Left on the Labrador Part 18

Several times he fell, and regaining his feet rushed madly and blindly about in vain hope of finding the lost trail and escaping the doom that seemed closing in upon him. The snow clouds were like dense walls, and he, like a child, in puny effort wildly trying to batter them down to gain his freedom.

Finally exhaustion overtook him, and with it a degree of reason. His legs were weak and quivering with their effort. He began to realize that he had been depending upon them to extricate him from the trackless marsh in which he wandered, instead of using reason. Limp and trembling as a result of the mad fear that had taken possession of him, and the tremendous physical exertion he had been putting forth, he stopped and with wild, still frightened eyes gazed at the walls of snow that surrounded him like an impa.s.sable barrier.

Then his brain began to function and his reason to return. He knew that he must reach the cover of the forest, where the trees would shelter him from the blasts that swept the marsh. There he would find some measure of protection at least, and in any case the forest lay between him and the cabin at Double Up Cove.

He recalled that time and again Toby had said to him, "Dad's wonderful fine at gettin' out o' fixes, and he always does un by usin' his head."

And Skipper Zeb himself had said, "When a man gets into a fix 'tis mostly because he don't use his head, and 'tis his head has to get he out of un. His legs and his hands won't help he, unless his head tells un what to do."

That was logical and reasonable. He was now in a "fix," and a worse fix indeed than that in which he and Toby had found themselves on Swile Island. Charley crouched with his back to the snow-laden blasts while he tried to gather his senses and his poise, and these thoughts flashing through his mind, gave him courage. It was bitterly cold and he knew that he must soon find shelter or he would perish. In his mad panic, he had not only lost knowledge of direction, but had expended much of his strength.

Slowly it occurred to him that the wind blew across the marsh from the direction of the forest and toward the barrens, and was in his back when he followed the ptarmigans. This being the case, he reasoned, he must _face_ the wind to regain the forest.

He was somewhere in the marsh. He knew that. The forest must lie _up_ the wind. It was suffocating and paralyzing work to face it, but in that direction alone lay the only chance for escape and safety. His very life depended upon reaching the forest, and reaching it soon, and he turned boldly to it.

With renewed courage, he fought his way forward step by step. He would walk but a little way, when dense snow clouds would force him to turn his back upon them to regain his breath. But he kept going, now and again stumbling and falling and then getting to his feet again to stumble on a little farther. The distance seemed interminable, and several times he was on the point of giving up the struggle in despair.

Then it was that he collided with a tree. An outpost of the forest! His heart leaped with hope. With renewed vigour he plunged forward into wind and snow cloud, and a moment later was under the blessed shelter of the trees.

The wind raged through the tree tops, but the thick growth of the spruce forest protected him. He did not know where he was, and could see no familiar thing. Finally, too weary to go farther, he crawled under the low branches of a tree to rest.

Charley was dozing and half unconscious when a distant crash startled him into wakefulness. What could it have been? He listened intently.

Then it came again, and he sprang to his feet excitedly. He had no doubt now. It was the report of a rifle, and some one was within hearing.

Through all his struggle in the marsh, Charley had unconsciously clung to Toby's shotgun. He fired one barrel, and then the other. An answering shot rang out above the roar of the wind, and not so far away now. He ran in the direction from which it came. Then came another shot, now quite near, and a moment later he saw Toby hurrying toward him.

Charley's heart leaped with joy and relief. How good Toby looked! Dear Toby, who always seemed to be on hand when he was needed!

"You looks fair scragged!" greeted Toby. "Were you gettin' lost?"

"Lost--I was lost out on the barrens and the marsh!" and Charley was scarce able to choke back tears of joy and relief.

Toby after the manner of woodsmen had brought his ax. He quickly cut some wood, and in a few moments had a rousing fire. Then he cut some poles, and made a lean-to, which he thatched thickly with boughs, and within it made a couch of boughs where they could sit before the fire protected from the storm.

While Toby prepared and broiled two of the ptarmigans, Charley told the story of his experiences.

"I was scared stiff," said Charley in closing. "If I had done as you told me to do, and gone straight home when the snow began it wouldn't have happened. But I didn't know a storm could come up like that, or how bad it could get in a few minutes."

"You were usin' your head when you goes up the wind, and that gets you out of a wonderful bad fix," said Toby. "Dad says the only way to get out of fixes is to use your head, and he knows."

There was never a word of reproach from Toby for not having heeded his advice, and for this Charley was grateful.

XVII

SKIPPER ZEB'S DOGS

Long Tom Ham was glad to have the care of Skipper Zeb's dogs during the summer. There was always enough food from the sea for them during the fishing season, and a supply of seal meat from the spring sealing to feed them in the fall, after the fishing season was ended. And to compensate him for caring for the dogs, he had them to haul his winter's wood in from the forest, before returning them to Skipper Zeb, which he always did after the bay was frozen and his fall hauling was finished.

In summer, with no work to do, and as much to eat as ever they wished, the dogs were sleek and fat and lazy, and quite harmless. But with the close of the fishing season they were given but one meal a day, and that in the evening, and only enough to keep them strong and in good condition, for fat dogs will not work well.

With frosty weather and less food they roused from their lethargy. Then it was that they became savage, snapping creatures, with no more affection for man than has the wild wolf, which was their ancestor. Long Tom Ham declared that Skipper Zeb's dogs were the most "oncivil team of dogs he ever knew."

Toby and Charley, a week after the big storm, were returning home at midday after a morning in the forest setting marten traps, when, just as they came around the corner of the cabin, and the bay below them came into view, Toby exclaimed:

"There's Skipper Tom comin' with the dogs and komatik!"[6]

For the first time in his life Charley saw dogs in harness. They were still a half mile away, the animals spread out in fan-shaped formation, and trotting leisurely. As they approached nearer the cabin they broke into a run, as though eager to reach their destination, and with short yelps swung off of the ice and came charging up to the cabin where Charley and Toby were awaiting them.

Skipper Tom Ham, his beard encrusted with ice, disembarked from the komatik, and Charley thought him the tallest man he had ever seen.

"'Ere I ham, and 'ow are you hall?" greeted Skipper Tom through his ice mask, as he extended a hand to Toby and then to Charley.

"We're all well," said Toby. "Were you gettin' your wood all hauled?"

"Aye, hall my wood is 'auled, and I'm most thankful I 'ad the dogs to 'aul un, and most thankful to be rid of un. So Hi'm twice thankful,"

said Skipper Tom following Toby and Charley into the house to join them at dinner, picking the ice from his beard as he talked.

"Them's the most honcivil dogs I knows," remarked Skipper Tom, as he ate. "Hi comes 'ome from my traps last hevenin' and I sees Martha sittin' hup on the scaffold where I keeps the dog meat, and the dogs hall haround lookin' at 'er. When she sees me she yells the dogs be hafter 'er, and I says to 'er that they thinks she his goin' to feed 'em, and she says she thinks they his goin' to heat 'er. Hi tells 'er to come down, and she comes, and when we gets hinto the 'ouse she says, 'Tom, you take them dogs right hover to Skipper Zeb's,' and so Hi brings the honcivil beasts hover."

Tom chuckled at the recollection of his wife's fear and her appearance on the scaffold the evening before. When he was through he said he must return at once, or Martha would think the dogs had eaten him. Toby suggested taking Skipper Tom home with dogs and komatik, but Skipper Tom declined on the ground that it was just a wee bit of a walk, and he would rather walk and look for partridges along sh.o.r.e as he went. The ten mile walk to Lucky Bight was no hardship to Skipper Tom.

The coming of the dogs was an exciting incident to Charley. They were big, handsome creatures, though with a fierce, evil look, and a sneaking manner that made Charley feel uncomfortable when they were loosed from harness, and had liberty to prowl about at will.

"'Tis a wonderful team," Toby declared proudly. "They comes from Nuth'ard dogs, though we raises they all from pups. Some of un has wild wolves for fathers. Tinker there is one, and so are Rocks and Sampson.

They comes from the same litter. That un over there is Nancy. I names she from a schooner that calls at Pinch-In Tickle every spring. That un next she, with the end of his tail gone, is Traps. Whilst he were a pup he gets the end of his tail in a trap, and loses the end of un. I remember his howlin' yet! Nancy and Traps be brother and sister. Tucker and Skipper and Molly are the names of the others. We gets un from the Post when they's just weaned and are wee pups. They tells us they has wild wolf fathers too, but I'm not knowin'."

"That man that brought them told me, when I went to pat one of them on the head, that they were bad, and not to touch them," said Charley.

"You can't trust un," admitted Toby. "I knows un all, and I plays with un when they's pups, but if I were trippin' and fallin' down among un now, I'm not doubtin' they's tear me abroad."

"After you raised them from pups, and always had them, and feed them and everything?" asked Charley, horrified at the suggestion.

"Aye, they has no care for man, and whilst they'll mind me a wonderful sight better than they'd be mindin' a stranger to un, they'd be tearin'

me abroad if they has the chance just like a band o' wolves," warned Toby.

"They don't look so terrible, though they do look sneaky, as you told me the other day they are," said Charley.

"Aye, sneaky, and as I tells you, 'tis never safe to go abroad among un unless you has a stick in your hand, and if they comes close strike at un. They're wonderful afraid of a stick. When they gets used to you, just kick at un, and 'twill keep un off, and then you won't be needin' a stick."

"I'll look out for them," Charley promised.

"Tinker's the leader in harness," said Toby. "He were always quick to learn, and I trains he whilst he were a pup when I plays with he before he's big enough to drive with the other dogs. Sampson's the boss, and out of harness he has his will of un. He's a bad fighter."

"He's an ugly looking brute," observed Charley.