A Claim on Klondyke Part 23

"Bears hibernate, you know," was my reply; "they don't make paths like that in winter."

"It must be caribou, or moose--perhaps there are cattle here, or, maybe, it's the track of people!"

"People here!--not likely." I shook my head as I spoke. "Who would be here, do you think?--Indians? Well, that might be, but I fancy they don't come about here at this season."

"Let us travel along it," said she; "it looks to be an easy way.

Whatever made it, appears to have chosen the smoothest route," for we could perceive the trail for some distance winding amongst the scattered timber along the margin of the stream.

Now, my idea was to get as far away from those suspicious footmarks as possible. I wished to take to the middle of the creek, and we did so by-and-by, after I had a.s.sured my companion that I considered the level ice out there promised a better road. But she was not very easily persuaded. I believe she had the idea in her head that this path was made by human beings, and she had, naturally, a strong desire for the fellowship of her kind. As for me, I had no belief in anything but bears, and as for getting amongst people again--I wanted to, simply because it was necessary if we were ever to get home; yet I rather disliked the idea, for I knew well it would be the ending of her sweet companionship.

I cannot quite truly describe how I felt just then. Certainly there was an immense amount of suffering in our life, but I thought little of my share in it, for was I not suffering with May? and I did not look forward with entire pleasure to its ending. Only, for her dear sake, only to put an end to her discomfort, her misery, I knew what my duty was, and did it.

We hauled our load out into the wide white lane and travelled down towards Dawson. And as we moved slowly, laboriously onwards, I rarely took my eyes from where I knew that mysterious trail was winding through the timber.

It was laborious work, truly. The snow was deep, and it was not packed. There averaged three feet of it, then there seemed to be a heavy crust, and if one broke through that, which we often did, we found a layer of slush--half-melted snow--sometimes but a few inches deep, at others a yard or more, and only under this was the solid ice of the river. I used to go ahead with my pole and sound where I thought it looked suspicious. Often I thus steered clear of difficulty, and often I did not, for many a time the load, and May, and I, sunk in to such a depth that it was actually alarming. She bravely suppressed outcries and expressions of fear. She tried to laugh over these deplorable episodes, and sometimes I saw her gaze longingly on what she thought was a much better road in there amongst the trees, but, dear girl, she never tried to argue with me, or even to discuss the reason for my dislike to it.

Before noon our moca.s.sins and leggings were wet and miserable. We ourselves were in a bath of perspiration. It was difficult to believe that it was freezing as hard as ever, and only when, after a few hundred yards of easy going, we halted to take breath, were we aware how cold it was, by our frozen leg-coverings.

We camped for our mid-day food on a brush-clad point on the south side.

It was absolutely still and clear. On taking off our snow-gla.s.ses the light was so painfully dazzling that we understood what snow-blindness meant, and gladly put them on again. I caused May here to change her foot-wear, as we were staying long enough to dry our wet moca.s.sins by the fire. It was a snug corner we had chosen. We had a side view both up and down the Klond.y.k.e and across it.

As we sat, as usual talking of our future, Patch suddenly stood up with bristling mane and gazed across the river. "There's something over there," said I; "that's just as he did when we first heard your shots up the creek there," and we gazed and listened intently, the dog as deeply interested as May and I were.

I, supposing it was bear or wolf that had thus excited Patch, felt thankful that we were on the side we were, and got my gun in order.

Patch's excitement increased. He began to bark. With difficulty I restrained him, and made him lie down. I stopped his barking, but I could not make him cease growling. This excited us, and we watched the opposite sh.o.r.e closely.

May was the first to discover the cause. Two men were tramping along the track across the river!--whether whites or Indians they were too far off to see.

The expression of my dear companion's face at this discovery was peculiar. She was flushed with excitement as she said to me, "Come, let us call to them. Oh, how splendid to see other people,--to realise that we are not alone in this dreadful country!"

Laying my mittened hand on her shoulder, I remarked, "Stop--let us think: they may be friends or foes; we must be cautious. Besides, what do we really want? We know our way, and we have all we need. It is satisfactory to know we are in an inhabited land, that is all."

"Oh, how terribly cautious and careful you are, Bertie!" she exclaimed.

"I should like to run over to those two men and greet them. But you know best; oh, yes, I'm sure you do, forgive my impetuosity--only it is so fine to know that we are really going home."

The two men did not notice us--they kept steadily on: we could just see one was carrying a pack, the other pulling a little laden sledge behind him. They were heading up the river, and in due course would cross our trail, then, perhaps, would follow it, which was a serious aspect of the case indeed! They would not only find our boat, but could trace us to our dug-out, where all was at their mercy. What could be done?

Nothing. We could only put our trust in G.o.d that all would be well.

I kept silence to May on these points, and hoped that she would not be troubled by the same fears.

One thing satisfied us both now, and that was that the trail across the river was really made by people, and from what we saw of the way the strangers got along it, it was very much better than where we had been travelling, so with one accord we packed up, and with a will hauled our sled across the river and hit that trail.

The fresh traces of the men were minutely examined. The leader had worn snow-shoes, the other boots--we could see the heel marks. This hardly pointed to Indians, nor old hands--for all but the greenest tender-feet wear moca.s.sins, in the winter there.

This trail was a great improvement; we moved along it quickly--two miles an hour at least!

We had gone perhaps five miles; it was, we thought, getting on for four that afternoon; we were resting, when against a rather dense growth of firs we thought we saw smoke rising.

Now you must understand that we were both in a flutter of excitement all that afternoon. We had said little to each other about it, but I know we felt that we were likely at any moment to meet with some adventure, pleasant or the reverse. We were all eyes and ears. I could see May glance hurriedly and look intently, now in one direction, now in another. Even the dog appeared to be expecting something: as for me, I knew, of course, that very soon a great change would come in our lives, my thoughts were occupied with this subject, and I was trying to think how I should deal with every episode that I could imagine might arise. Once or twice before, we had stopped to gaze around as May or I had cried, "What is that over there?" But up to the present it had turned out to be merely a curious stump, or uproot, or some such bush object. We were on the _qui vive_.

So we considered for a little that we might be mistaken about this appearance also. It might be a wisp of snow lifted by the wind, or some shaken from the trees by a pa.s.sing breeze: however, I soon saw that it was very blue, that it was rising steadily, that it was no hallucination, and that it was smoke, certainly.

A very momentous time had arrived. "My dear May," I murmured, "that is smoke--that means a camp, most likely of white people. Our lonely life ends the moment we arrive there."

"Oh, what a good thing!" she cried; "but why look so serious?"

"G.o.d knows what will happen to us," said I. "We may find ourselves able at once to go on with comparative ease to Dawson and home. We may find obstacles in our way--bad characters, who knows what? But any way we have up to now, through G.o.d's good mercy, been kept from any great harm, and we will trust Him still."

"Why, of course we will," she interjected: "but why are you so sad?"

"I cannot help feeling sad," I answered, "to know that you and I must now cease to be what we have been to each other; but remember that I shall not leave you, nor cease to help you all I can, until I know you are safe at home in England with your mother. Whatever comes to pa.s.s during the next few hours, or until that happy time arrives, believe in me and trust me."

"My dear Bertie, my great friend, what is come to you? Do you think I'm going to doubt you, or leave you now?"

"I hope not, indeed, indeed," I interjected.

"Why, amongst these rough fellows," she went on, "as, of course, they will be, I shall want you beside me more and more. I shall, I expect, want your protection and advice more perhaps--though that can hardly be--than I have as yet needed it."

"And you shall have it, May--be sure of that," said I.

"One thing is certain, though, that whoever they are, whatever kind of people they may prove to be," she continued, "I shall, as you say, till we reach home and mother, look to you for companionship and guidance.

So don't look any more like that at me; don't be downhearted now, but come, let us hurry on and find out what our fate is."

Then on we went. Within a few minutes we were in sight of a camp.

There were two log-shanties and a shelter or two; a huge chimney smoking, and other signs of humanity; a couple of figures were moving about; we had arrived at the haunts of men again!

We had paid little attention to the trail of late, but now noticed that there were sleigh tracks branching from it here and there--dog's tracks, men's tracks: here were stumps lately cut, there the traces of where logs had been hauled out of the bush. Now we were continually exclaiming to each other about these wonders.

Patch was excited--on the alert. When, a little farther on, he heard dogs barking, it was hard to control him. It was their noise, I suppose, that gave notice of our arrival, for we soon descried two or three persons looking towards us, whilst a couple of fine huskies came bounding through the snow, looking anything but friendly. However, they withdrew as we marched on, and were called off as we got close.

When we at last halted near the first shanty, one man sung out to us, "Welcome, friends! ye'll be frae Quigly Creek, I'll warrant. How goes it there?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WELCOME, FRIENDS."]

Oh, the blessed sound! a friendly human voice--a Scotsman's voice!

"Nay," I answered; "I don't know where we're from exactly--up river somewhere: we've had a pretty hard time of it. What place is this?"

"This place," the kindly voice made answer; "indeed, we canna give it a name--it's just the banks o' the Klond.y.k.e river. But ye'll be prospecting, eh? Have ye had luck? We've had a wee bittie. But come--come in bye; ye'll be gled o' something hot, nae doot, and the mistress 'll soon get the kettle on the boil."

"Mistress! is there a woman here, then? Oh, that is grand! This lady here will be so glad of that," is about what I said.

"Ay, indeed, is there a woman! But who'd have thocht that one o' ye was ane," he laughed; and then shouted, "Hi, Maggie, la.s.s, see here--here's a lady till ye;" but addressing us he went on, "But she isna fit tae' come out into this cold. Come ben the hoose; we'll soon mak' a' richt." With that he led us to the shanty, saying as he did so to the other men, "Let loose the dog, and see the others keep frae it.

We'll hae to take these freends in, and see to them a while, nae doot."

We were delighted with all this friendliness. We entered the shanty; it seemed a palace to us. The door was thickly curtained inside; there was a rough wooden floor, an immense fire roaring in the chimney, a table, chairs, and standing expectant amongst them was a youngish, nice-looking woman, beaming with good-nature.

"Did I hear ye cry there was a lady here?" she asked the man. "But which ane is it?" she went on, looking from May to me. "Ye're baith sae rolled and smoothered up wi' claes and skins I canna tell."