Left on the Labrador Part 12

"What is it?" whispered Charley, as both dropped to the ground and Toby crawled up beside him.

"Deer!" whispered Toby. "See un! Right ahead!"

Then for the first time Charley saw a big caribou, nosing in the snow and feeding leisurely.

"What'll I do?" asked Charley.

"'Tis a fine shot!" answered Toby. "Be wonderful careful o' your aim, and shoot!"

Charley was all atremble as he brought the rifle to his shoulder for his first shot at any game. In spite of all he could do, the muzzle of the rifle would not behave, and before he was aware of it he pulled the trigger, and the shot went wild.

"Try un again! Try un again before he runs!" plead Toby.

Charley fired again and then again, but with no better success, and the caribou, now taking alarm, turned and disappeared into the forest.

"You misses that un," said Toby, not in the least perturbed, now that the caribou had gone. "'Tis hard to hit un the first time you tries."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" and Charley could scarce control his voice in excitement and disappointment. "It was nearer than the target we shot at! How _could_ I miss it?"

"You gets nervous the first time you tries, the way most folks does,"

soothed Toby. "Next time you'll get un."

It was Thursday evening of the following week when they again reached the tilt at Black River and the boat. Both boys were tired but happy, and Charley, who had shot his first partridge with Toby's rifle that morning, told Skipper Zeb that he had had the best time he ever had in all his life.

"That's the way to talk, lad! That's the way!" and Skipper Zeb slapped him on the shoulder, his characteristic method of expressing approval.

"You has the makin's in you of a fine trapper and hunter. You fits yourself to what you has to meet and to do, whether 'tis a bit hard or whether 'tis easy. 'Twere a long way for young legs that's not used to un. Bein' on the path settin' up traps is a wonderful sight different from bein' snug and warm with a good bed o' nights at home. You lads stands un like old hands at un."

"Thank you, Skipper," and Charley was proud, as was Toby, at the word of praise. Every one likes to be praised for an act well done, or done to the best of one's ability, and Skipper Zeb, who in a crude way was a student of human nature, and carried a gentle, affectionate heart in his bosom, never failed to speak a word of praise where it was deserved. He knew that a kindly word of appreciation for a deed well done, often proved an incentive to greater effort. A little flower handed to the living is better than a wreath placed upon the casket of the dead.

Skipper Zeb gave his flowers of kindliness to those about him while they lived and could enjoy them.

"Now, lads," said Skipper Zeb when they had finished their evening meal, and he was puffing his pipe comfortably by the warm stove, "I has a line o' traps to set up to the east'ard of the tilt that I weren't settin'

up before we goes in, and two days' work to do about here whatever.

We've been havin' a long spell o' fine weather like we mostly has before winter sets in hard. The wind is shiftin', and before to-morrow night, whatever, there'll be snow. Early in the marnin' I thinks you had better start back with the boat, and be gettin' snug at Double Up Cove before the snow comes."

"When'll you be gettin' home, Dad?" asked Toby.

"I'll be gettin' home the Sat.u.r.day or Sunday before Christmas, whatever," promised Skipper Zeb, "and I'll be stayin' for a fortnight holiday when I comes."

"Won't you be home before then?" asked Charley in astonishment.

"No, I has to keep tendin' the traps once I sets un," explained Skipper Zeb. "'Tis the only way to get fur."

"I should think you'd get dreadfully lonesome on the trail alone," said Charley, "and we'll miss you."

"A busy man's not havin' time to get lonesome. 'Tis only idleness that makes for lonesomeness."

The sky was heavily clouded the following morning, and a brisk northeasterly breeze, cold and raw, was blowing. Toby and Charley bade good-bye to Skipper Zeb, and hoisting the sail departed for Double Up Cove.

"The breeze'll be helpin' you now," shouted Skipper Zeb from the sh.o.r.e.

"Make the most of un, and don't be takin' too much time to boil the kettle at Swile Island!"

"Aye," shouted Toby, "we'll be makin' the most of un."

Charley watched Skipper Zeb standing on the sh.o.r.e and looking longingly after them, and then turn back to his lonely work in the wilderness, and he, himself, felt suddenly very lonely.

With unexpected suddenness the wind rose to half a gale before they had spanned two-thirds of the distance to Swile Island. The boat shipped several seas, and while Charley bailed the water out, all of Toby's seamanship was required to keep her on her course, until at length, to their great relief, a landing was made on the lee side of the island.

"I was sure we'd be wrecked again!" exclaimed Charley when he and Toby, dripping wet, had hauled the prow of the boat upon the sloping rock of the island sh.o.r.e.

"'Twere a bit rough," admitted Toby. "We'll have to bide here till the wind goes down, and I'm thinkin' there'll be snow before we gets the kettle boiled."

"And we haven't any tent!" exclaimed Charley in consternation.

"We'll be makin' a lean-to with the sail," suggested Toby. "We'll not find un so bad. We'll make un before we boils the kettle."

The boat was unloaded, and under the lee of a big rock, where they were protected from the wind also by a grove of spruce trees, Toby selected two trees about seven feet apart, and five feet from the ground and lashed a pole from tree to tree. He then cut several poles, and arranged them evenly with one end resting upon the pole which he had lashed to the tree and the other end sloping back to the ground. To make the sloping poles secure and hold them in place, he laid another pole between the trees, and on top of the sloping poles, lashing this also firmly into place, and then placed a log over the ends of the poles on the ground to hold them in position.

With Charley's a.s.sistance he now spread the boat sail over the poles, and tied it into place. Then at each end of the lean-to be and Charley placed a thick barricade of spruce brush. A floor of boughs finished and made comfortable the shelter, and a fire built against a rock in front of it, that the rock might serve as a reflector, soon made the lean-to warm and snug.

There was no abatement of wind, and snow was falling thickly before they had finished eating, and when they were through, Toby suggested:

"I'm thinkin' we'd better haul the boat up farther and turn she over."

"All right," agreed Charley, "let's do it now. It don't look as though we'd get off the island to-day."

"Not till the wind stops, whatever," said Toby. "We may have to bide here two or three days, _I'm_ thinkin'."

This was a new adventure. Charley rather enjoyed the prospect of it, and Toby perhaps equally as well, and as they walked down to their landing place they chatted merrily about what they would do, when all at once both boys stopped and looked at each other aghast. The boat was not there!

"She's gone!" exclaimed Toby. "The tide were risin' up and floatin' she off!"

"What shall we do?" asked Charley in dismay. "We can't get off the island without a boat!"

"'Tis a bad fix," confessed Toby. "They's no way o' gettin' off the island without the boat. I'm not knowin' rightly what to do. 'Tis the worst fix I _ever_ were in!"

The snow was now falling heavily, driven in thick, swirling clouds by the gale. Everywhere they looked along the sh.o.r.e, in the vain hope that the boat may have drifted in at some other point, and eagerly they looked out into the drifting clouds of snow in the equally vain hope that it might be seen floating near enough to the sh.o.r.e to be recovered by some means. But nowhere was it to be seen, and the two boys, depressed by a sense of helplessness to extricate themselves from the small, isolated and nearly barren island that had so suddenly become their prison, turned back to the partial protection of their improvised shelter.

Disconsolate, they sat under the lean-to and talked over their dilemma while the snow beyond the fire grew thicker, and the wind shrieked and howled dismally through the trees.

"You thinks 'twere bad when the ship leaves you at Pinch-In Tickle,"

said Toby finally, "but we're gettin' in a wonderful sight worse fix!"

"Yes," agreed Charley dejectedly, "of all that's happened, this is the worst fix of all."

"All we has to eat," continued Toby, "is half a loaf o' bread, a small bit o' pork and enough tea for one or two days, besides the three geese Dad were sendin' home to Mother."

"Perhaps we can get some game on the island?" suggested Charley.