The Fiery Totem Part 13

Picking up his rifle and bidding Alf take his gun, Mackintosh at once made a move towards that part of the bush where Bob had last been seen.

Haggis and the dog Bannock quickly followed, and the former moved with all the quiet swiftness of a native who was used to meeting the unexpected emergencies of life without being in any degree fl.u.s.tered.

That life had many times been in danger, and its safety had only been attained by being in a constant state of readiness.

By instinctive acknowledgment of the presence of a superior craftsman, the two white men yielded the place of leader to Haggis, who quickly discovered the tracks that Bob's progress had left behind. The imprint of a rabbit's foot would not have escaped notice from such eyes as those of the half-breed, who had been trained in all forest lore from his babyhood. Hence it was mere child's play for him to pick up the track of top-boots, as well as the traces that had been made by the displacement of gra.s.ses and thorns.

Meantime the distant shots were continued at intervals, until Holden counted twenty in all.

Poor boy! It was little to be wondered at that he urged Haggis to press on with greater speed, for now he was certain that his chum must be in a terrible fix, out from which there was no self-help. He would hardly waste cartridges so recklessly were he not in some dire extremity.

"For goodness' sake, hurry!" the boy exclaimed, for even the rapid walking in Indian file was all too slow for the patience of one who was pressing to the rescue of his friend.

But the half-breed did not change the pace.

"We step enough quick for bush-track," he said, without turning. "We no'

wish lose track. On prairie we go quick--run; but in bush slow."

"The Haggis is right," completed Mackintosh, whose position was third in the procession. "It's no' good to be too quick. We might lose the trail, and that would mean a vexatious delay to find it again."

Alf was forced to acknowledge the truth of the reasoning, though it was a hard task for him to curb the desire to make a mad dash forward and take his chance of keeping in the right track.

Then the half-breed stopped for a few moments and bent low to examine the ground and the surrounding scrub.

"What is it?" questioned Holden. "Have you lost it?"

Haggis shrugged his shoulders.

"Lost? No. Haggis no' lose track. But he find others--deer. White boy shoot deer, but no kill. Deer jump--run--white boy follow quick--there--there!"

As he spoke the half-breed rapidly pointed at the various signs that he had interpreted. They were plain enough to the native eye, and in a lesser degree to the sight of the Scotsman. But Alf's inexperience could only distinguish an occasional displacement of the undergrowth, though he was well content to rely on the opinions of those who were more versed than he in woodcraft.

Again the rescuers hastened onwards, with Bannock bringing up the rear, and when at last they came to a part of the bush where the trees were somewhat fewer, Haggis suddenly stopped and pointed straight in front of him, exclaiming the one sound--

"Ha!"

Holden was at the native's side in an instant.

"What is it? Where? What do you see?" he exclaimed.

"In middle of gra.s.s--see!"

Alf looked, but all that he saw was a head and shoulders that apparently rested on the gra.s.s without any lower limbs. The poor lad was indeed in the depth of extremity, and he was almost faint with exhaustion.

"Bob!" cried Holden in an agony of distress, and darted for the clearing.

But he had barely crossed a couple of yards before a pair of strong hands gripped him and kept him from moving.

"No! No! You dare not--" said Mackintosh; but the lad struggled frantically to free himself from the powerful grip.

"Let me go! Let me go! Can't you see that Bob is lying hurt?" he cried frantically.

But the hands did not relax their grasp.

"Wait, laddie," said the man's kindly voice. "Wait, or we'll be having two lives to account for. Yon's a muskeg--a living bog. It's death to them that sets a careless foot on yon green gra.s.s."

Instantly Alf's struggles ceased, and for the moment he was limp in the arms that supported him. The horror of learning of his friend's plight struck him dumb and suspended the power to move.

"Come, come, laddie. You mustn't give in. Your friend's life depends on your strength."

Mackintosh was a man of the world, whose experience enabled him to be a good judge of character. And he well knew the sort of counsel that would inevitably stir all that was best in the boy and lend strength to his pluck. He judged rightly, for immediately Alf straightened himself with set lips, steady eyes, and controlled nerves.

"Forgive me," he said quietly. "But it knocked me over to think of Bob--out there."

"I'm no' blaming you, laddie. But you'll need all your strength now, for I think that your friend is past helping himself--or nearly." Then Mackintosh faced the muskeg, and called loudly.

"Hullo! Bob! Can you hear me?"

Very slowly the eyelids were seen to open, the head moved slightly.

"Can you hold out for a bit longer? Can you get a coat under your arms if I send it to you?" were the next questions.

The boy did not answer at once. He seemed dazed, and the man repeated his questions.

Then came the answer, spoken weakly and with an apparent great effort.

"I'll try. But--come--quickly----" And the eyes half closed again.

"That's right. Hold on for a wee bit, and we'll have you oot o' that mess in a jiffy!"

Without pausing to explain his intentions, Mackintosh then quickly stripped off his leather hunting-jacket, emptied the pockets of all that could weight it, and called Bannock to his side.

"See, Bannock," he said, "I'm going to tie a sleeve to your collar--like this. Now you must go over there. Do you see? Right over there where someone needs your help."

He pointed towards Bob as he spoke, and the intelligent collie looked straight in the direction indicated. He had often had game pointed out to him in the same way, so quickly understood what was wanted of him.

"Off you go!" his master then commanded. "Off you go--quick--quick!"

The dog needed no second bidding. He sprang forward at once towards the hapless boy, dragging the coat with him.

"Bannock's coming!" shouted Mackintosh. "When he's there, grip the coat and lean on it. He'll no' move when I bid him stay."

"All right," came the faint reply.

The ground that was so treacherous to the heavy boots of the incautious hunter could play no similar tricks with the light tread of the collie, and in a few seconds he had reached the goal.

"Lie down!" the great voice rang out, and the animal immediately crouched close to the boy, who had just strength enough left to lay hold of the jacket in such a way that it formed a slight support of a temporary nature, to check further sinking for the time.

But how to draw the boy from the slough? That was the next problem.