A Claim on Klondyke Part 13

And suddenly all these colours vanished, and the sky was covered with what looked like luminous clouds, through which moved shapes of wavy light, forms which could be likened to angels or spirits. They arose from the northern horizon, climbed slowly to the zenith, then with a burst of brilliance they slipped out of sight. It seemed to me that hundreds, thousands of them were up there moving, twining, turning amongst themselves, like sentient beings, through all the vast s.p.a.ce above me.

These forms, wrapped in robes of diaphanous, tremulous light, sometimes appeared as if they were about to leave the sky and wrap me about in fleecy raiment, and I caught myself imagining that they would carry me away beyond those snow-clad mountains to the north, to the spot which all men seek, but which none have yet reached. I was spellbound, dazzled by this sublime exhibition of Almighty power. I was not afraid--not really; I was awestruck, solemnised.

And as this wonderful white light poured over the pine-clad hills and flashed on the ice-clad mountains, and the nearer trees were fringed with silvery glow, and as I watched all this, entranced, I perceived that this splendour was by degrees dying from the sky. The brilliant lights were fading slowly, and in their place the full moon wheeled up, the stars became visible, and it was an ordinary moonlight scene; but so bright, so brilliant, that for a while I was unable to decide which was the more wonderful display, this calm and peaceful scene, or that which had but now faded from the heavens leaving no trace behind.

I had not stirred for quite half-an-hour, and Patch had stood by me, motionless, all the time. Strangely--or so it was to me--he did not appear to have noticed any of these lights and sights. He was perfectly impa.s.sive.

I had thought during the height of this spectacle that I heard cracklings and other noises like electric discharges; but now that all was motionless about me and no aurora visible, I still heard these sounds, and decided that they were caused by the intense frost splitting trees and splintering their bark and branches.

I was about to turn towards home--home! fancy speaking of that dreadful place I stayed in as home!--when I heard a sound far to the east, beyond some hills, which struck me as most strange. It was exactly like the discharge of a double-barrelled gun.

I noticed that Patch p.r.i.c.ked up his ears at it, and looked suddenly alert.

I listened intently for some minutes, then I heard that sound again!

It was the frost at work, I reckoned, and yet there was something about the report that excited me. I waited, listening for some time, but as I did not hear the sound again, Patch and I wandered back to fire and food.

However, these peculiar sounds frequently recurred to me. There was a strange persistency in my thoughts about them. I wondered if it was possible that some people were stopping over the hills, or could it be merely the snapping of the frost. I concluded that this latter was the solution, and fell asleep believing so.

CHAPTER VII.

The following day--I call it day, because my watch indicated eight in the morning--I went to work, determined to lose no time in finishing all I had to do before starting. There was a collar and traces to make for Patch, and a few other things to complete. I stuck to this employment till evening, when it blew hard, snow fell in flurries, and it was again a blizzard. This lasted for two entire days.

Every few minutes during this time my thoughts reverted to that sound which had attracted me up the creek. I could not get rid of the notion that some people might be there. I tried to look the matter squarely in the face, endeavouring to convince myself that even if it were so, it was of no consequence to me.

I was going down stream; I was ready to leave; in a couple more days, if the weather settled, I should be off, and would, I trusted and believed, quickly arrive at where people dwelt. I knew the way. I could not miss the way. How much better for me this was than setting out on an indefinite hunt into a region still farther from the haunts of men.

Thus I reasoned, thus I endeavoured to pacify my thoughts, but again and again there came over my spirit the fancy that there might be some one, not so many miles off, who was as much in need of companionship, who was just as lonely as I was. I cannot explain why I felt thus. I had merely heard, repeated twice, two cracks that sounded like gunshots, that was all, whilst the woods and the ice on which I had stood were full of similar noises.

It was, I suppose, the great desire, the mighty longing that I had for the company of a fellow-being that thus agitated me.

This seemed to me to be the greatest pain I suffered; it was indeed my chief longing to meet a human being--white, black, or red. Just then I believe I should have hailed enthusiastically the poorest specimen of an Indian, the meanest white man in all the country.

Meade had only been gone about eleven weeks, it is true, although it appeared to me that I had been eleven years alone.

On the third evening, which was intensely, indescribably cold, but calm and clear, with brilliant moonlight--stimulated by these thoughts and anxious for action, I started off with my good dog, determined, if possible, to satisfy my longing. I meant, if necessary, to go farther up the creek than I had yet been, up a branch of it which appeared to trend in the direction in which I had been attracted by the peculiar sounds.

I put half a loaf of bread into my bag, some meat, a lump of chocolate, and a pot to boil water in. For a wonder I did this--I rarely took any food with me, but this time it occurred to me as possible that I might have to be out some time--and, as you will learn, it was indeed providential that I did.

Patch and I marched off along the wide avenue which our stream formed through the scrubby firs and Jack pines which grew closely along its margins. We halted first at the place where we had stopped previously, and listened again.

There were the frost-sounds frequent enough, but nothing more. We halted there some little time; Patch was not interested, he sat beside me listless. Then we trudged on a piece farther up the arm, which pointed, as nearly as I could guess, south-west, and this was towards where I thought that I had heard the shots. Here the stream had spread out some width, there was a wide expanse of unruffled snow, and the sounds made by the frost were nearly inaudible.

We waited there again, and to my surprise and amus.e.m.e.nt Patch became quite animated. He stood beside me, gazing solemnly ahead, with his tail waving slowly, his ears p.r.i.c.ked up. He seemed to be listening, as I was, very intently. We stood some minutes thus. I was very cold, but I spoke cheerily to Patch.

He paid no attention to me, just gazed wistfully before him. Yet no sound like a gunshot broke the silence.

I had become impatient; with my mittened hand I patted my companion's head, saying something to him about the futility of this--that it was all hallucination, imagination--at which he looked at me for a moment gravely, then pointed his nose upstream once more, and with his ears erect listened again.

But I could not stand still any longer. I spoke to Patch about it. He paid no attention, at which I turned, meaning to retrace my steps.

I saw he was unwilling to go with me; indeed he sat down in the snow and pointed his nose persistently up the creek, at which it occurred to me we might just as well go on a little farther, as I knew we could not lose ourselves, and I knew, alas! that there was no one "at home" to be troubled about our absence, so I turned again, crying, "Come, my lad!

come on, then!"

At this the good old dog began to wag his tail, to jump and caper around me, barking with delight. I had not seen him so excited for weeks, not even when he thought he had a fox cornered, or a rabbit entangled in a snow-drift.

Often he stood still suddenly, as if he had heard something deeply interesting, and always after these intermissions he went ahead with greater demonstrations of pleasure and excitement, which caused me to become more agitated: I wondered what his meaning was.

After a while, when we were standing side by side, attentive, suddenly the stillness, which was oppressive, was broken by two shots!

No doubt of it this time, they were shots! and not so very far away.

Patch looked at me delighted. I am sure he was. Instinctively I took him by the collar, for I thought he might in his transports rush off and get into mischief.

However, a very few minutes after the sound of the shots had ceased to echo amongst the hills, six cracks rang through the stillness. It was a revolver that had been fired, that was sure!

I loosed the dog then, who rushed off in the direction of the sound, whilst I floundered after him, calling as I ran, "Forward, good dog!

Forward!"

We must have gone half a mile before we stopped again to listen. Patch had been running ahead barking, then returning to me, showing his eagerness, his delight, urging me with all his powers to hurry on.

But I was out of breath. I stood still, and then I heard a double shot fired once more, and six revolver shots immediately after, and they were much nearer than the last!

There was no mistake about it then. There were other human beings in that awful wilderness, there were more folk suffering--perhaps as I was--for I could not help regarding these reports as signals, perhaps signals of distress.

I thought it well now to make a response. I raised my gun, let fly both barrels, then I drew my revolver from its case and discharged, at regular intervals, all six cartridges, saying, as I did so, "We'll try what that will do, Patch."

Very little time elapsed before I had my answer. The signal was repeated.

It may be imagined what I felt. The knowledge that there was really some person there was pleasing; it was also extremely agitating. I rejoiced that I should soon greet a fellow-creature; that I was not alone in that vast region, in that wilderness of snow and ice. This knowledge was quite overpowering--for a few seconds I could neither speak nor move.

Quickly, however, recovering some composure, I hurried on after Patch, who was rushing ahead and barking vehemently.

Those shots had seemingly been fired on the far side of a low bare hill, which I hurried up, cheering on the dog, making my way with all the speed I could to the summit of the ridge. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to note the course I must take to return to our creek.

This hill was steeper than it looked to be; it took me some time to mount it, and when at last I stood upon its top I saw no sign of life, nothing but the vast snow-fields, sprinkled here and there with black pines.

Here I fired again, Patch all the time barking exuberantly, and I, feeling sure that I was on the point of some wonderful discovery, felt very strange.

As I stood panting with the exertion of my climb through that chill dry air, I wondered what I could possibly expect to find in those terrific wilds--rough miners, possibly Indians, more likely some one as unfortunate as myself, that was all.

However, the response to my signal was not delayed; down in the valley below there was what appeared to be a door thrown open. A flood of light shone forth, and in the glare of it there stood a figure, whether man or woman, friend or foe, I did not stay to consider--I just bowed my head in thankfulness. This person discharged a double-barrelled gun, then, running out, brandished a blazing firebrand to attract attention evidently, at which I started forward.

I soon had to stop, out of breath, and then I heard the outcry of a human being, and what was most astonishing, it seemed to be the voice of a woman in distress.