shoes made but little impression. At eleven o’clock they had reached the upper end of the lake and decided to eat dinner before striking into the dense woods which lined the edge. They had made fast time but they well knew that from now on their progress would be much slower. Drawing a toboggan over the smooth surface of a lake is quite a different matter from pulling it through the thick forest where every foot of the way must be chosen with care. They decided to save time by eating a cold lunch, waiting until night for their cooked meal, and in less than twenty minutes they were on the trail once more. While they were eating Bob had noticed for the first time that the sun was no longer bright, and as they entered the woods he called Jack’s attention to it. “If I’m any good as a weather prophet we’re going to get some snow before night,” he said as he cast an anxious eye upward. “What can’t be cured must be endured,” Jack quoted gaily, carefully picking his way between the massive trees. Not only were the trees very close together, but the ground was uneven and it was, as Bob declared “all up hill and down dale.” But it was no new experience to them and they knew what to expect, so for two hours or more they pushed forward in good spirits. “He’s heading a bit to the west of north,” Bob declared, as they stopped for a brief breathing spell. “I don’t understand it, as the farther he goes to the west the farther he’ll have to hike before he strikes the border.” “I wonder if he knows enough to keep a straight course through the woods. A man’s got to know something about it to be able to do it, you know,” Jack declared, as he picked up the rope and started off again. “That wind sounds like snow,” Bob asserted, as he fell in behind. The wind, which for the last hour had been increasing in strength, was coming from the northeast, an almost certain forerunner of a storm at that time of year. So well protected were they by the thickness of the trees they hardly felt its force, but they were too wise to be deceived by that, as the sound, as it swept through the tops, told them that it was already blowing a fair sized gale. And now a few flakes began to sift lazily down through the thick branches. “She’s a coming,” Bob shouted. “Let her come. We got here first,” Jack laughed back over his shoulder. The flakes steadily increased in number and the sighing of the treetops grew louder as they slowly pushed on toward the north, and by the time another hour had passed the trail had nearly vanished beneath the falling snow. Only here and there could they catch sight of the tracks. “We’ll be all at sea as far as shoeprints are concerned in another half hour,” Jack declared, as he anxiously scanned the snow ahead. He was correct in his statement, for in less than fifteen minutes the prints of the snow-shoes had disappeared entirely, and now the skill which they had acquired under the tutelage of their Indian friend Kernertok, was brought into play. A broken twig here, a bit of bark from a tree trunk there, and other signs, readable only by one trained in woodcraft, now had to serve as their only guide. Their progress, slow from the time they had left the lake, was now much slower, as they were often obliged to search for some time before finding the tell-tale clue. “Hold on a minute, Jack,” Bob shouted a while later. “How long has it been since you saw any marks?” Jack stopped and looked around. “Well, it’s been quite a while,” he confessed. “But I’ve been expecting to catch sight of one any minute.” “And I haven’t seen a thing since we saw where he had leaned up against that big pine and that must have been all of a quarter of a mile back. It’s going to begin to get dark in a mighty short time now and I think we’d better find a good place to camp before we go any farther. I think I can find the way back to that pine in the morning and we can probably pick up the trail again from there if we have any luck, but we’re going it blind now,” and Bob cast an anxious glance about him. “All right, you’re the doctor,” Jack agreed as he threw the rope from his shoulders. “What’s the matter with right here?” he asked. “Those two saplings will be all right for the canvass and that big pine will make a pretty fair wind break.” “As good as we’ll be apt to find, I guess, if we can only scare up some wood for the fire,” Bob agreed. “All right then, I’ll do the digging if you’ll hustle the wood,” Jack proposed, and taking a shovel from the pack on the toboggan, he began work, while Bob started off with the ax to see what he could find in the way of fuel. Fortune favored him, for before he had taken fifty steps he came upon a dead pine which had blown over and was only partially covered by the snow. He at once set to work hacking off the brittle branches and throwing them in a pile to one side. “Enough wood here to last a week,” he thought, as the pile grew larger with astonishing rapidity. After a half hour’s hard work he judged that he had enough for the night and picking up as much as he could carry he started back. Meanwhile Jack had not been idle and by the time Bob returned with the wood he had nearly finished a trench directly in front of the big pine and extending between the two saplings. The trench was about four feet wide and nearly three times as long. “Found some, did you?” Jack asked as Bob appeared. “Sure. What did you think I went after? I see you’ve been pretty busy yourself and by the time you get the house done I’ll have plenty of wood here,” Bob declared as he started back for a second load. He made several trips while Jack was completing his part, and when the latter finally stepped out of the trench a large pile of dead branches as well as a number of pieces of the trunk lay close by. The two small trees stood about six feet from the big pine, and to each of them they tied a corner of a large strip of canvass, about three feet from the surface of the snow. The other two corners they fastened to sticks driven well down in the snow close to the foot of the pine, so that about six feet of the trench was covered with a sloping canvass roof. “Now let’s get the fire going and then for a good hot supper. That cold lunch didn’t even fill up the corners,” Jack declared. In the uncovered end of the trench, which was nearly four feet deep, Bob started a small fire, while Jack undid the pack enough to get out the cooking utensils and the provisions. It was now nearly dark and the bright light from the crackling fire cast fantastic shadows as the boys moved about their work. In a surprisingly short time a meal of bacon and eggs, flapjacks and coffee was ready. Enough, as Bob laughingly declared, “to satisfy a dozen ordinary men.” But there is no better appetizer than strenuous exercise in the clear cold spruce-laden air of Northern Maine, and in spite of appearances he found that Jack had used excellent judgment in his estimation of the proper amount of food, for, as he declared, after they had finished, “not enough remained to feed a good-sized mosquito.” After “doing the dishes” they brought in the rest of the wood which Bob had cut and then turned their attention to preparations for the night. Over the ground beneath the canvass roof they spread a thick layer of spruce boughs, covering them with a thick woolen blanket, making a bed, as Jack declared, “fit for any king.” Then they pulled the toboggan close beneath another large pine a few feet away, where it would be protected as well as conditions would permit from the storm, and covered the pack with a second strip of canvass. Then, throwing an armful of the dead branches on the fire, they waited until the flames were shooting well above the snow walls of the trench before piling on the larger pieces of the trunk. These being of good size, would last for several hours, and if they should fail to awake in time to replenish the fire, they knew that the thick sleeping bags would be ample protection from the cold. “She don’t seem to be letting up any,” Jack asserted as he listened to the wind now fairly howling through the tops of the trees. “You said it,” Bob agreed, “and I’ll bet it’s snowing an inch every fifteen minutes. Must be close on to a foot already. If it keeps it up like this all night, we’ll have mighty hard going tomorrow let me tell you,” he added. “So will Nip, and that’s one comfort,” Jack declared, as he threw another log on the fire. By eight o’clock everything was “shipshape,” as Bob put it, and crawling into the sleeping bags they pulled a heavy army blanket over them and were soon lulled to sleep by the sighing of the wind as the lofty spruces and pines bent their tops to its strength. It must have been well after midnight when suddenly Bob awoke. The fire was about burned out, only a glowing bed of embers remaining. For a moment he lay wondering what had disturbed him. The wind still blew with undiminished fury, but he knew that some other sound had reached his ears. He did not, however, have to wonder long, for suddenly through the dense forest, above the wailing of the wind, came a sound which sent a shudder through his frame, for once before he had heard that cry while on a hunting trip with his father in Canada. “It’s a timber wolf,” he whispered to himself. “Never knew they came so far south as this, but it’s probably only a stray one,” he thought as he turned over and shut his eyes. But a moment later he was brought to a sitting position as an answering howl far off to the left answered the first. “There’s two of them at any rate,” he said half aloud, as he gave Jack a shake. “Hey, what’s the matter?” Jack grunted sleepily, as he turned over and rubbed his eyes. “Listen a minute and you’ll find out,” Bob replied, and even as he spoke another howl, this time nearer and more to the right, came to their ears. “What is it?” Jack asked, as he sat up, now fully awake. “It’s wolves and they’re coming our way,” Bob replied, as he began to crawl out of his bag. “We must get that fire going again. They’re afraid of a fire, thank goodness, but that’s about the only thing they are afraid of.” It was the work of but a minute to heap more wood on the dying coals, and they were glad to find that there was still enough fire left to catch the new fuel. Soon the flames were shooting up once more, but now the howls were coming with increasing frequency and each one seemed nearer than the one before. “There’s a good many more than one in that pack,” Bob declared as he jumped back into the trench, and picked up the 38 Winchester, which he had taken from the pack before going to bed. “I should say so,” Jack agreed, as howl answered to howl above the roaring of the wind. “The deep snow up north must have driven them south,” Bob declared as he listened to the short full-throated cry of the hunting timber wolves now so plainly heard through the wall of the falling snow that he strained his eyes, expecting every minute to catch sight of the leaping forms. Just then Jack spoke and the note of alarm in his voice caused Bob to turn his head quickly. “My gracious, Bob, do you realize that we threw on the last of the wood?” “That’s so, and there’s not enough to keep the fire going more than a half hour at most, and it’s all of six hours to daylight. “Think we’d better climb a tree?” “Not yet,” Bob replied after a moment’s thought. “That big pine’s pretty handy and we can get into it if we have to, but it’d be mighty cold up there. They won’t dare to come very near so long as the fire’s going in good shape, and if I can pick off two or three of them, perhaps they’ll clear out. Just hear them howl.” “I see one,” Jack shouted a moment later, as a gray form bounded into view not more than twenty feet away. His words were followed by the sharp crack of the rifle and the wolf leaped high in the air with a sharp yelp of pain and fell back. Almost instantly the deep throated howls changed to sharp yelps and snarls as the pack fought over the body of the dead wolf. Bob quickly fired three more shots at the writhing mass, which he could see but dimly through the falling snow. Whether or not any of the shots took effect he was unable to tell, as the incessant yelping made it impossible to distinguish any separate cry of pain. For perhaps ten minutes the battle raged, then, almost as suddenly as it had started, it was ended, and the gray forms slunk back among the trees. “Didn’t take ’em long to finish him,” Jack declared, as he gave the fire a poking causing it to blaze up afresh. “Think they’ve quit?” “I doubt it,” Bob replied. “They’re pretty wise fellows and they’ve had a lesson; but if they’re very hungry, and I guess there’s no doubt about that, they won’t give up so easy. If we only had plenty of wood we’d be all right,” he added, giving the fire another poke. But now the wood was nearly all consumed and the poking had but slight effect. The howls had ceased entirely and had it not been for the occasional glimpse of a shadowy form dimly seen in the darkness, they might have concluded that the wolves had given it up as a bad job. “Guess they’re waiting for the fire to go out,” Jack suggested as he again tried to coax a blaze from the dying embers. Bang! A shaggy form, more bold than the rest, had crept forward until he offered a fair shot, but he paid for his temerity with his life, and quickly furnished material for a second cannibalistic feast. Fortunately he had plenty of cartridges and he again fired shot after shot into the fighting crowd. Some of the shots he knew must be hitting the mark and, after a short time, the wolves again withdrew into the shelter of the trees leaving, as they could see, three or four bodies lying in the snow. “We’ve got ’em on the run now,” Jack shouted joyfully, but Bob was not so confident. “I hope so,” he said, “but I don’t believe they have given it up yet.” And in a few minutes his fears were realized as they saw, by the dim light, form after form creeping forward. The wolves were spread out nearly in a semi-circle. “There must be fifty of them,” Jack declared just as Bob fired again. His shot went true to the mark but this time the wolves paid no attention to their fallen companion. “We’ve got to take to the tree, Jack,” Bob shouted. “You go first and I’ll hand the rifle to you.” Fortunately the lowest branches of the big pine, at the foot of the trench, were near the ground and Jack, crawling out on the snow, had no trouble in reaching them. “Get a hustle,” he called, reaching for the rifle which Bob was holding up to him. At this moment the wolves, seeing their prey about to escape, plunged forward with mighty leaps through the snow, and were almost upon Bob as he reached for the limb. The leader, an enormous brute, lank with hunger, sprang from the snow and his dripping jaws closed on the boy’s leg. Fortunately his leggings were strong and thick and before the sharp teeth had time to penetrate to the flesh a shot rang out and the wolf fell back, shot through the heart. He almost dragged Bob with him so securely were his teeth fastened in the leggings. But exerting all his strength, he clung to the branch and kicked his leg free. A moment later he was safe in the tree. “Good shot that,” he panted. “I thought for a minute that he had me.” The wolves, as if realizing that their prey was beyond their reach, broke into a chorus of mournful howls as they slowly circled around beneath the tree. “I hope they don’t smell our provisions,” Bob said, as he shifted to a more comfortable position. The hope, however, was a vain one, for hardly had he uttered it when an excited yelp told them, only too plainly, that their stores were in danger. The toboggan, with its precious load, although only a short distance away, was invisible from their position, as a small pine intervened and they could only hope and pray that something would be left. Bob fired several shots in the direction of the snarls and yelps but, as far as they could tell, without effect. It was not long before the wolves were back beneath the tree and taking careful aim at a particularly large shaggy fellow, Bob fired. The wolf, with a yelp of pain, fell kicking in the snow and was almost instantly torn in pieces and devoured by his companions. “A man may be down but never out, but when one of those fellows is down it don’t take him long to be out, does it?” Jack said as he watched the fragments of the wolf disappear down the hungry throats. “Out is hardly the word,” Bob replied grimly. “I should say in was more to the point.” Again he fired and again the performance was repeated. But now the wolves drew farther away. They were evidently learning the meaning of that sharp crack and however hungry were not anxious to be served up to their equally famished companions. For some time Bob was unable to get another shot, but a wolf’s memory is short and in the course of a half hour they came creeping warily back. Bob waited until one was nearly beneath the tree before he fired, and then as the pack closed in for the feast, he poured shot after shot into them. At close range the carnage was too much even for the ravenous beasts and leaving several of their number kicking in the snow the rest turned and fled, making the forest ring with their howls of terror. “I don’t believe they’ll come back again this time,” Bob said, as he filled the magazine with fresh cartridges. And he was right, for gradually the howls grew fainter and soon nothing save the noise of the storm could be heard. “I guess they’ve gone,” Jack declared, and Bob agreed with him. “But we better wait awhile and make sure before we get down,” he said as he pulled a pair of thick mittens from the pocket of his mackinaw and drew them on his numbed hands. So great had been the excitement that, until now, they had not noticed the cold, but now the wind seemed to penetrate to the very marrow of their bones. “If we don’t get down pretty soon I’ll turn into a human icicle,” Jack declared after a half hour had passed. “I guess it’ll be safe enough to risk it,” Bob replied, his teeth chattering so that he could hardly talk. “I don’t think they’ll come back again and if they do we can climb back.” A glance at his watch, just as he crawled once more into his sleeping bag, told Bob that it was nearly four o’clock. How good the thick warm bags felt after the cold exposure of the tree. In less than five minutes he was, as he told Jack, “as warm as toast.” He resolved that he would not go to sleep, as he still feared the return of the wolves, but he said nothing of it to Jack, knowing that the generous boy would insist in keeping awake also. So he lay there on the spruce boughs listening to the storm. It took all his will power to keep his eyes from closing, but not once did he yield to the drowsiness. About five o’clock he noticed that the wind was dying down and that the snow had all but ceased falling. It seemed as though the next hour would never pass, but at last the hands of the watch pointed to six and very carefully, so as not to disturb his brother, he crept out of his bag. It was still very dark but he knew that daylight was near at hand and realizing the importance of getting an early start he tied on his snow-shoes and, ax in hand, started for the dead pine. No sound had been heard from the wolves since shortly after three o’clock and he felt certain that they had left the vicinity. Fully two feet of light snow had fallen during the night and he found the tree nearly buried. But by dint of much hard work he managed to secure what he judged would be enough to cook breakfast with. “Provided the wolves have left anything,” he thought as he picked up an armful of the dead branches and started back. The first faint indication of the approaching dawn was creeping through the forest as he lit the fire. Jack was still sleeping soundly, but the crackling of the flames soon woke him. “It’s a wonder you wouldn’t call a fellow,” he said with a yawn, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. “No need of both of us getting up so early and I happened to be awake so I thought I might as well get the wood,” Bob replied easily, as he threw more wood on the fire. “I’ll bet you didn’t go to sleep at all, now did you?” Jack asked as he got out of his bag and came close to the fire. Pinned down, Bob had to acknowledge that he had kept watch. “But it’s all right, old fellow. There was no use in both of us keeping awake, and you know I can do it much easier than you can,” and he gave him a loving hug, whereupon Jack declared that he was the best brother in the world. By this time it was light enough for them to see for some distance, and Bob suggested that they see if their visitors had left them anything for breakfast. From where they stood, at the foot of the trench, they could see the bodies of not less than a half dozen wolves. “They came out second best anyhow,” Jack declared, as they made their way to the toboggan. “Looks as though they had done a pretty good job here at any rate,” Bob said as he looked down at the wreck at his feet. The canvass cover was torn to shreds and at first it looked as though everything had been devoured. But, knowing that a part of the provisions had consisted of canned goods, they began to search in the snow and soon Jack shouted. “Here’s the can of coffee.” “And here’s the milk,” Bob added a moment later, as he picked up a small can of condensed milk. One by one they recovered the cans. Two of bacon, one of beef tongue, and three of soup. “I guess that’s about all the canned stuff we had,” Bob said as he picked the last can of soup from the snow. “How about the eggs? They were in a tin can.” “That’s so, and we must find them.” For fully fifteen minutes they hunted, loath to give up, and then Jack found the can nearly ten feet away from the front end of the toboggan. “Hope they’re not all smashed,” he said as he pried off the cover. “Looks like an omelet,” he announced a moment later, as he stared at the contents of the can. “But I guess we can scramble them,” he added hopefully. “I’ll get breakfast while you pack up,” Jack suggested as they turned back to the fire. Filling the coffee pot with snow, he soon had it melting over the fire, while he picked the bits of broken shell out of the “omelet.” “Not so bad at that,” Bob declared, as a few minutes later they were eating bacon and scrambled eggs, washed down with coffee. “No, but the trouble is we haven’t got enough left to last more than a couple of days unless we go on mighty short rations, and you know how keen I am for that sort of thing. It took all the eggs I could salvage to make this mess, and there’s about enough bacon for three more meals. That and the soup and one can of tongue is all we have, but, thank goodness, there’s plenty of coffee and milk.” “Well, the question before the house is, what shall we do? Shall we turn back or keep on and trust to luck? We might get a rabbit or two, although I doubt it,” Bob said as he drained his third dipper of coffee. “I move we go on,” Jack said without hesitation. “We can make out for a couple of days anyhow.” “All right, I second the motion and that makes it unanimous,” Bob declared. “I suppose we’ll have to go back till we come to that pine and see if we can get on the trail again.” Before leaving, they knelt in the trench and thanked God for His goodness in bringing them in safety through the great danger. The freshly fallen snow made heavy going, and it was eight o’clock when they reached the tree which had been the last mark of the trail. |
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