Masters of the Wheat-Lands Part 44

Charly made no answer, though the dusky-skinned Siwash grunted, and in a few more minutes they silently commenced their meal, which was promptly finished. They struck the tent, and packed it with their sleeping-bags and provisions upon the sled, and then, taking up the traces, set out across the ice. The light had grown clearer now, and the snow was thinning, but it still whirled about them, and lay piled in drawn-out wreaths to lee of every hummock or ragged ridge. They floundered knee-deep, and in the softer places the weight upon the traces grew unpleasantly heavy. That, however, was not a thing any of them felt the least desire to complain of, and it was indeed a matter of regret to them that they were not harnessed to a heavier burden. There was a snow-wrapped desolation in front of them, and they had lost a number of small comforts and part of their provisions in making a landing. Whether the provisions could be replaced they did not know.

The small supply of food was an excellent reason for pus.h.i.+ng on as fast as possible, and they stumbled and floundered forward until late in the afternoon. The ice became more rugged and broken as they proceeded. The snow had ceased, but the drifts which stretched across their path were plentiful, and they were in the midst of one when it seemed to Wyllard, who was leading, that they were sinking much deeper than usual. The snow was over the tops of his long boots, the sled seemed very heavy, and he could hear his comrades floundering savagely. There was a cry behind him, and he was jerked suddenly backwards for a pace or two until he flung himself down at full length in the snow. After that he was drawn back no further, but the strain upon the trace became almost insupportable, and there was still a furious scuffling behind him.

In a moment or two, however, the strain slackened, and looking round, he saw Charly waist-deep in the snow. Charly struggled out with difficulty, holding on by the trace, but the sled had vanished, and it was with grave misgivings that Wyllard scrambled to his feet. They hauled with all their might, and after a tense effort, that left them gasping, dragged the sled back into sight. Part of its load, however, had been left behind in the yawning hole.

Charly went back a pace or two cautiously until he once more sank to the waist, and they had some trouble in dragging him clear. Then he sat down on the sled, and Wyllard stood still looking at the holes in the snow.

"Did you feel anything under you?" he asked at length in a jarring voice.

"I didn't," said Charly simply. "It was only the trace saved me from dropping through altogether, but if I'd gone a little further I'd have been in the water. Kind of snow bridge over a crevice. We broke it up, and the sled fell through."

Wyllard turned and flung the tent, their sleeping-bags, and the few packages which had not fallen out of the sled, after which he hastily opened one or two of them. His companions looked at them with apprehension in their eyes until he spoke again.

"The provisions may last a week or so, if we cut down rations," he said.

He could not remember afterwards whether anybody suggested it, and he believed that the same idea occurred to all of them at once, but in another moment or two they set about undoing the traces from the sled, and making them secure about their bodies. For half an hour they made perilous attempt after attempt to recover the lost provisions, and failed. The snow broke through continuously beneath the foremost man, but it did not break away altogether, and they could not tell what lay beneath it when they had drawn him out of the hole. When it became evident that the attempt was useless, sitting on the sled, they held a brief council.

"I guess we don't want to go back," said Charly. "It's quite likely we've crossed a good many of these crevices, and the snow's getting soft. Besides, Dampier will have hauled off and headed for the inlet by now."

He spoke quietly, though his face was grave. Pausing a moment, he waved his hand. "It seems to me," he added, "we have got to fetch the inlet while the provisions last."

"Exactly," agreed Wyllard. "Since the chart shows a river between us and it, the sooner we start the better. If the thaw holds, the stream will break up the ice on it."

The Indian, who made no suggestion, grunted what appeared to be concurrence, and they silently set to work to reload the sled. That done, they took up the traces and floundered on again into the gathering dimness and a thin haze of driving snow. Darkness had fallen when they made camp again, and sat, worn-out and aching in every bone, about the sputtering lamp inside the little straining tent. The meal they made was a very frugal one, and they lay down in the darkness after it, for half their store of oil had been left behind in the crevice. They spoke seldom, for the second disaster had almost crushed the courage out of them, and it was clear to all that it would be only by a strenuous effort that they could reach the inlet before their provisions quite ran out. They slept, however, and rising in a stinging frost next morning set out again on the weary march, but it was slow traveling, and at noon they left the tent and poles behind.

"In another few days," said Wyllard, "we'll leave the sled."

They made the beach that afternoon, though the only sign of it was the fringe of more ragged ice and the white slope beyond. A thin haze hung about them heavy with rime, and they could not see more than a quarter of a mile ahead. When darkness fell they sc.r.a.ped out a hollow beneath what seemed to be a snow-covered rock, and sat upon their sleeping-bags.

The cooking-lamp gave little heat. Having eaten, they huddled close together with part of their aching bodies upon the sled, but none of them slept much that night, for the cold was severe.

The morning broke clear and warmer, and Wyllard, climbing to the summit of the rock, had a brief glimpse of the serrated summits of a great white range that rose to the west and south. It, however, faded like a vision while he watched it, and turning he looked out across the rolling wilderness that stretched away to the north. Nothing broke its gleaming monotony, and there was no sign of life anywhere in the vast expanse.

They set out after breakfast, breaking through a thin crust of snow, which rendered the march almost insuperably difficult, and they had made a league or two by the approach of night. The snow had grown softer, and the thawing surface would not bear the sled, which sank in the slush beneath. Still, they floundered on for a while after darkness fell, and then lay down in a hollow. A fine rain poured down on them.

Somehow they slept, and, though this was more difficult, got upon their feet again when morning came, for of all the hard things the wanderer in rain-swept bush or frozen wilderness must bear, there is none that tests his powers more than, in the early dawn, the bracing of himself for another day of effort. Comfortless as the night's lair has been, the jaded body craves for such faint warmth as it afforded, and further rest; the brain is dull and heavy, and the aching limbs appear incapable of supporting the weight on them. Difficulties loom appallingly large in the faint creeping light, courage fails, and the will grows feeble.

Wyllard and his companions felt all this, but it was clear to them that they could not dally, with their provisions out, and staggering out of camp after a very scanty meal they hauled the sled through the slush for an hour or so. Then they had stopped, gasping, and the Indian slipped out of the traces.

"We've hauled that thing about far enough," said Charly, who dropped the traces, too, and slipped away from the sled.

Wyllard stood looking at them for a moment or two with anxious eyes. It was evident that they could haul the hampering load no further, and he was troubled by an almost insupportable weariness.

"In that case," he said, "you have to decide what you'll leave behind."

They discussed the subject for some minutes, partly because it furnished an excuse for sitting upon the sled, though none of them had much doubt as to the result of the council. It was unthinkable that they should sacrifice a sc.r.a.p of the provisions. Then, when each man had lashed a light load upon his shoulders with a portion of the cut-up traces, they set out again, and it rained upon them heavily all that day.

During the four following days they were buffeted by a furious wind, but the temperature had risen, and the snow was melting fast, and splas.h.i.+ng knee-deep through slush and water they made progress. While he stumbled along with the pack-straps galling his shoulders, Wyllard was conscious of little beyond the unceasing pain in his joints and the leaden heaviness of his limbs. The recollection of that march haunted him like a horrible nightmare long afterwards, when each sensation and incident emerged from the haze of numbing misery. He remembered that he stormed at Charly, who lagged behind now and then in a fit of languid dejection, and that once he fell heavily, and was sensible of a half-conscious regret that he was still capable of going on, when the Indian dragged him to his feet again. They rarely spoke to one another, and noticed nothing beyond the strip of white waste, through which uncovered brown patches commenced to break, immediately in front of them, except when they crossed some low elevation and looked down upon the stretch of dull gray water not far away on one hand. The breeze had swept the ice away, and that was rea.s.suring, because it meant that Dampier would be at the inlet when they reached it, though now and then a horrible fear that their strength would fail them or that their provisions would run out first, crept in.

Their faces had grown gaunt and haggard, and each scanty meal had been cut down to the smallest portion which would keep life and power of movement within them. Still, though the weight of it hampered him almost intolerably, Wyllard clung to the one rifle that they had saved from the disaster at the landing and a dozen cartridges. This was a folly about which he and Charly once had virulent words.

At last they came to a river which flowed across their path, and lay down beside it, feeling that the end was not far away. Except in the eddies and shallows, the ice had broken up, and the stream swirled by in raging flood, thick with heavy ma.s.ses which it had brought down from its higher reaches. The ice crashed upon the gleaming spurs that here and there projected from the half-thawed fringe, and smashed with a harsh crackling among the boulders, and there was no doubt as to what would befall the stoutest swimmer who might attempt the pa.s.sage. So far as Wyllard afterwards remembered, none of them said anything when they lay down among the wet stones, but with the first of the daylight they started up stream. The river was not a large one, and it seemed just possible that they might find a means of crossing higher up, though they afterwards admitted that this was a great deal more than they expected.

The ground rose sharply, and the stream flowed out of a deep ravine which they followed. The rocks were of volcanic origin, and some of them had crumbled into heaps of ragged debris. The slope of the ravine became a talus along which it was almost impossible to scramble, and they were forced back upon the boulders and the half-thawed ice in the slacker pools.

They made progress, notwithstanding all the obstacles in their way, and when evening drew near found a little clearer s.p.a.ce between rock and river. The Indian had wrenched his knee, and when they stopped to make camp among the rocks it was some little time before he overtook them. He said that he had found the tracks of some animal which he believed had gone up the ravine. What the beast was he did not know, but he was sure that it was, at least, large enough to eat, and that appeared to be of the most importance then. He would not, however, take the rifle. Nothing could compel him to drag himself another rod that night, he said, and the others, who had noticed how he limped, accepted his decision. With an expressionless face he sat down among the stones, and Charly decided that it was Wyllard's part to pick the trail.

"You could beat me every time at trailing or shooting when we went ash.o.r.e on the American side, and I'm not sorry to let it go at that now," he said.

Wyllard smiled grimly. "And I've carried this rifle a week on top of my other load. You can't shoot when you're dead played out."

They called in the Indian and gave the rifle to him. He gravely pointed to Wyllard.

Charly grinned for the first time in several days.

"Well," he remarked, "in this case I guess I've no objections to let it be as he suggests."

Wyllard resignedly took up the rifle and strode wearily out of camp.

There was, he knew, scarcely an hour's daylight left, and already the dimness seemed a little more marked down in the hollow. He, however, found the place where the Indian had seen the animal's track, and as there was a wall of rock on one side, up which he believed the beast could not scramble, he pushed on up stream beside the ice. There was nothing to guide him, but he was a little surprised to feel that his perceptions, which had been dull and dazed for the last few days, were growing clearer. He noticed the different sounds the river made, and picked out the sharp crackle of ice among the stones, though he had hitherto been conscious only of a hoa.r.s.e, pulsating roar. The rocks also took distinctive shapes instead of looming in blurred ma.s.ses before his heavy eyes, and he found himself gazing with strained attention into each strip of deeper shadow. Still, though he walked cautiously, there was no sign of any life in the ravine. He was horribly weary, and now and then he set his lips as he stumbled noisily among the stones, but he pushed on beside the water while the deep hollow grew dimmer and more shadowy.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE UNEXPECTED

After a hard tramp Wyllard felt a troublesome dizziness creeping over him, and he sat down upon a boulder with the rifle across his knees. He had eaten little in the last few days, which had been spent in arduous exertion, and now the leaden weariness which he had fought against since morning threatened to overcome him. In addition to this, he was oppressed by a black dejection, which, though his mind had never been clearer, reacted upon his failing physical powers, for it was now evident that he and his companions could not reach the inlet while their provisions held out. There was no longer any doubt that he had involved the two faithful men in disaster, and the knowledge that he had done so was bitter.

With haggard face he sat gazing up the ravine. Although he scarcely imagined that either of the others had expected anything, he shrank from going back as empty-handed as when he had left them. The light was getting very dim, but he could still see the ice fringe upon the pool in front of him, and a ma.s.s of rock that rose black against the creeping dusk not very far away. Beyond it on the one side there seemed to be a waste of stones amid which a few wreaths of snow still gleamed lividly.

Then a wall of rock scarcely distinguishable in the shadow shut in the hollow.

The hollow was filled with the hoa.r.s.e roar of the river and the sharp crash and crackle of stream-driven ice, but by and by the worn-out man started as he caught another faint sound which suggested the clink of a displaced stone. His hands closed hard upon the rifle, but he sat very still, listening with strained attention until he heard the sound again.

Then a thrill ran through him, for he was quite certain of it's meaning.

A stone had rolled over higher up the gorge, and he rose and crept forward, cautiously, keeping the detached rock between him and the upper portion of the ravine. Once or twice a stone clattered noisily beneath his feet, and he stopped for a moment or two, wondering with tense anxiety whether the sound could be heard at any distance through the roar of the river. This was a much more serious business than crawling through the long gra.s.s for a shot at the prairie antelope, when in ease of success it had seemed scarcely worth while to pack the tough and stringy venison back to the homestead.

By and by he heard the clatter of a displaced stone again, and this time the sound was so distinct and near that it puzzled him. The wild creatures of the waste were, he knew, always alert, and their perception of an approaching danger was wonderful. It seemed strange that the beast he was creeping in upon could not hear him, but he realized that he must face the hazard of detection, since in another few minutes it would be too dark to shoot. He had almost reached the rock by this time, and he s.h.i.+fted his grasp on the rifle, holding it thrust forward in front of him while crouching low he looked down for a spot on which to set his foot each time he moved. It would, he knew, be useless to go any further if a stone turned over now. He was fortunate, however, and, strung up to highest tension, he stole into the deeper gloom behind the rock.

A little pool ran in close beneath the rock, but it was covered with ice and slushy snow. Treading cautiously, he crept across it, and held his breath as he moved out from behind the rock. He stopped suddenly, for a man stood face to face with him scarcely a stone's throw away. The stranger's fur-clad figure cut sharply against a gleaming back of snow, and he held a gun in his hand. Though the light had almost gone, it was evident to Wyllard that he was a white man.

They stood very still for several seconds gazing at each other, and then the stranger dropped the b.u.t.t of his weapon and called out sharply, uttering words in a tongue that Wyllard did not recognize. Wyllard did not move and the man spoke again. What he said was still unintelligible, but this time Wyllard knew that he was trying German. When he received only a shake of the head as an answer, the stranger tried again. This time is was French that he spoke.

"You can come forward, comrade," he said.

He did not seem to be hostile, and Wyllard, who tossed his rifle into the hollow of his left arm, moved out a pace or two to meet him.

"You are Russian?" he questioned in the language the other had used, for French is freely spoken in parts of Canada.

The man laughed. "That afterwards," he answered.