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This text has been proofread but is not guaranteed to be free from errors. Corrections to the original text have been left in place.
Title: Girls on the Gold Trail, an electronic edition
Author: Cowper, E.E. (Edith Elise).
Publisher: Thomas Nelson and Sons, Ltd.
Place published: New York
Date: [19--]
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Image of the front cover from E.E. Cowper's Girls on the Gold Trail.Image of the spine from E.E. Cowper's Girls on the Gold Trail.Pierre Corraine was not alone this time (p. 320)Frontispiece from E.E. Cowper's Girls on the Gold Trail.GIRLS ON THEGOLD TRAILA STORY OF STRANGE ADVENTURESIN THE
    NORTHLANDSBY E. E. COWPER
    AUTHOR OF "MAIDS OF THE MERMAID," "PAM AND THE COUNTESS"
    
"THE MYSTERY OF SAFFRON MANOR"ETC., ETC.THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, LTD.LONDON, EDINBURGH, NEW YORK TORONTO, AND
  PARISTable of Contents page from E.E. Cowper's Girls on the Gold Trail.GIRLS ON THE
GOLD TRAILCHAPTER ITHE MYSTERY OF THE INDIAN WATCHERTHE time of year was early spring when an adventure began which was
destined to take the three young Lockharts through danger and
difficulty rarely experienced except by men, and sometimes by women,
in the "wilds."When this story opens the three who did the work were: Margaret,
commonly called Pegtop, or simply Peg; Elspeth, who had flatly refused
to be shortened into "Pet," and so answered to the name of "Peter";
and Jim. Their ages were, roughly--beginning at the eldest--eighteen,
seventeen, and sixteen, Jim being youngest of these three, but not of
the family, because the ten-year-old twins, Donald and Effie, or
"Dolly"--so called because of her smallness--were also useful mem-bers of the busy household, though
they could not count on the trail, as shall be shown.Before the twins were born, Tom Lockhart, their father, his
wonderful wife, the three eldest children, and Raa, the wolf-dog, had
come over the great divide by the Yellow Head Pass from Vancouver to
Saskatchewan. They had settled where Battle River comes down from the
foothills, and built a big log-house on the slope among the woods.Tom Lockhart was a thoroughly sound man. He was "white" all
through; but also he had rather a "Hans-in-luck" temperament--that is
to say, he was inclined to try something new that would be sure to
make his fortune, instead of sticking to the job on hand. He was an
engineer by training; but hearing rumours of fortunes made by
trapping, he threw up that and took the trail to Battle River as
beforesaid. He did make a good deal of money with the help of old Dick
Hearne, a lonely squatter who had joined up with the Lockharts,
because of the children chiefly. He built and improved his log-house,
cleared the slope down to the river into something like a garden,
banked up a watercourse close to the house to make a good supply--in
fact, he made the place a home; and the whole family had become
hard-bitten "old-timers"--"sour-doughs"--from the mother to little Doll. They could do anything,
face anything, undertake any job. Making their own clothes of dressed
leather was as easy to them as baking the real old-timer's
bread. Traps were A B C to them all, from the dead-fall set to kill
the bears down to rabbit wires, and every snare between.Life, then, was going well with the Lockharts, till the father of
the family became bitten by the mining craze. He was sure he could
make money much faster if he joined up with a party bound for the
Klondike and Yukon goldfields. Nothing would stop him--not the
persuasions of his wife or the arguments of the girls. So he had gone
two years before, saying he should come back in the autumn; but he had
not come up till this present spring.At first the family carried on without misgivings, except the
ever-present belief that he would fail and come back with nothing but
the clothes he stood in! The three elder children, with old Hearne's
help, piled up a fine collection of pelts--as the skins were
called--and winter and summer the life at the Log House went on,
varied at times by the arrival of a letter from Tom Lockhart. These
letters were brought up from Cumberland House Settlement by some
trapper or hunter, but they were few and far between and promised
nothing definite; till at
last, six months before this story begins, came a letter that startled
the whole family into thrills of joyful excitement.He had won through. He had struck a "pay streak" in the summer, and
was coming back with the "dust" as fast as he could travel. It
appeared that his wanderings had taken him up within the Arctic
Circle, and his plan was to take the ice-trail, as soon as it would
bear, all the way: by the Mackenzie River to Great Slave Lake, by the
Slave River across the three big lakes, Athabasca, Wollaston, and Deer
Lake, into the Missinnippi River, and so join up with Battle River and
the homeland, where he hoped to be before Christmas--hundreds and
hundreds of miles on the ice-trail, perhaps the quickest method of
travel in the far north.After that more than hopeful news came nothing further. Nothing--no
traveller, no more letters! Christmas came and passed, but the weeks
brought only rumours, the rumours that drift from mouth to mouth in
the wild lands, vague and with no apparent foundation in fact. Not
good in this case, for the mysterious messages suggested that Tom
Lockhart was dead; more, that he had died as far north as Great Slave
Lake at the end of November.At first the family at the Log House refused to credit these tales, which they heard from old
Dick Hearne, who in turn heard them from trappers and settlement
men. He believed them, and his belief acted on the Lockharts. By the
end of March they all believed the truth of the rumours, but still
waited for confirmation; waited and talked among themselves
constantly, the three elder children considering what they ought to do
about it. If poor Dad had really made his pile, what course should
they pursue? The "dust" belonged to their mother.This, then, was the exact position on that evening in April when
the excitement really began. Everywhere was the soft sound of
thaw--the waking of life and movement from the
winter sleep. Every tree and bush dripped. The white carpet that
reached from the river away up into the forest and foothills was
changing and pitting. The little streams had started to trickle, then
to run, and the running was gradually forcing the ice of the river. It
had altered in colour and surface. Day and night the reports of
cracking broke the stillness, and yellow water was beginning to ooze
out on to the top and spread. All along the shores stretched a border
of rotten ice; in a little while the armour of the river would heave
and burst, piling up in huge blocks, and drift away on the free water with crashings and splitting
noises you could hear for miles. When this going out of the ice
happened on the Yukon and Mackenzie Rivers, the great waterways, it
was an amazing scene; but even on this comparatively narrow river it
was impressive. The depth of the ice made it so.Every one had been busy up at the Log House till the dusk began to
fall; there was always a lot to do to keep the household machinery
running smooth. The big stove wanted so much wood to feed it; there
was bread to make and cooking to do; also the everlasting curing of
pelts, especially as trapping was really over now. The skins--the fur,
rather--grew poor as the winter ended. When you make your own clothes
and moccasins, your own candles and wicks, everything except your
ammunition, you are bound to be busy!An observer with nothing much to do but watch the Lockhart family
at work on this particular evening, might have noticed that Elspeth,
alias "Peter," was trying to have speech with
her brother Jim without drawing attention. She was a tall, slim girl,
with a brown face of the hawk type, not exactly pretty--that was not
the word--but very attractive because of its look of keen cleverness,
the flash of white teeth, and hazel eyes set deep under straight black eyebrows. She was seventeen,
and tough as the life she had led could make a perfectly healthy
girl. From her thick, black-brown curls to her active feet Peter
seemed made of leather and steel.Jim was rubbing a skin--one of the last trappings--with a bone
scraper, making it soft as cashmere, when she came close to him,
apparently to look at the mink pelt he was curing."Come out," she whispered, "I want you.""Why?" The boy glanced up, then went on with his work. He was
devoted to Peter, admired her sincerely too, but with one
reservation--he did not take all she said on a first impulse, because
he believed she had a tendency to see wonders and discover "mare's
nests." Pegtop he trusted implicitly. She was like their mother, sober
in view, accurate in statement, without imagination, not given to
tilting at windmills either! Therefore, when he looked into Peter's
eyes and saw there a sort of flashing eagerness, while a pink spot
glowed on each thin brown cheek, he was rather inclined to withdraw
into his own affairs and leave her to exercise thrills on Donald, who
adored Peter, and believed in her as a dog believes in its master."Why?" asked Jim cautiously."Well, I can't explain here. It's very weird--in fact, it's just
about as rum as it can be.""Won't it do to-morrow--some other time, Pete? I'm awfully
busy.""Oh no, you're not," contradicted his sister in the same urgent
whisper. "It won't wait. You'll jolly well understand when you
hear. Something might happen, and then you'd be sick that you hadn't
listened to me. Come on."Jim got up and laid aside the mink pelt."What's up?" asked Peggy, who was busy over the stove
cooking. "Don't go far, Pete; supper will soon be ready.""I only want Jim to come down to the shore for ten minutes," said
the other girl. And they went, Jim without enthusiasm.Donald, busy with fishing lines and hooks, looked after them as
they passed out--looked with a shrewd understanding in his hazel eyes;
then he did a significant thing. He made a noiseless plunge after Raa,
the wolf-dog, who had risen from his place by the stove, threw his
arms round the dog's neck and dragged him back and down on to the
bearskin bed where he had been lying. Peter glanced back with an
understanding look. Donald simply rolled over with the dog, and
engaged in a scuffle that
kept Raa from his intention of following the others.Outside in the gathering dusk Peter led the way, striding with
long, light steps down the slope, but diagonally, so as to keep in
cover more and more as they approached the river bank.Jim caught her up and began to ask a question."Hush!" ordered Peter. "I'll tell you directly, but keep out of
sight now all you can.""Out of sight from where?" asked the boy
with reason."From the river--opposite the house."She left him to think over this direction with all its apparent
foolishness, and led on at a swift pace, always keeping behind tree
boles and brushwood till they came to that part of the bank where the
canoe was cached for the winter. It was upside down on a little raised
platform of boughs, sheltered by a thatch of tamarisk and pine. All
around the brushwood was fairly dense, but the view was clear across
the ice to the opposite banks of the river, where the woods came down
to the shore unbroken."Look here, Pete," began Jim, patient but decidedly bored, "I don't
see why on earth you--""All right; you will in a minute. Keep down out of sight entirely,
with your eye skinned for the farthest bank, and I'll tell you. It's
an Indian." Jim made an impatient grunt. "I know, you think an Indian
is pretty common, which is true, but this one's behaviour is not
particularly common. He's been over there about three days--at least I
saw him by chance three days ago. He may have been watching
longer.""Watching!""He's watching the house. The first time I saw him the moon sort of
nipped up suddenly over the wood and showed him up. He cached himself
jolly soon, but I saw him, and I saw his face. I think he's a
Cree.""Why?" Against his will Jim was growing interested. Peter saw it
and went on encouraged."He's ugly like the Crees; sort of flatter in the face, and eyes
close together. Honestly, Jim, he's not a nice-looking specimen, and I
can't think what he's up to. I've kept a pretty keen look-out in the
evenings just here as the cover is thick. Now, if we wait till the
moon comes up the odds are that we both see him again."The girl spoke with studied coolness, but it was plain she was
keenly interested in this
wandering forest dweller; and Jim, thinking it over, began to get
interested too. Indian trappers were as common as the white men, and
"breeds," as the half-and-half class was called, came to the Log House
once in a way; but, travelling down to the settlement with their
skins, they did not hang about and watch. That looked suspicious.After a minute's silence Peter said, "I thought of hundreds of
reasons while I waited here, expecting him to be gone every night, you
see, but he wasn't. I wondered if it had anything to do with Dad.""How could it have? The Crees, if he is a Cree, mostly keep to the
woods farther south round the big lakes. They don't go up north to the
Mackenzie.""I know. I know there is no sense in the idea, but the funniest
things happen most often--I mean the things you don't expect. He can't
have a grudge against us. We've never had any
bothers with Indians. We--" She broke off her whisper and laid a grip
on her brother's sleeve. "Now then," she urged,
very softly."I see," Jim allowed. "I say, Pete, he's coming over; before the
moon rises, you bet! And if he isn't coming here! Down you go--quiet."There was small need to give such an order to Pete Lockhart. The
brushwood swallowed her lithe figure with hardly a crack or rustle to
testify she had disappeared. But hidden though they were, both sister
and brother were watching the shadowy shape crossing the cracked and
oozing ice. He travelled on snowshoes, light and silent, and went a
zigzag course, choosing the safest path, no doubt.Presently he was close under the bank in the black shade of the
canoe cache. The two in hiding knew he was taking off his snow-shoes
to climb, but he did it in silence, every movement was veiled in
caution--a mink could not have been more quiet. Then he passed up the
steep, bush-covered shore, and just at that moment the slip of moon,
silvery and young, drifted into the clear evening sky above the woods,
and showed the branches and boles of the forest trees painted in
Indian ink on the snow. The man went like a wolf. When he was clear of
the broken bank he put on his snowshoes again and disappeared, going
up and up, it seemed, towards the woods, not to the house.Just at that moment the noisy barking of a dog broke the stately
silence of the scene. It was Jenny, the collie dog. Being a collie,
she barked a good deal, either for joy or warning. This time it seemed like warning. Raa
never barked; he had too much of the wolf in him. He howled sometimes,
and a very horrible sound it was when he did!Peter appeared from somewhere, and she and Jim forgathered in the
shadow of the cache."Jenny heard him," suggested Jim."I don't believe she could. You and I are pretty quiet, but those
men move like snakes. Look here, Jim, what do you think he's up
to?""Oh, nothing, most likely. Probably he's a stranger and not seen
this log-house before. He would be just looking. Those beggars are as
inquisitive as bears. He had very little kit with him--only his gun
and blanket, as far as I could see. Come on, Pete; they'll wonder
where we are!" So said Jim, feeling the wave of excitement sink into
calm. Besides, he was hungry.But Peter was in no mood to pass over the affair as an episode
ended. She stood still, thinking; then she said, "Did you see him
clearly, Jim?""Oh yes. He was a Cree all right--not a good specimen, either.""I know; but what I meant was, did you see one particular thing?
Probably not, as you were on the other side.""How do you mean 'other side?' He stood still when he slipped his
shoes off. I saw him pretty clear afterwards, when he was putting them
on." Suddenly the boy laughed with a low chuckle of amusement. "Just
fancy foxing a Cree! It's not bad. I don't believe a lynx could have
heard us. Do you, Pete?""Well, we might be jolly well ashamed if we couldn't move without
breaking twigs after all these years," said Peter with scorn. "But I
wasn't thinking about that. I wanted to know if you saw something
remarkable about that man? I saw it, and it was rather startling."Jim asked "What?" but he was still a little inclined to discount
Peter's discoveries."One of his ears was cut off."The boy made an exclamation under his breath. "I say! But are you sure?""Rather. It was the ear next to me that wasn't there."Jim suddenly gurgled with laughter. Peter was serious and much in
earnest. She went on, "If it wasn't cut it had been shot off. He had a
scar all along his cheek, and his hair was shaved off, or singed off,
on that side of his head. He must have had a jolly narrow squeak for
his life. I wonder what happened.""Oh, some fight, or perhaps he blew himself up with his own gun; those chaps get hold of pretty
rotten fire-arms--sudden death when you least expect it! Probably that
was what happened.""I wonder!" said Peter again. She was quite unconvinced by Jim's
idea of the blowing up. "There was something about that man--""My good Pete," cut in her brother, "suppose we get on home to
supper. It is no use making out that there was any earthly thing about
that Cree different from other Crees. You say he had no ear. That
can't be an uncommon thing among that crowd. He was rather a
low-down-looking specimen, anyway.""What I was going to say," went on Peter undisturbed, but walking
up the slope with her long, light stride--"what I was going to say
when you stopped me was this. I wonder if the loss of his ear has
anything to do with his being here--""Why should it? We didn't hurt him, poor devil," said Jim. "I say,
Pete, just hark to Jenny; she's giving tongue. She sure scents that
Cree, if she can't hear him."But in the moment that Peter opened her lips to say she didn't
believe Jenny could have scented the Cree--he would take care of
that--the interpretation of
the collie's noisy protests echoed from the heights in a perfect riot
of barking, the frenzied yelping made by a team of husky dogs when
they greet, or rather insult, the dogs of any dwelling they are coming
to."Hullo!" ejaculated Jim."There!" said Peter. "Now, who on
earth--"They stood still and gazed up through the trees to where the long,
dark frontage of the Log House showed on a natural terrace backed by
higher ground and the forest. The door was open, and in the glow from
lights within the big living-room black shapes flitted, while others
showed up on the snow outside. Rough voices of men cursing the dogs
spoiled the lovely quiet of the evening."I know," jerked out Peter, smacking her mitt-covered hands
together. "Jim, I know, it's that chipmunk,
Louis La Perle, you know, squirrel-faced creature, and his
pard--what's his name?--the pig! I hate him worse than Louis--""You mean Fritz Neumann? What's the matter with him? He's not so
decent as Sorenson and some of the others, but--""Dad hated him. Dick loathes him, though he never says so. As for
me, I hate and loathe him! I
suppose they want supper and sleep. What rotten luck! Let's--" She
checked the expression of what she proposed as a black shape slid in
front of them with noiseless swiftness.CHAPTER
IINIGHT AT THE LOG HOUSETHERE was a gurgle of quiet laughter as Donald thrust an arm
through Peter's."Did I make you jump?" he demanded hopefully."Jump!" echoed his sister with serene contempt.Jim said nothing; the idea was too absurd to be considered.Donald changed the subject. "I say, Pete, the whole place is snowed
under by those brutes Neumann and La Perle. They've got a load of
pelts, sacks of them, and they're going on to the settlement, and
they're in the worst rage you can imagine with each other and
everybody in the world. Why, Neumann simply shouted at mother, and
Louis chattered--you know how he chatters!""I'll teach them to shout at mother," said Jim with
decision."You'd better chain up your temper as well as Raa," advised Donald
in his odd, old-fashioned. voice. "Pegtop is as red as a mountain ash
in September already, and as for Raa--well!""He'll take it out in biting Neumann's huskies," said Peter with
satisfaction.Donald gave a little crow under his breath. "They don't want much
biting; they are jolly well done up, what with the work and the men's
whips. Do you know they've lost three on the way down?""How do you mean lost?" asked Peter."Oh, just that. They started down with a strong team of eight--they
say so, anyway--and now they've got five, used up, too.""I suppose that's why the men are savage," suggested Jim. "It's
easily understood--five is a small team if the sled's loaded up.""I'm glad they're uncomfortable," declared Peter viciously. Of
which unchristian remark the elder brother took no notice, while
Donald gave a sort of elfish whoop and raced on ahead.In the big house-place was much light, heat, and noise. The stove
was nearly red-hot, all available lamps were in use, and the long
table was set for the guests, while Mrs. Lockhart and Peg served up a
greatly enlarged supper. No
one minded that sort of thing in the back of beyond. A guest was
honoured as a rule, but in this case the guests were unpopular. Jenny
had been kicked into a corner by Neumann, and sat still, showing her
teeth. Raa was tied up in the girls' bedroom, which, with the room
occupied by their mother and little Doll, took up one end of the long
house. At the other end were two more rooms--the boys' bedroom and the
bunk-room for a chance guest. The whole centre was taken up by the big
living-room. It was a very attractive place. The log building was
airtight, with moss and clay stuffed in the cracks, and stained brown
inside, while the heads and horns of forest beasts ornamented the
walls. Skins covered the floor, and there were even a few precious
books on shelves. The table, benches, and stools had been made by
Lockhart and old Hearne in the days before the mining fever spoiled
the master's interest in the Log House.Altogether it was a grand home and a glorious life; you had only to
look at the young Lockharts to realize that. There they were, all five
in their leather tunics, leggings, and moccasins, boys and girls
alike. Even the twins were tall and strong for their years; indeed,
the only smallish member of the family was Mrs. Lockhart. Not tall, but with an air of
dignity and assurance that made her look the inches she did not
possess. Fair, like Peg and Dolly, with the same curiously steady
grey-blue eyes and very definite features, there was nothing confused
about Mrs. Lockhart's face; on the contrary, it was full of power and
decision. All the five were immensely proud of her, and would have
followed her on any forlorn hope. She was just the kind of mother that
could very safely be followed anywhere.In this case she did her best for those guests, though she could
not like them; so the five followed suit and were polite against the
grain, although in Jim's case the welcome was more or less genuine,
because the company of any men was a pleasant change.The French Canadian "breed" was standing in the doorway, feeding
thawed deer meat to the ravenous dogs. Mrs. Lockhart supplied this
meat, as it seemed the travellers had run out of frozen fish, which is
the dogs' usual food. There was a tremendous lot of noise, because the
huskies fought among themselves, and the men kicked them apart. La
Perle hardly stopped talking for a moment; he was one of those people
who seem to see everything at once, and only take half a second to see it! His white teeth shone in
a face burned the colour of old leather."A-ha, Mees Pete," he cried, "your so kind mother desire that we
rest here. This is mos' fine for the poor trapper, very well for us;
we have the vile luck, we delay so many days that the bottom fall out
of the trail! There we are--no river, no'sing to help the travel, and
snow soft as a bog.""What?" Jim said, "land travel, and only five dogs to the team?" He
would have thought the ice was safe enough up till the last few
days. Then he asked the route they'd taken; but La Perle plunged in
among the dogs again with excited expostulations."Here you, Kloosh, always you are t'eef and steal the meat. Gif it
to him, you, Bob, pay heem," and then from the midst of the scuffling
riot he was heard repeating that "the river trail it is no more safe,
the bottom has fall out of it; the ice is mos' rotten."Meanwhile Kloosh and Bob leaped upon one another, and the others
joined battle again out of sympathy; it was the usual procedure with
team dogs, of course, noise and fighting.Meanwhile Neumann was sitting near the stove watching the serving
of supper: fried deer meat, bacon and beans, big flat cakes of
home-made bread, pumpkin pie--for they grew pumpkins in the garden, and took them in before the first
frost could nip them--potatoes, and coffee sweetened with sugar
instead of molasses. These luxuries were not everyday treats; they
were offered to guests who perhaps had fared hard for weeks.Neumann gazed at them with pale, prominent eyes. He was a shortish,
square-set man, with a scorched-looking face and scrubby hair of sandy
tint. He had a bad mouth, and looked older than his years.The talk at supper was of the usual kind. Jim asked questions and
La Perle answered volubly, if not always to the point. Neumann ate a
great deal, and seemed to keep check on his "pardner," but said really
nothing much of interest. When Louis, warmed by good food and much
coffee, began to boast of certain pelts they carried--silver and black
fox worth four thousand dollars a skin, he said--Neumann snubbed him
with an oath and a look of furious temper. It seemed very unnecessary,
to say the least, as all trappers are proud of very valuable skins,
and these are the most beautiful. Nor did he refer, or allow reference
to, the loss of his three huskies. The mention of this
misfortune--inquired about by Peggy, for politeness' sake--appeared to
irritate him still more. One more thing was odd,when you came to think of it, as Peter pointed out
afterwards: beyond asking if Tom Lockhart was back home again, he
never referred to the master of the Log House, or to the rumours of
his illness and death. And yet he must have heard, and was likely to
have known more than most men, as his grounds lay around the Great
Slave country; besides, it would have been so natural to ask.At the same time the whole Lockhart family was glad he did not. It
would have seemed desecration to discuss "Dad" with this stodgy,
ill-conditioned person.So the meal came to its close, and then the men smoked while the
work of clearing away went on. It was then that a funny little
incident occurred which might have had significance--Donald and Peter
vowed it had, as shall be told.After supper the boy strolled off to the end of the big room to
sympathize with Jenny, the collie dog, who remained in her corner
doing a "hate" of the most concentrated vigour, but afraid perhaps to
risk more kicks. Having conferred with her for some minutes in an
undertone, his eyes were attracted to the trappers' guns set up
against the wall in the corner by the door into the
bunk-room. Instantly he went over to investigate, and had been
engaged in this most congenial
occupation for several minutes before Neumann saw him. The man sprang
up, strode across to the corner, and, snatching the rifle from him,
flung the boy aside with a roughness that made him lose his
balance."Seems you're a young meddlesome," he growled. "What are you prying
into? What are you up to, hey?"Donald, like Peter, turned white instead of red when he was
angry. White he was as he stood on his feet and looked at the man
quite undismayed."Anybody can look at a gun without wanting to pry, can't they? Guns
are interesting."The tension of surprise and indignation in the room made a silence
that penetrated the thickness of Neumann's egotism. He saw something,
for once, and perhaps wished for his own sake that he hadn't been so
hasty."Never know what youngsters will do harming theirselves with guns,
ma'am," he said self-consciously to Mrs. Lockhart. "Best left alone
till you know how to use them.""We all know how to use them," Peter flamed at him.No one else spoke, but the two men went outside ostensibly to see
to the sled for an early start. When they returned all the younger members of the family had
disappeared. Mrs. Lockhart announced that breakfast would be ready
before dawn, which is the usual time for striking camp on the trail;
then she also departed, having done her duty to the utmost.The first thing Peter did was to administer comfort to Raa, the
wolf-dog, who had spent the evening in the girls' bedroom. It might be
as well to explain here the meaning of "Raa," and his characteristics
in general. There was quite a quarter strain of wolf in him, and the
rest was dog of the Newfoundland breed more than any other. He was
brindled grey and yellow, with a bushy tail that drooped wolf
fashion. Tom Lockhart had bought him in his very young days from a
trapper who had come down through the lakes from the Mackenzie, and
had used him as a team dog. He had been very roughly treated--"broken
in," as they called it--with a club, which means terribly savage
beatings; but once he learned that his new master was a friend, and
used no club, his affection for him and the children developed into a
wonder of rooted devotion, unswerving, dominant. It was Tom Lockhart
who called him "Raa," giving him a new and happier life, though the
name actually was drawn from the old life. In this wise.On the Yukon trails sled dogs are harnessed in single file with
traces--like tandems--and the drivers urge them on with a shout of
"Mush," or "M'hoosh." But on the other side of the Big Divide, in the
Mackenzie River country, the long-legged hounds and malemutes are
harnessed by single ropes--the longest in the centre, the short ropes
at the side next the sled, which is shaped like a toboggan built
without the runners, put on Yukon sleds, and curling up in front to
breast the snow.When a Mackenzie driver comes to a narrow bit on the trail, he
calls to his dogs, "Raa--raa-a," and the team closes in just like the
sticks of a fan when it shuts, all the animals pulling close
together. Lockhart said it was a capital name to shout, and as
uncommon as Raa himself. So the big wolf-dog remained Raa, and grew to
middle age almost--as dogs' years count--in the peace and love of the
Log House.But he had not forgotten the hardness of his first life, and for
that reason was tied up in the girls' room when Neumann and La Perle
came, because he did not like them; and when Raa disliked people it
was more than probable that inconvenient things might happen.Peter kneeled down by the dog and threw her arms round his shaggy neck. Then she explained to
him that he hadn't missed any treat, because the men who had come were
"pigs." After that she offered an excellent supper of thawed deer
meat, with a mess of bran and tallow as an extra. Raa ate it all,
licked her hand for thanks, and stood listening, while his green eyes
looked from Peter to Peggy and back to Peter. There was a light behind
the green like a wolf's eye; moreover, Raa had a blood-red spot within
the inner corner of both eyes; only dogs with the real strain of the
Wild in them have that.The two sisters did not talk much, because the partition of logs
between their room and their mother's was hardly sound-proof. For that
reason also Peter did not tell Peg about the watching Indian; it
seemed better to leave the curious episode till they could discuss it
freely in the open. After all, Peter thought, as she rolled herself up
in her blankets, they hadn't got to the end of it, probably; she, for
one, firmly believing that the Log House was his object, though
whether for good or ill remained to be seen.Peggy, who had nothing particular on her mind, went to sleep at
once. She had got to be up before dawn to speed these guests on their
way to the settlement, and, therefore, she had no time to waste either in disliking them or playing
with Raa. All that was quite like Pegtop's sound practical sense.As she said to Peter the last thing, "What did it matter whether
one detested them or not? They'd soon be gone."Peter dozed off, and then woke up with the alertness born of an
instinct for danger. Raa was standing in the middle of the floor, all
four strong legs planted firmly, and his great head up--he was
listening.Suddenly from the other end of the house came Jenny's collie-bark,
instantly checked, probably by a cuff from Jim or Donald. She slept in
their room.Through Peter's mind the thought passed, "It's the huskies outside;
she hates them." But, allowing, that did not account for Raa's
attitude, unless he, too, felt the presence of Neumann's team
still.The girl watched his movements. With raised head he was sniffing
the air, while his lip was drawn back over his white fangs in a stiff
and most unpleasant snarl. He did not move. Peter slipped out of her
bunk and went to the window, which was a sort of loop-hole slit cut in
the logs and filled in with thick glass. It did not open; there was
quite enough breeze about in winter without window fastenings. Close against the glass, she looked
out on to the white world of thawing snow. The moon had sunk beyond
the woods. Had it not been for the pale light from the snow it would
have been a dark night, for the stars were not big and clear as they
are in frost.But Peter looked in vain for anything unusual. The forest came down
fairly close to the back of the house, giving shelter from the winter
storms; shadows of pine, spruce, and cedar covered the white ground
with black patterns, and she saw the creatures of the wood skip across
from one shelter to another; rabbits watchful of foxes; once a
fisher-cat, lithe and swift--the girl made a mental note of that as a
good pelt, though the season was practically passed for the best
fur.While she was watching the fisher-cat she was startled into
surprise and keen attention. Crossing the shadows, stealthy and clever
as the hunting fisher, was the figure of a man going on snowshoes. He
was making in the direction of the forest above the house, and from
his course would seem to have come round from the front, unless he had
climbed the slope right from the river shores. Peter could not see him
well enough to be sure of details, in spite of her splendid sight and
trained instinct, but she believed he was an Indian wrapped in his blanket, and something in his
movement carried her mind back to the Cree without an ear who had
crossed the river."So that was why you snarled, old boy," she whispered to
Raa. "Well, he's gone, and why on earth he's wandering round this
house--"Pegtop sat up in her bunk and asked in a matter-of-fact voice:
"What are you talking about? Why don't you go to sleep?""Because my natural instincts woke me up; and while I was wondering
what old Raa was warning about, I happened to see a man going up
towards the forest.""Old Dick?" questioned Peggy. They spoke in whispers."Dick! Oh no, an Indian. Jim and I saw him on the shore this
afternoon--evening rather.""What sort of Indian?""A Cree, I'm pretty sure, and he--""There are lots of wood Crees about, especially now," suggested
Peggy; "every trapper who can collects at the settlement; the Company
people make it lively for them."Peter waved aside these remarks as entirely beside the point. She
curled herself up cross-legged on her bunk, and, bending forward,
impressively told her sister of the watch kept by that particular Indian from the opposite bank of
the river; of the concealment of herself and Jim by the canoe cache,
and the passing of the man so close that she made special note of his
maimed ear.Peggy did not scoff. She took in every word, and considered the
matter in silence. After a minute she said, "What you say about his
wounded ear is the most important part, Pete, because we all know how
persistent the Indians are. We needn't discuss it; we know that they
never forget an injury, and the decent ones never forget a
kindness. Seems to me the whole thing points to revenge. He's hunting
some one who shot him.""Narrow squeak," murmured Peter thoughtfully. "Why, Peg, the bullet
must have torn his ear off and shaved his hair right--""Oh no, it doesn't follow," came from Peggy in her steady, literal
way of speaking. "He may have had his ear destroyed in a dozen ways,
and then cut the hair off to help the place to mend. Some one wounded
him, poor wretch, of course, by a shot, a cut, or a blow and I
wouldn't mind betting he's after the person who did it. He'll never
rest till he pays out the man; but that makes it so odd his coming
here--here, of all places! What have we
done?"Peggy asked this question in rather an offended voice--under her
breath, though; she never lost her caution.Peter thumped softly on her blanket with a brown, clenched
hand. "My good old Peg-top," she insisted hotly, "it's not for us he's here; can't be. Now do you think it can be these trappers?""Good old Pegtop" shook her yellow curls with a vigorous
denial."Would any trapper be so senseless as to wound an Indian like
that?--unless he was asking for trouble; and Neumann is used to the
country.""All the same he's a bad-tempered--Oh, Peggy, listen!--how horrible!"Both girls literally held their breath, and their startled eyes
stared from door to window. Outside the quiet night was pierced by a
howl that rose to a quivering shriek--another followed, and
another. Then Raa, lifting his grey nose, answered with a horrible
howl that began in his throat deep down.Voices and loud talking followed quickly, and as the girls hurried
into their clothes they knew that the Log House was all
astir.CHAPTER
III"NOT ON YOUR LIFE, SIR"FOR many minutes the dreadful rending shrieks continued. When they
died down into moans and silence the whole party was gathered round
the front door, outside and in. Outside, Jim, old Hearne, and the
trappers were bending over the bodies of two dead husky dogs, and a
third still struggling weakly. Two, apparently unhurt, yet cowered in
terror, and howled for sympathy.Neumann was beside himself. He and La Perle wrangled noisily, while
old Hearne gave a hot gruel of tallow and bran to the sick dog, who
seemed likely to recover. When Mrs. Lockhart, looking as always quiet
and capable, showed her little figure in the doorway, Neumann was
drawing Jim into the altercation by fairly broad hints that the deer
meat given to his dogs the evening before must have been
poisoned."Considering we ate it ourselves!" retorted the boy,
flushing. "Look here, sir, you can't be more put out than we are, but
it won't ease matters any to go flinging out such talk as that.""Mr. Neumann is naturally put out," said Mrs. Lockhart in her even
tones. "Perhaps the poor creatures picked up something unwholesome on
the trail. Or the thaw may have waked up a snake; you never
know. Seemingly that poor beast is coming to. Bring him in to the
warm, Dick. Dear, dear, what a pity!"From that time there was work and much stir till dawn, when the
faint, grey light showed up the weird scene more and more
clearly--Peter and Donald feeding the two sound huskies, because they
were so sorry for them; old Hearne dragging away the dead bodies to
bury them; the sick dog, recovered but rather weak on its legs, curled
up by the stove; Mrs. Lockhart and Peggy setting a solid breakfast;
and the two trappers talking together in rapid undertone. Then Neumann
spoke."Look here, Mis' Lockhart, we've an offer to make that will be all
to your good, and worth while to us, seeing that we want to get down
to the settlement with this cargo. Now what do you say to taking three
hundred dollars for your husky, old Raa? He's past his prime, but we'll admit he's a good dog,
and would make a power of difference in the team. Hundred and fifty is
about what you give for a sled dog in good condition, so I can't say
better than double it, can I? Come, is that a deal?"At the sound of his loud voice Peter and Donald drew within the
door, and Pegtop ceased her labours, opening grey-blue eyes in
startled indignation. There was a breathless pause in the air. Neumann
was too thick-skinned to feel it, but La Perle looked round upon the
Lockhart family and shrugged expressive shoulders."It is mos' bad luck for us," he said plaintively. "Come, then, you
will sell your dog Raa, is it not? He is one ver' beeg fine husky, but
he is old. He will die soon. You bury heem, and what of it?
No'sing. If you sell we gif three hundred, four hundred dollars. Eh,
Neumann? It is great matter to us, and four hundred dollars to Mis'
Lockhart.""Cheek!" ejaculated Peter, drawing a hissing breath.Jim answered for the family. "Not on your life, sir. We're sorry
for your misfortune, and we'd do what we could. But we shouldn't sell
old Raa, not if we hadn't a cent in the world. Should we,
mother?""Of course not," added Peggy with decision.But chaffering and bargain-driving was so usual a fashion among
these men that Neumann was by no means put off."Seems we haven't heard Mis' Lockhart yet," he said unpleasantly,
"and she has the say-so, eh? Raa's her dog, and she's not so flush of
money--considering all things--that she can turn down four hundred
dollars, I suppose. It's a tip-top price. It's unreasonable for an old
dog, but I don't pretend I'm not pressed, and that's a fact.""We have mos' bad luck," reiterated Louis in
a friendly manner. He realized that his partner's hectoring tone was
likely to quench sympathy. "Set out to make the queek run, one dog
go--he disappear; wolves have 'ticed him from the camp. That was at
the start in the cold. They 'tice the dog and eat heem, is it not?
Then one die and one more die--so there; we come with five only--now
three! It is the mos' bad luck!"The girls looked at each other meaningly, and Jim said, "So you've
been losing dogs same way before, then?"Neumann answered nothing to this, but just repeated obstinately,
"Anyway we've had no luck on this run, and I'm waiting to hear
Mis' Lockhart's answer to my
offer; it's firm at four hundred dollars.""What's four hundred dollars?" said Peter, loud enough to be heard,
her accent scornful.Mrs. Lockhart turned from the table on which she had set a great
dish of bacon. "A good deal, my dear." The tone was dry. "All the
same, much or little is nothing to the point either way. Raa is Dad's
dog, and he's an old friend. I wouldn't sell him for eight hundred,
no, nor eighteen hundred, for that matter. Money's not
everything. There now, breakfast's all ready. You'll please to sit
down, Mr. Neumann."Mr. Neumann sat down accordingly, in the worst of tempers to judge
by his looks and undertone mutters. La Perle glanced at him in a
deprecating fashion; for, though something of a chipmunk and a good
deal of a weasel too, perhaps, he yet was good-natured in his own way,
and preferred to be friendly.The meal was almost a silent one, and soon after dawn the party
pulled out; one man breaking trail ahead, the three weakened dogs
pulling the heavy sled, and the other man at the gee-pole--that is to
say, driving. Had the dogs been at their best the team would hardly
have been equal to the load."Good riddance of bad rubbish," remarked Donald in rather a sententious manner as the whip
cracking and yelping grew fainter with distance.Peggy rebuked his manners. She was always a stickler for
hospitality. Also, she was inclined to contend that there must be two
sides to a question, and the other people would, therefore, have a
point of view. This idea was always rejected hotly by Peter and
Donald, who felt sure that objectionable folk were thoroughly bad all
round, and unworthy of a hearing.For once in a way, though, Peter was rather silent. The thought of
the secretive Indian was constantly before her mind, the more because
she felt certain this wandering Cree had poisoned Neumann's dogs. Jim
had not followed up that idea, because he had not seen the man in the
night, perhaps. The fact is that every member of the family was in a
more or less confused state of mind about one happening or
another.Later on Peter went out to investigate the trail of the Indian,
hoping for a clue; but he had been much too clever for that. The snow
was thawing everywhere; its surface changed character each hour, while
the drip, drip, trickle, trickle, continued ceaselessly from every
bush, every clump of brushwood, besides the patter from the trees overhead. She had wanted to make
some discovery leading to better knowledge, but the conditions were
baffling. Raising herself from a stooping position over a snapped
twig, Peter found Donald standing by, watching. The two looked at each
other."I came after you because I wanted to tell you something," began
the boy. "But what are you looking for, Pete?""Gold watch I happened to drop a few days ago," retorted his sister
with chill calm.Donald flushed. "Oh, well, don't tell if you'd rather not. I wasn't
spying--honestly. Something awfully queer is on my mind, and I thought
I'd tell you first. No one else knows.""All right; go ahead," requested Peter. "It never rains but it
pours; seems to me, there's a regular crush of things happening--only
nothing leads anywhere, so far as I can discover." She was thinking of
the Indian."What I'm going to tell you mightn't exactly lead anywhere. I don't
know, though--" Donald checked speech, and stood staring at the ground
with unseeing eyes. Peter was just about to rouse him by a brisk
reminder that he'd meant to say something, when the boy said, "I say,
Pete, Dad never did have a little Winchester rifle, one of the new
kind, did he?""Not that I know of." Peter's voice became subdued. "He wanted one
and couldn't afford it. He had the old muzzle-loader and the other
rifles, and, of course, the automatics--well, we all have those. But
why do you ask? What's it got to do with anything now?"The girl looked at him with a puzzled frown; then her eyes wandered
towards the house, and she urged him to hurry. "If you've got
something to say, say it. Here's Jim coming.""Jim would say I was an ass," answered the younger boy, without
bitterness, though. He worshipped Jim, making allowances for the fact
that he never seemed to see what was plain to some visions--his own
and Peter's, for instance. He went on, "You remember what a rage
Neumann got into last night when I went and touched his guns after
supper?" His sister nodded, and he hurried on, with a glance at Jim's
approaching figure. "Well, I just picked them up to look at them,
because I wanted to see what they were like, as one does, and then I
saw initials cut deep on the stock of one, and it was a Winchester,
the kind Dad said he wanted. And the initials were 'T. L.' cut deep,
just like he used to cut them on his things, and rubbed in with
gunpowder. I was just staring at it when that chap came and dragged it out of my hand. The
thing is, why was he in such a temper?""Oh, well, he was in a temper all along," said Peter
contemptuously. "He's got a brute of a temper--that's one reason why I
hate him. He'd have snatched anything out of your hand--anything that
was his, I mean. All the same it was queer." She paused, thinking over
the matter, then added, "Of course, he may have bought the little
rifle from Dad, some time, or perhaps another man bought it and passed
it on."But Donald had thought out these explanations. He had been thinking
ever since, and sifting out probabilities."If that was so he would have shown us the gun and said so, when we
were talking about Dad, too--or he was. You couldn't possibly have
missed seeing the letters, Pete; they absolutely hit you in the
eye."Peter shook her head thoughtfully. "I don't know, but I do allow
it's queer." She spoke low as Jim came up to them.He looked preoccupied, and seemed in a hurry. "Where's Raa?" he
asked. "I thought you'd got him, Pete.""I haven't seen him.""Not seen him since when?"Peter considered. "He was in our room when they were getting off; but afterwards we were so
busy, I never thought about him.""Well, I can't find him," said Jim in a final voice."Ask Dick.""I have asked him. I've asked Mum and Pegtop too. Nobody seems to
know when he was here last." Jim's tone was vexed, so Peter sought at
once for comfort and reasons."What about him getting on the trail of that Cree, Jim? He sure
would, and follow it up. And Dick says there's a bear waked up in the
woods above. Raa rather hates them; she's come out of her sleep with a
cub, and as she's hungry she may have been getting round here for
food. Anyway, there's no cause to fret yet about him. Raa can sure
take care of himself. I wouldn't be the one to try and take him
against his will."The girl laughed carelessly. There was any amount of truth in her
argument, but at the same time each one of the three remembered how
set the trappers had been on getting the dog.Jim kicked up the snow thoughtfully. "Oh, well," he jerked out."What Cree?" asked Donald eagerly.His sister told him in a few words, making little of it."Of course, he poisoned old Neumann's dogs," decided Donald in a
manner that allowed of no other opinion. "Of course he did. It stares
you in the face. I expect Neumann did him down somehow, and the Cree
paid him out in return by killing his huskies."Donald was well satisfied with his own assumption, but Jim made no
answer. It was not often that he gave way to gloom, but in the present
instance he felt a strong instinct that Raa had been stolen by the
trappers; and, sooner than admit this or allow the dog to be
recovered, they would shoot him and bury the body out of sight.Neither he nor Peter said much as they all went back to dinner. Raa
had not turned up, and silence oppressed the whole party."I believe these men brought us ill-luck," exclaimed Peter
worriedly."Well, naturally, if they stole Raa," said Peggy in her rather
sedate voice. "But you can't call that luck; it's just a robbery.""We must hope," urged Mrs. Lockhart. "After all, there's no time
passed, and one never knows with dogs. Raa is very clever. Let's wait
a bit. Never, never despair about things; it doesn't pay, my
dears."Each one of the five gathered courage and
"We shouldn't sell old Raa, not if we hadn't a cent in the world"
(p. 44)Illustration opposite page 52 in E.E. Cowper's Girls on the
Gold Trail hope; their mother always had that effect. It was not
what she said, but what she was.In the afternoon Peter decided that she and Pegtop would go up into
the forest, clear the rabbit wires, and look for the bear. Jim was
going to cut wood, he said, and Donald would help stack it convenient
to hand for the stove. It was done every two days, but usually by old
Hearne. To-day, however, Jim was disinclined to leave the precincts of
the house. That was because of Raa, of course, though no one said
so."It acts the other way on me," said Peter mournfully, as she and
Peg went swiftly up the slope on the snowshoes, home-made so cleverly,
with curved-up toe points bent when the wood was still wet. Though the
surface of the snow was soft, it was easier by far travelling so than
on moccasins, when the feet sank into holes.When Peter declared that "it acted the other way" with her, she
meant she wanted to get away from home and do things. There was no
doubt in the world that the loss of Raa was going to make a great
difference. Peggy said little for some minutes, and then suggested
that it was possible the Cree Indian without an ear had had a hand in
this trouble also."Oh no." Peter shook her head."Why not?""Oh well, I'm sure he didn't. He killed Neumann's dogs because he
hated Neumann, but why should he kill Raa?""You don't know if he's killed Raa. I thought he might have stolen
him, as fine dogs are so valuable on the trail. Anyway, I can't see
how you can be positive, Pete. You don't know more than we do." So
said Peggy.Before Peter could enter upon "reasons," which usually had small
foundations and yet as often as not proved true, old Dick Hearne
emerged from the wood carrying a sack on his shoulder. He was making
for the Log House."You've cleared the traps, Dick?" said Peggy, looking at the
sack.The old man nodded. He was always economical of words."Oh then we needn't," added Peter. "Never mind, Peg; let's go on
and hunt for the bear.""Don't you get messin' around with that there b'ar," ordered old
Dick, turning back from his journey as he heard her speak."Why not? Bears don't hurt--except grizzlies, and we've none of
them hereabouts. You know our brown bears are about as dangerous as
chickens.""You never know with a b'ar when she's out of winter sleep with a
cub. Don't you gals go
foolhardin' with her. She might act ugly."Peter laughed and abruptly turned the subject. "Dick, have you seen
an Indian around? A Cree with one ear? What's he up to?""I seen him, yes. There's not much of the smilin' neche** Local name for
Indian. about him.""Has he gone?" asked Peggy."Seemin'ly he's departed," allowed Hearne with caution."What did he come here for?" questioned the girl, believing that
the shrewd old man was likely to know more than he would divulge.The deep-set eyes twinkled at her from a network of wrinkles. "Wal,
I dunno as I come acrost him, not for conversation. He wasn't makin'
no friendships by the way. He'd got his notions, and he wasn't askin'
no one's leave, or so it 'peared to me. He was right smart on his job,
was that Cree. Didn't idle none to speak of. Dunno as I've saw an
Injun more smarter one way an' another."Hearne chuckled to himself as over some secret joke. Peggy, who had
been silent till now, suddenly asked,--"Dick, what do you suppose the trappers' dogs died of?""Pizen," answered Hearne shortly."Do you think that Cree did it?" added Peter.Dick made answer in rather a cryptic way. "Wal, there's times when
folkses comes to their deservin's, though not so often as a body might
wish.""But dogs, Dick," urged Peggy. "What had they done, poor
creatures?""That's so. Bad luck in them huskies to get a bad master." And
having so spoken, old Dick went towards the homestead, walking his own
pace in his own way--a way that caused the young Lockharts to say that
he wouldn't hurry if a bull moose chased him, and he wouldn't stop if
he broke his leg! There is no doubt that Dick Hearne was a very
dependable person."He doesn't like Neumann," announced Peggy.Peter answered, "Nobody could," with decision.After that the two sisters dismissed the trappers from their minds,
and sped away into the woods in search of Madam Bear. A mile or two
from home, where the slopes began to roughen into steeps and the woods
had taken on all the grandeur and mystery of the wild forest, the
girls came suddenly upon what they sought, but in the least expected
way.Their attention was drawn by the fussy chattering of a chipmunk,
that most lively and elusive squirrel of the wilds. And there was some
reason in this instance for the chipmunk to fuss, for it was being
besieged in its own home by a large and mangy-looking black bear,
which, standing on hind-legs against the bole of a great tree, was
making vain efforts to claw the squirrel from his nest in a hole.The chipmunk had the advantage all round. The hole was high up, and
had at least two front doors. The bear, clawing the bark ready to
climb, was quite wise enough to realize that climbing would be wasted
effort, because the squirrel could pop out another way and rush up
higher. It was a most unequal contest, and the old bear would never
have begun it had she not been desperately hungry--thin from her
winter sleep, her rough hide hung on her bones like an ill-fitting
suit of clothes--and with a cub to feed.The sisters stood still, entranced, to see what would
happen.CHAPTER
IVGIJIK, THE CEDARTHE futile efforts of the hungry bear, and the angry face of the
chipmunk popping in and out of his doorways, were both ridiculous; but
there was another touch to the picture that made Peter cry out as she
saw it."Oh, Pegtop, look! Did you ever see such a perfect love!"Peggy glanced aside from her observation of the tree and saw what
attracted her sister. An extremely small baby bear, that looked as
though it were dressed in blackish wool--rather like a big toy,
indeed--was sitting up on its haunches watching the manoeuvres of the
squirrel while it whimpered with eagerness. Something in its figure
and attitude went straight to Peter's heart."Oh, Peg, we really must have it. Do look at its face. We could
bring it up, and it would run about the house quite tame."Seeing her sister actually make a move towards the fascinating
infant, Peggy gripped her by the arm. "Are you cracked, Pete? You
can't. You'd make the mother daft.""Oh no. These bears are mild as honey. She might follow, but she
wouldn't hurt us. I could carry it." Peter tried to free her arm."There wouldn't be much left of you if you tried to touch it," said
Peggy drily. "Here, come on, Pete. What's taken you?"It seemed that Peter had lost her heart to the woolly toy that sat
up crying for the squirrel! She made a move, an impulsive move towards
it, and the old bear saw her. Rage with the chipmunk was turned into
instant fury of a much worse kind. The big creature's claws tore down
the bark as she dropped on to all four feet; then she started for the
sisters, her little eyes glowing red, and her mouth open, a very
different bear from the easy, lumbering things that the girls were
used to seeing eat blueberries or honey, or sometimes rolling over
fallen tree-trunks to get at the slugs and beetles hidden under
them.But that is the way with black and brown bears--you never know!
Ninety times out of a hundred safe as a cow, but, like a savage cow,
utterly dangerous the rest of the times.Peggy and Peter did not wait to reason or try to dodge. They were both as fleet of foot as girls
of their type could be, and they were wearing snowshoes, also the
route was downhill--all to their advantage."Look out for snags, Pegtop," called Peter. "Beware of catching our
toes!" And off they went, sweeping over the white ground.In a minute Peggy answered with, "Let's keep apart; it will puzzle
her."It was a good idea, the angry bear being inclined to waver between
the two flying figures that rushed downhill through the woods ahead of
her. She was determined to smash one of them, but which?Then Peter looked back to see if they were gaining, and in the
instant tripped over a half-buried branch and was flung
headlong. Peggy checked on a sweeping curve and came back. She was
cool as the snow, and for the matter of that so was Peter, though it's
not the easiest thing to jump up on to your feet when you are wearing
snowshoes.The bear checked and reared herself upright, a horrible sight, with
her mouth open. There was no time to think or realize that the worst
seemed certain, when there came a shattering report of fire-arms, and
the bear, hit in the face and open mouth, gave a sort of choking grunt
and rolled over headlong.In the confusion Peter had a vague idea she was saved by a shot
from Peg's automatic. Both girls carried them at all times, and were
good shots too; but the sound, answering back and back in a succession
of rumbling echoes, was not the least like the spitting crack of the
automatic.When Peggy came up, Peter, on her feet, was looking round and
listening. "Narrow squeak," she said, and laughed. "Poor old thing,
her head's almost blown out! Now who on earth--""Old Dick, you bet," said Peggy; "followed us because of the
bear. He did warn us! Well, it's a feather in his hat, but the pelt's
worth nothing.""Now I can get that woolly child," Peter
remarked, kneeling down to fasten on her shoes straight. "I ought to
have sprained my foot.""You ought to be dead," retorted Peggy
shortly. "It's just your luck that you're not. I don't see
Dick. What's taken him?"Far away the echoes were retreating into the mysterious shadows of
the forest. Close around grew thick clumps of young banksian pine, and
the way between the trees was everywhere interrupted by
undergrowth. Dodging through this had helped the girls in their flight, though, in a way, it had
also impeded them--and the bear. Now it might conceivably hide the
rescuer, but then why should he hide if it was old Hearne?Peter suddenly stood upright and stared at her sister, hazel eyes
very wide open. "Pegtop, do you think it's that Cree? It can't be
Neumann. Perhaps the Indian is hanging around still. 'Tisn't often
they'll kill Mâkwâ,** The bear. is it?
They worship bears, don't they, or think they are spirits?""Think they are spirits," agreed Peggy. "I believe they say all
sorts of fine things to them before they shoot them! Look here, Pete,
didn't you think the noise of that shot sounded like one of the guns
Indians buy at the settlements from the traders? Not rifles; aren't
they muzzle-loaders--old-fashioned things?""Sure thing, it's the Cree," Peter nodded. "Well, he can have the
old bear for all we care--not much to eat, and the hide is awful; but
we'd better go back and get that poor baby. Come on, Pegtop. We can't let it starve."As a result the two of them arrived at the Log House some time
later, carrying the baby bear between them. It made no objection,
though it whimpered for its mother at moments and as soon as it began
to feel hungry. There was a great
to-do when the party came in, and Jenny, the collie dog, gave tongue
to her disgust.Peter, entirely unsubdued by the narrow escape of the afternoon,
raided the special stores for a tin of canned milk. "Just this once,
mother," she pleaded.The tins were far too precious to be used for infant bears, as may
be imagined, considering the distance they were transported by sled
and canoe from the settlement, and to there from the far-away
towns. The goats must supply what this new child wanted, when they
could be fetched home. Just at present they had wandered away after
fresh food. Besides, a bear cub will eat anything, as everybody knows,
and thrive on it. So argued Peter and Donald especially, while Jim and
Peggy had to allow it was true, and it really was rather funny to see
the little creature sitting up holding a lump of bacon at which it
sucked with keen enjoyment, while its large ears cocked this way and
that to catch every sound in this new world."He shall be my own, and I will call him Barker," said Dolly
seriously. Nobody contradicted the announcement, but they all began to
think of Raa again--Raa, who had not come back; and presently, when
"Mr. Barker" had curled
himself into a ball on the big bear-skin by the stove, sharing very
amicably with Jenny, silence again dropped on the family like a heavy
curtain. Even Donald was speechless. Dick Hearne was in his own
shack. He always kept that to himself, though sometimes he brought his
work--he was never idle--to the Log House.The night had fallen unusually dark, because mist and clouds
obscured the young moon. There was the muggy damp of thaw in the air,
and even inside the house the dwellers could hear a soft trickle and
patter of water dropping. No one ever sat up late. You don't, if you
make your own candles, probably. Besides, the day starts with light
and all are tired, strong as they grow to be.Just as the general move was made, and a final stoking of the stove
begun, the collie leaped to her feet with a perfect clatter of
barking. Jenny never did her warnings by halves; she shouted first,
and thought afterwards. As they all checked, just looking at one
another with questioning eyes, there was a knock at the door--not a
bold knock, but a tapping that seemed rather furtive to expectant
ears.Mrs. Lockhart looked at Jim, and he went forward at once, sliding
along the heavy wooden bars in their
sockets--two, top and bottom. Then he opened the door a little, and
looked out. The others were aware of a sort of stiffening in his
figure as though he were startled. Jenny burst out again, and was only
silenced when Peter cuffed her briskly."Bo' jou'," said a deep, grave voice, and Jim answered the
salutation at once, opening the door wider and backing with a gesture
of invitation.The figure that appeared in the doorway, with the curtain of night
behind, was sufficiently startling, and very imposing indeed. An
Indian it was, who looked like a giant in the rather dim light of the
room. He was clad in the usual way in dressed leather, wonderfully
worked with beads and fringes; round his head was a strip of leather
in which one or two feathers were stuck; his straight black hair was
parted in the middle and hung down, hiding his ears. Of course, the
days of shaving and scalp-locks were gone, with all their suggestion
of horror, but none the less was the Forest man a most striking
figure. He wore a blanket, carried a knife in his belt, and a
muzzle-loading gun in his hand.Peter looked at the gun, and instantly jumped to a conclusion,
which was correct. The giant advanced a step or two into the room, and in those seconds his
deep-set, intensely black eyes had taken in every detail. One could
see that in the shifting flash of the glances. Yet all the while his
face remained inscrutably blank of any expression but dignity. It was
a very fine face as Indians go, now that the ancient racial features
are giving way to modern conditions and blood mixings. Very aquiline,
splendid nose and strong chin, but a grim mouth, eyes set rather close
together, and the forehead receding from the jutting brows.He did not smile, of course, but something in his intensely
controlled manner suggested a friendly feeling. He repeated "Bo' jou'"
as his quick glance came back to Mrs. Lockhart, after taking in the
girls, Donald, the big shadowy room, even the bear cub."Bo' jou', my brother is welcome," said Jim with sedate
kindliness. "Is it a message, or perhaps there is no tea or tobacco in
the chief's lodge? Our hearts are very good towards our brothers of
the woods and lakes.""There is plenty of tea and deer-meat, Chief, if you will rest and
eat," said Mrs. Lockhart, standing upright and somehow contriving to
look quite tall, though she was not actually so. It was her manner and
presence, and of course the force of character behind it.The Indian made a gesture of acknowledgment; then he said, in
carefully chosen English, "Gijik,** The cedar.
tallest of the Ojibways, a great chief, has travelled for many moons
as fast as the feet of the moose fly when the wolf is hungry on his
trail. When the word of my people passes it is not broken. It is
everlasting as the rock that holds up the thundering water. In the
month of Many-caribou-in-the-woods†† September. my white brother
halted at the little shack on Crooked River Creek, three sleeps beyond
the Great Slave Lake, where the wide water comes through the little
lakes from Great Bear. My white brother said, 'I will stay six sleeps
and rest, also my dogs shall rest, and then we will make haste on the
long trail,' because there was very much gold in his load."There was a stir amongst the young Lockharts. From Peg to Donald
the knowledge flashed of what this meant. Only their mother showed no
sign, unless a sort of stiff whiteness creeping over her face showed
that she, too, understood."My white brother was very sick," continued the Indian, touching
his own chest and throat with long brown fingers, and making as though
to cough with effort. Then, suddenly sweeping his arm round as
though indicating space, he
went on with a flash in his black eyes. "The Cedar is great amongst
his people. His district is wide, his traps are never empty, and his
pelts are packed in heaps. Mitawawa, his squaw, is clever to make them
soft. My white brother has a good heart to Gijik and Mitawawa; when
the child is sick he finds good medicine for him, so that the little
one plays again and is happy. He can make well the child of Gijik, but
he cannot make himself well. He stays in the shack that he may grow
strong to take the trail, but he is more sick. Then he digs in the
creek on Crooked River, where the dead pine tree stands above the rock
that is like a bear in shape, and there he puts away the gold that he
has found on the Mackenzie many moons before, because he knows that he
cannot take the long trail yet, and he is afraid of the man with a bad
heart who knows the gold is in the shack."Many moons go by, and my white brother keeps always among the
skins and blanket. Gijik and Mitawawa bring meat for him, and he is
warm. Then he gives his tobacco and his dogs to the Cedar, because of
the meat and wood. He cannot drive out the Evil Spirit, but he is
content when the true word is given, the promise of Gijik. When he
knows the time is short, he writes words upon a paper and gives it to Gijik, that his words may come
safe to the Log House on the Missinnippi River."Mrs. Lockhart made a step forward. She was very white and
quiet."And the letter," she said.The Ojibway looked down at her with a sort of grave understanding
as he slipped his hand within the breast of his leather shirt."My white brother has said that Gijik shall lay his body in the
gully of the rocks by Crooked River and break down the earth and rocks
that it shall be hidden. It is done. Mitawawa and the Cedar have made
all their words true, there is peace by the shores of Crooked River,
and the spirit of my white brother is happy, because the promise is
not broken."Gijik ceased speaking and handed to Mrs. Lockhart a small packet
wrapped in soft leather. It was sewn up carefully.She took it in her hand. "My brother is a great chief," she
said. "The wife and children of the white man give him thanks. All
that they have is his; their hearts are very warm towards the Cedar
and his squaw Mitawawa, and his son, who shall one day be a great
chief also."She spoke with some effort, keeping back all show of feeling. When
she mentioned the child there
was a curious softening of the hawk-like, fierce face.Then she turned and went away, giving a quick injunction to Jim as
she passed him.It was difficult to know what to do in the way of reward, what to
offer or what to say exactly. When you consider that the man had come
about eight hundred miles--as the crow flies; much more when you take
the river windings--in fulfilment of a promise to a sick and dying
white man whom he did not know, because that man had treated him well,
it was not easy to express the immense admiration they all felt for
this serious, dignified giant. Indians they had seen of many tribes
and types, but not one so far to compare with Gijik, the Cedar, who
appeared to be a survival of what the best type of Ojibway would have
been in the days when Indians owned the northern forests and the wide,
white plains of the drear "Barrens."The young Lockharts offered him food. He declined with a polite
gesture. Then Peggy, seized with an inspiration, went to her special
box, a wooden chest in which her private treasures were stored, and
brought out a long necklace of pink carnelian beads that had been sent
to her by relatives in Scotland years ago. It was a greatly valued
ornament; but nothing was too
precious to give to the woman who had nursed the lonely sick man.She held out the chain of shimmering beads coiled on a bed of white
wool, and noticed the flash of satisfaction that showed for a second
only in the man's eyes."For Mitawawa," she explained, smiling, "with the friendship of her
white sister."Dolly was instantly fired with zeal to give something of her own,
and rushed away to look for it. Donald, very shy and worshipping at a
distance hitherto, suddenly made a step forward, and stood staring up
at the dark face, fascinated."Chief," he said, clearing his throat of a certain nervousness, "do
you know a Cree with only one ear, and do you think he has got our dog
Raa?--because the trappers' dogs died of poison, and we've lost Raa,
so I thought I'd ask you."Gijik seemed to freeze into a new aloofness. He simply gave the
little ejaculation which is expressed by "How!" as well as anything,
and made a polite gesture of vague dismissal. At the same time Peter
thought that beneath the impassive mask there flamed a look of
interest and intelligence. She decided that the Cedar either knew, or
was interested to hear this news.She put out her hand and touched his gun. "My brother is a fine
hunter," she said. "He killed the bear, eh?"Then did a flush of satisfaction darken the brown skin. "The young
gazelle was in danger," he said. "Mâkwâ is very fierce
when her cub is young; also she is fleet of foot. It was well that
Gijik was near at hand."Dolly appeared at this moment, full of enthusiasm, and thrust upon
the guest a woolly creature that might have been intended for a dog, a
lamb, or a cat. It had little wheels in its toes to run on, a tiny
bell round its neck, and a hoarse squeak in its ribs. It was somewhat
the worse for wear, but unbroken. Together with this interesting
animal she offered a diminutive tea-set in a little cardboard
box--cups, saucers, teapot--all of some white metal that shone
polished."Please give them to your little child, Chief," urged Dolly, her
round face flushed and her yellow curls in a tumbled mop. She was
certainly ten years old, but, being small and the youngest of the
family, had not yet attained grown-up manners!It was plain that these things struck astonishment into the heart
of the Cedar."How," he said, as he took the animal gingerly, and gazed at
it. Then he smiled, making a little
guttural sound like suppressed laughter as he realized the
tea-things. After that he wrapped the things in a corner of his
blanket, looked round at the party as he made a gesture of farewell,
stepped out into the night, and was gone with long, silent
strides.Jim shut the door, slid the bolts, and the four of them sat down on
the skin by the stove to "collect their wits," as Peter said. Dolly
had gone to her mother."That's one of the finest chaps you could encounter," declared
Jim. "Peg, did you notice he refused everything of value? He wouldn't
have the tea even. Why, an ordinary neche
simply grabs at presents. No wonder--"There was a pause."No wonder what?" asked Donald."Oh well, I was going to say no wonder poor Dad liked him. He's
simply one of the best. Glad he liked those rotten toys. How awfully
rum an Indian's mind is.""He'd only got that old muzzle-loading trade gun," said Peter
regretfully. "Proved he didn't touch Dad's things anyway." Then she
made one of her long shots. "I wonder who was the man with a bad heart
from whom Dad hid his gold? There was an
enemy."CHAPTER
VPETER'S HEART'S DESIRENEARLY twenty-four hours passed before the young ones saw the
letter brought by Gijik. The following day, after supper, their mother
told them what was in it, and the elder three read the weak, scrawled
lines. It was written in pencil, and obviously at different times,
because it was disconnected and often the sickness of the writer made
him imagine he had told things that were left out, or unexplained. He
dwelt on the kindness of the trapper, Gijik, and his squaw; mentioned
the illness of the child; then he spoke of his luck in hitting a vein
of dust on the Mackenzie River; said he was so eager to get home that
he sold his claim after getting "enough," but never told how much the
"enough" had been. He'd got his lungs frosted, he said, in a terrible
cold spell, and felt bad; so he bought a dog team and hurried, taking
the route across the Great
Slave Lake, meaning to come into the River, then across Athabasca,
Wollaston, and Deer Lakes and on to the Missinnippi River--the
quickest way home by the frozen river trails. He'd unhitched at this
shack he found on Crooked River Creek, and was waiting till the
"Hoo-doo"** Bad luck. let him go. There was a
spell of forgetfulness after that--evidently illness hampered him;
then he said he had buried the dust, and Gijik would tell them
where. He would not write that down. Gijik would carry the letter when
he'd finished his winter trapping. He said he'd given the sled and
dogs to the Indian to help him on the long trail. They must believe
everything Gijik said. He was one of the best--a true man. He would
show them where the treasure was hidden. Finally, the pencil marks
growing weaker and more uncertain, he said they must fetch the gold
and give it to their mother. He told her she must let Jim go. Jim was
a man. Then they must leave the Log House and go down to Montreal and
make an engineer of Donald. All this was more and more difficult to
decipher, because the sentences were disconnected as well as such
faint writing. Quite at the end of the letter, which was not signed or
finished--he had intended to continue it, no doubt--came a warning renewed against some one whose
name was left out. And that was all. Just odd scraps of paper all
shapes and sizes."I think some of it must have been mislaid," said Peggy
gently. "I'm sure there was more about this enemy before, then the bit
of paper was lost, because he says 'as I told you,' and he doesn't
tell. Besides, the words don't seem to continue properly."Jim took the pieces, and agreed. "Wish we knew the name," he
said."Wonder if it was Neumann?" Peter fired off one of her guesses."That's rubbish. Neumann didn't know anything about him," retorted
Jim with decision."How do we know that?" hotly from Peter."Don't argue," urged Peggy quickly. "We shall know some day, I
expect. Anyway, let's thank God for that Indian."Suddenly Mrs. Lockhart said, "If I'd known last night I would have
given that man anything I possessed, and obliged him to stay and tell
me everything; but it was so long before I could read it well enough
to understand, and then he was gone. Jim, we must see him again
somehow, and the wife too. There, I'll go to bed, children. We will
talk more to-morrow."When she and Dolly were gone, the others said to each other,
"She'll be better now she really knows, poor little Mum;" and cutting
into the dead pause that followed, Donald asked,--"I say, Jim, when are you going? You'll have to, of course. She's
got to have that gold."Nobody answered; it was altogether a question too staggering to be
replied to out of hand. Even Peter did not speak, though, like the
parrot in the story, "she thought the more." At the same time it was
true that in a sense the shock had cleared the air. They knew. They
could make plans and settle their course of action, which was less
painful than constant expectation or dread.The next few days passed soberly. There was a constant review of
these happenings going on. Why this? Why the other? And so on. Old
Hearne said the Ojibway had made a little camp up in the forest near
the place where the bear charged. It seemed he had a sled and dogs,
but was travelling light and seemed in a hurry."Fine buck he was," allowed the old man. "Right smart Injun,
trigged up with all that fine work? I seen him strike camp and take
the trail after he quit this. He wasn't allowin' no grass to sprout under his moccasins. Dunno when
he came in--before dawn, like enough, and slep' in the day. Well, he
was a right smart buck."It was not often that Dick would admit approval of an Indian, so
this was praise. At the same time it was all mysterious. Was he
connected with the Cree? What did he know about the poisoning of the
dogs? Indeed, was he the person who did it? And what about Raa?Day after day went by, and the dog did not come back. Miserably the
children decided that he must be dead--poisoned, perhaps, like
Neumann's huskies, by one or other of those two mysterious Indian
visitors.Meanwhile, though they all talked about Raa, about the thaw and the
breaking up of the river, with all the many happenings of their daily
life, one idea only held the first place--with the three elder
children certainly, probably in Mrs. Lockhart's mind too. You could
not get away from the immense importance of the treasure--that gold
dust--and of the journey to get it. The first and most obvious fact
was this, that it must be fetched, and there was no one to fetch it
but the Lockharts themselves. For days no one referred to the matter,
though they were all thinking of it. Then Peggy, stealing down to the river-bank to look at the ice
and muddy water sweeping away to the eastward, came upon Peter
apparently doing the same thing. Both girls stood silently looking and
listening and smelling the signs of spring in everything, from the
bursting leaf buds to the chirruping of the chickadees getting ready
for nests and families."Well?" said Peggy tentatively."Well," retorted Peter, "how long are we all going on
pretending?""Oh"--Peg was a little shocked--"we are not 'pretending.'""We are; it's honest to say so. We three are simply full of the
trail. You know we are, Pegtop. We've got to do it, sooner or later,
then why not sooner? Dad's money must not be wasted. He trusted us to
get it for mother, and we must set about it."A flush spread over Peter's brown face. She was hot about this, and
a little annoyed at Peg's deliberateness. She said to herself it was
tiresome that Pegtop was so slow."It's a serious question," said Peggy. "There's a lot to it,
Pete. First of all, to take the long trail all that way is pretty hard
for men, even the toughest of them, and Jim's only sixteen. Then we
should leave mother alone.""What about Dick Hearne?" asked Peter sharply."He's an old man; he's very slow. Once we get up there among the
lakes we may be months--years--before we can get back with the
gold. What about mother then?"Pegtop's grey-blue eyes were intense and grave in their gaze. Peter
made a gesture of almost passionate annoyance."You are always the same--ice, freezing every little river of
adventure. I believe you'd like to do just chores** Household tasks. every hour of your life, Peg,
round and round and never start out on a new trail. I'm dying to go, I tell you truly. You bet Jim is
too. Well, three would be better than two, because one might fall ill
or get an accident. Three it must be--we
three. Honest, we can do it. Say we go by the rivers, we can fetch
Great Slave Lake and this Crooked River Creek in two months--barring a
smash--and be back before the freeze-up! Come now, what's the good of
hunting trouble? We shall have some hold-ups, but I'm allowing a month
or six weeks outside the time for that. Mother will be busy all
summer. She'll have Dick and the children, and before winter--end of
Many-caribou-in-the-woods month--we shall be safe home with the
stuff. Then, if mother wishes,
we can go to Edmonton, or anywhere. Can't you see how easy it is
really when you face it?""I see how easy you make it, Pete. Sounds all right the way you put
it, I allow, but that's not going to be all. There'll be some bad
times.""Bad times! Well, that's so; but look here, Peg: what's the good of
being alive if you can't stand up to bad times? Aren't we tough? You
remember the other day when the bear chased me down, I'd got a
sickening pain in my foot where the strap took a cinch in my instep?
It was deadly, but I didn't sit down because of it and say, 'I can't
go on; let the bear eat me,' did I? We got through right enough.""Yes, because Gijik shot the bear," answered Peggy, shaking her
head. "That cinch tripped you up all right, and you'd have been killed
anyway if he hadn't come along."Peter shrugged her slim shoulders irritably. "Oh well, what's the
use of arguing? Point is, we shall have to do it, so you may as well
make the best of the job to start with."Now there was so much truth in this last remark that Peggy answered
nothing. She had a clear, orderly vision about things, and realized
this at any rate. Peter saw her mind and, loving her as she did with a most devoted admiration,
softened from urgency to persuasion."If it were nothing there'd be no fun, you see, would there, old
Pegtop? Anybody can stick in the same hole all the year round and feel
safe. I'm just keen as a blizzard to do the things that are done, and
I know we can do. Please be keen too, Peggy.""What is to be will be," answered the other girl. "I've nothing to
do with it, Pete. It's mother.""But mother will ask you?""She may ask, but her mind will be made up when she does. Mother's
like granite; you can't make an impression on her fixed resolve. I'll
tell you one thing, though. I believe we shall have to do it. It
mayn't be this year, perhaps, but we shall come to it.""Not this year? How awful!" murmured Peter despairingly."And you mustn't urge it or bother mother," went on Peggy with
firmness. "We ought to remember she's had this bad knock, and not
begin to worry her yet about trails and adventures. She comes first,
and she's got a lot on her shoulders."Gloom fell upon Peter's spirit like a blight. She went to her work
with lagging steps. The bare
idea of having to wait a year--more than that, as the start was bound
to be in May at earliest--lay like a weight on her mind. Raa was lost
or dead! There was no hope now of poor Dad's return--the door was shut
on the joy of hope and expectation! Peter stood in the brown mud of
the shore watching with sad eyes the great ice slabs roll and twist,
climb up sideways, groan, crack, and dive into the foamy water. Life
was going to be horribly monotonous. Even the old joy of canoeing
would be poor fun if you could only go short journeys.The day positively dragged till evening with Peter. She took
matters hardly always--if they were hard. That is to say, she was very
much up or very much down, and enthusiastic either way--a contrast to
Peggy's steady level. She happened to see nothing much of Jim, which
was unusual. Nothing much of old Hearne either, though she wanted to
"have it out" with both and get them on to her point of view. Surely,
she thought, a little pressure was allowable. It would be so much
better for everybody to get this business done and finished.Considering, then, this dreary outlook, Peter got the surprise of
her life at supper that night, and it was Mrs. Lockhart who gave
it."Dick thinks the rivers will be clear and all conditions as
favourable as we can expect in a month or so from now," she said. "Jim
and Dick are going to make a new canoe at once, longer and stronger
than the old one, and while they do that we must get the pack
ready."Slowly Peter turned very white. She opened her lips to speak, found
them too dry, and closed them again. She felt the shock in every
nerve. Peggy it was who answered. She was a little pink, but otherwise
unshaken."You mean, Mum, that you wish--""Yes, Jim and I have talked it out. Then we consulted Dick, and
it's settled as far as plan goes; but, of course, the rest must be
worked. There's a lot to it, children." For one instant her voice
shook, but she took hold of herself at once--she had the heart of a
pioneer and mother of heroes--and went on, "We mustn't forget
anything, because you'll likely miss it badly when you are on the
trail and away in the wild. Peg, you'd better help me make the
list. Dick will tell us; he knows."Peter's heart suddenly sank like a stone in a well. After all
nothing had been said as to those picked out for the venture! Dick
apparently, Jim too, Peggy seemed to be included! She dared not ask
the question that would settle it, and listened with a drumming in
her ears to the talk that
followed. Canoe must be about fifteen feet or more, not less. It must
be made of the strong winter bark, in one piece without a break
underneath. They must have small steel traps as well as wires, a
small-meshed fishing-net, and hooks on a fish-line. Dick had said they
ought to take flint and steel as well as matches--the latter might get
wet by some accident, even if the supply held out. Also, he
recommended a few pounds of tobacco for trading with Indians, as well
as plenty of tea.One person said one thing, one another, and Peggy wrote all down on
a slate in a painstaking way as though they were cooking recipes and
she had little to do with it."She's going, I suppose," thought Peter, "but she doesn't look
it!"The one person in the family who took the whole business as an
uninteresting matter of course was Dolly. She was wrapped up in the
bear cub, whose name had been changed already from Mr. Barker to
Mr. Boxer, because he sat up and boxed Jenny in such a 'cute
fashion. The collie was rather nervous of his smacks, too; he had
claws.She explained her feeling to old Hearne, who was devoted to her;
also to Donald, who was almost shocked."You see," she said, "it's quite a usual thing to go on the trail
in the North; everybody does it sometimes. But it's not usual to have
a bear cub of your own--a live one!""You look sharp you don't get bit," warned old Dick,
chuckling. "What you want with an or'nery little cuss of a bear cub,
hey? Mischeevious they are too. Dunno as yer Mar will be pleased any,
time he's growed a bit."So the talk went on of one thing and another, and Peter dared not
put her fate to the test. She sat idly, quite unlike her busy self,
watching for a word that should tell the truth and put out that tiny
spark of hope. Then, just as the excited party broke up for the night,
and the stove-stoking and bread-setting began, Donald asked what Peter
was aching to know for herself."Mum, I suppose you wouldn't let me go?"Mrs. Lockhart smiled and shook her head. "Some day you'll go," she
said; "they all do. Wait a few years, Don. You've got to look after me
and Dolly.""Oh, is Dick going too, then?""No, Dick must stay here. There's too much to do. Jim goes with Peg
and Peter."Peter felt as though the floor rose and hit her in the face. Her
voice when she spoke was a new voice,--"I'm to go, mother?""Yes, dear. You can stand a lot, and I couldn't let Peggy go unless
you do. But, Pete, it won't be all smiles, you know."There was a note of warning in the words and the tone, but Peter's
eyes were flashing, and she seemed to grow taller as she looked down
at the grave little woman who spoke."I don't know what to say--only, I can't thank you enough for
trusting me; and we'll sure bring back this stuff and do what Dad
wanted of us."Peggy, laying a cloth over the pan of dough, paused a moment and
looked, but she said nothing.Jim turned from sliding the big bars into the staples on the
doorposts, and he said nothing either. Peter repeated in a tense
voice, "Yes, if we die for it, we'll sure bring back that gold. Dad
shan't have worked for nothing. He said you must have it, and you
shall have it."CHAPTER
VIA WOLF HOWLS IN THE NIGHTJUST about a month after that, the Kinoj--in
Indian language, meaning the "Pike"--was on her way down river heading
for the far north. She was a splendid canoe, and Jim had carved her
head roughly into the likeness of that savage fish. They took with
them as little as they could do with, packed in rubber bags, and a
tarpaulin sheet extra to use as a shelter and wind-screen in sleeping
out.You will understand that they would have often to face a land
trail, as well as water; and when that happened it would be necessary
to carry all they possessed on their backs, the canoe included! You
don't carry more than you need in such circumstances.Summer had come all at once; the woods were glorious. "Swish click,
swish click" sounded the paddles as the Kinoj
flew along with the stream, sometimes through avenues of forest, wild and dim, sometimes by very
rugged scenery, bleak and rocky, with pines growing in desolate
fashion and barren hills far off. The travellers soon got away from
the country they knew; every day and night opened up stranger and
wider stretches of river.The more inhabited parts lay to the south and far east; the
settlement at Cumberland House, for instance, and Edmonton at least a
hundred miles south. Every twelve hours of travel carried the canoe
away farther from human habitations, and towards the chain of immense
lakes and woods that they must cross to reach that mysterious Crooked
River Creek for which they were bound. Each day's journeying went so
smoothly, each night's sleeping was so comfortable, that Peter was
inclined to exhibit symptoms of what is called "swelled head," and
more than once gave her opinion that going on the long trail was
really nothing much, and men made a tremendous fuss over nothing. Jim
laughed because he was well content, enjoying himself immensely. Peggy
alone looked serious. The only thing she said was,--"I wish mother knew that we're having a real good time. She went on
the trail herself, and it was pretty bad then.""Yellow Head Pass, you mean," Jim answered. "I remember that." Then his face fell, because he
remembered Raa also.What was strange at first became habit in a few days, each one of
the three setting about a task when they landed to make camp. For the
last half-hour before landing they would look out for a fairly
sheltered site; and one night, coming to a wooded grove sloping to the
water and closed in at the back by the velvety darkness of woods, they
cried out that this was a perfect camp, and stopped earlier than
usual. On the far side was a sharply rising knoll that dropped in a
bluff to the river, and within its shelter a grand anchorage for the
canoe and first-rate fishing pool.Peggy collected dry sticks, Peter took out a line from the end of
the canoe and set about fishing for pickerel--what the Indians call
ôga, and cook over a clear little fire
on a stick run through their gills. Jim landed the packs; then he
hunted about for a dead birch sapling, bent it over, split the bend
with their little axe, and brought away enough of the dry white pith
to start Peggy's fire in fine style. After that he set snares for
rabbits and a trap for hares, because the travellers pursued a regular
plan of catching their food as far as possible, and thus saving the
few stores they were able to carry for the time when these might be vital. There was a
precious side of bacon, a bag of beans, and many little parcels of
pemmican, which is deer meat cooked and pounded into paste and then
squeezed into small bags. It is not very nice, but extremely
nourishing, and you can carry enough for weeks in a limited space.On that particular evening they were earlier in camp owing to the
right place turning up so soon, consequently there seemed to be more
time in which to sit about and hold a review of the situation. After
eating the fish with some flat dampers that Peggy cooked in the hot
ashes, and drinking tea unsweetened--they had no sugar, of course--the
three sat round the fire, looking to and repairing snares and net, and
polishing up fire-arms. Both the girls carried automatics, and were
smart in the use of them too.It was then that Peter gave the other two a slight shock without
intending it. Rubbing up her beloved little weapon, she said, "I
wonder whether that Winchester of Neumann's was Dad's? I believe it
was--always shall. The initials were pretty strong evidence.""What are you talking about?" asked Jim, just glancing up from his
job of getting ready a snared rabbit for breakfast."Oh, I forgot; it was Don who told me. You others didn't know; something got in the way--Raa
was lost. I was going to tell you, Jim, and then, what with Raa, and
the bear and the Cedar--""Suppose you tell now, then," suggested her brother
patiently. Peggy went on cleaning the little pan with sand and
leaves. She was very particular.Peter told them what Don had seen and reported, reminding Peggy of
Neumann's anger, which Jim had quite forgotten. In support of her own
belief she concluded with, "You know it was just the little gun that
Dad always wanted."Peggy looked from one to the other, and her eyes darkened."Wish I'd known," grunted Jim."Don said nothing till they were gone," Peggy reminded him."You couldn't prove ownership by two letters only, but they were a
give-away all the same. My word! what a skunk the fellow must be if
it's true." Jim positively growled as he gave this opinion."I'm not surprised," said Peggy."Thought you liked him, Pegtop?""No--never. And La Perle's nearly as bad. Not quite, of course, but
he's got a face like a mink--horrid little beast! Always slinking and
biting--little bloodsucker!"Peter and Jim laughed at this outburst from level-headed Pegtop,
the former saying warmly, "I am so pleased. I hate them, and it's nice
to know you do too, because you're so clever, Peg--you are."Peggy flushed and denied this accusation; Jim remarking with a
headshake,--"All the same, it's hardly circumstantial evidence; proves nothing
at all.""Bother proof," retorted Peter. "We all know he stole it. The
question is, when?"As Jim refused to enter into this question, and began setting up
the tarpaulin shelter, they all rolled themselves in their blankets
and prepared to sleep till dawn, which was the rule.But for the first time Peter could not sleep. She was used to the
ground as a bed, and felt no hardness in the balsam branches and bush
they used for beds. The fire was steady, and a pile of dry wood lay at
hand for keeping it alight. The night was quite dark, but for the pale
road of the passing river, with the black fringe of the farther shore
dimly visible on the sky. To the north of the little camp, and
over-shadowing them, rose the rocky knoll with its crown of pines. It
was the end of a spur, apparently, and rose into hills as it went
inland.Peter, unable to sleep, lay staring at this rampart and the shape
of it, so humpish! She
wondered what was on the other side. Then she heard, far away, the
howl of a wolf, terribly desolate and unmistakable in the quiet
night. She had heard that sound very often in winter cold at the Log
House. Wolves go very long distances hunting when they can't find
food--hundreds of miles; but she wondered why one wolf alone sent up
that terribly lonely cry in the springtime, when the woods were full
of moving life and every sort of game.The wind made a soft murmur in the pine tops. Busy little
creatures, bent on their own affairs, came out of the dark to peep at
this surprising thing--a fire, and strange beings they had never seen
before.Peter, like all her family, had wonderful eyesight, and she noted
these movements and understood them--rabbits followed by minks and
foxes chiefly, but also fisher-cats and little grey ermines. She
shifted softly on to her elbow and put sticks on the fire, then,
clasping hands round bent knees, she sat up to wait for sleepy
feelings. Again she looked towards the black barrier, and at that
moment the wolf cry came again from beyond it--anxious, wailing!Peter's heart gave a little leap of sheer excitement. This
wandering wolf had scented the camp on the west wind, and was
coming. She wondered what it
would do--certainly not approach the fire in any case. She gazed long
and keenly at the rocks from behind which the cry came. Nothing;
surely the wolf would go away up into the woods. It would not come
round the bluff, for no wolf will enter water; they will not wet their
feet, much less swim, unless driven by a forest fire. That Peter knew
very well.She was just preparing to roll up again in her blanket and attempt
to sleep when, with a shock, she saw that something was moving on the
top of the rocks. She gazed, motionless and absorbed, and in another
moment was sure that a black shape shifted on the blackness of the
background; only because it moved did she distinguish it. She thought
it was coming down.Peter was immensely interested, but not the least afraid. She
believed this crawling shape to be the lonely wolf, but why it should
make for the camp was a mystery, unless it was from sheer
inquisitiveness. She had often heard from old Dick how wolves will
come, six or seven even, and actually sit round a hunter's fire like
dogs, enjoying the warmth, with their tongues hanging out--when they
are well fed, not when they are hungry! Was this wolf coming? She was
very keen indeed to have a
real experience, and waited breathless for fear of scaring the wild
thing.The shape of it was lost as it reached the base of the rocks, and
then, almost directly, she saw two green spots, close together as eyes
might be, and they seemed actually to be fixed on her eyes as though
the beast met her gaze--which she knew was impossible. No doubt,
though, it could see the fire, the camp, and the human figures. Nearer
it came, crawling and silent.Peter suddenly remembered with a qualm that it might be a lynx, one
of those terribly savage and powerful members of the cat tribe that
other animals avoid almost as they do porcupines. The eyes of a lynx
do glare in the dark like wolves' eyes. She thought of that, and drew
her automatic from its holster at her belt with as little movement as
possible. Yet she observed that this animal checked and crouched still
lower; it had seen her move her arm, therefore must be watching very
intently.Nearer and nearer it came, till she could see that it had the shape
of a wolf--very large, too, and shaggy; it crawled low on the
ground. Suddenly Peter fancied it was going to spring, and with a
quick move she pulled a stick of smouldering wood from the fire and
waved it in little
jerks. The sparks flew about, and flame ran up the branch. The
crouching beast gave a quick swerve aside, but made no sound. A yard
or two off it stopped again, and then Peter heard a low whine--a
little questioning whine--and it cringed towards her again.A flash of inspiration lighted Peter's brain. "My santy!" she
gasped under her breath. "Am I dreaming? Raa! Raa!"The big, shaggy, crouching shape was close to her in a moment; a
heavy paw was laid on her arm, and a great head rubbed lovingly
against her leathers."Oh, Raa! Oh, dear Raa!" cried the girl, with something of a choke
in her voice. "And I thought you were a wolf! So you are, nearly. If
you hadn't been, you'd have come tearing along like Jenny. Oh, where
have you been, and what have you got round your
dear old neck?""What in the name of sense are you up to, Pete?" demanded the
wide-awake voice of Jim."Sense? Here's Raa!" answered Peter in a tone of lofty triumph.Jim snorted. It is safe to say that he didn't believe it, but was
too polite to give his sister the lie."Well, she wouldn't be nursing a wolf," remarked Peggy, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, and
matter-of-fact as usual."Put wood on the fire and light up a bit," went on Peter. "He's got
a leash or something on him; he's been captive right enough. Oh, he
is thin!"The camp grew busy, the fire shot up, and the great dog was drawn
into the circle of light, when the three began to understand how
cruelly he had been used. His shaggy coat was matted with mud and
blood, weals and welts could be felt under his hide; every rib was
visible, and his spine and flanks had taken the shape of a starved
wolf; his beautiful bushy tail hung down; one of his eyes was so
swelled by a blow as to be closed, perhaps blinded; his lip was torn,
probably by the same blow. The dog had been used with the fiendish
cruelty which some drivers will exercise on huskies in their
power.Peter breathed out ejaculations of fury and pity as one thing after
another was discovered. Peggy sped off to the river and brought back a
panful of water. Jim said nothing, but his face grew blacker every
minute.There was a stout thong of babiche, made of moose-hide, round the
dog's neck, and what looked like the remains of a hastily made muzzle
of the same, plaited; to this collar dangled a rope of the same babiche, and this was obviously
cut through, leaving three or four feet of it trailing. The inference
was that Raa had been muzzled, but had managed to rub and scrape this
aside to a certain extent after he escaped. He was starved enough in
all conscience, probably owing to that chiefly, as he could have
caught rabbits easily had he been quite free. The most puzzling thing
was the cutting of the thong! Who had cut it? The dog could not have
used his teeth on it. It must have been cut in the first place to set
him at liberty.They washed him, after setting him free of these entanglements,
then they gave him a meal, sparing nothing, and finished up with
tea. Raa liked tea, but seldom got it."If only he could tell us who did it," said Peter."And who was his friend," added Peggy.Jim gave a little grunt of scorn. Then he said, "He will--some
day.""What, Raa will?""Rather! You bet we shall come across these curs sooner or later,
and then he'll tell us. Won't you, old man? A dog like Raa remembers
to the end, either way, kindness or brutality--just like an Indian;
they are on it till they die. I suppose it's not so very queer after
all."For three days the little camp rested under the shade of the rocky
bluff and by the swiftly moving river, because daylight proved to them
how very bad was old Raa's condition. What you could not see at night
became terribly evident in the morning. He wanted rest, food, and
care; while the constantly interesting question was, where had he come
from? From the north, because he had crossed the barrier above the
camp, and across the river seemingly, because he was quite wet when he
arrived. It was a mystery, the most wonderful part of it all being his
instinct in finding his own friends. Of course, he had the super-power
of scent, sight, and hearing that belong to the wolf tribe in such a
marked degree; but as he had crossed the river to find them it was the
more amazing, though he was on the trail for home in any case--again
by instinct.Another question pressed itself on the party. What was the
incessant hum of far-away drumming--low, deep, and ceaseless? That
first night they had not noticed anything much, because of the noise
of the river and the west wind in the pine tops--the sound, too, was
blown away from them; but next day it began to impress itself, and
presently Jim said he was sure it meant the falls where the river
tumbled into the lonely three-cornered lake that fills up the sharp bend of the Missinnippi at
this point."Oh, triumph!" Peter gave a shout. "That shows what a long way
we've come--nearly two hundred miles already!""Counting bends," allowed Jim."Oh, don't snuff me out," Peter begged. "Why, we are getting
through like wildfire."Peggy looked at her prancing sister in a sort of tolerance, and
smiled."Don't," Peter requested; "I see what you are thinking.""There's a good deal to do yet," suggested Peggy."Well, and it's only May! We've got all the summer, and we've got
Raa now, and we are just come to the first lake.""All right," said Peggy, and smiled again. "Now, let's get
busy. Raa wants a lot to eat, and the net is torn. What about catching
a good weight of fish and drying it in the smoke? Would that do,
Jim--for Raa, I mean?"Jim said it would do, of course; but if they'd come to the lake and
the falls it would bring quite a new kind of trail."We must cross, you see," he explained; "cross before the current
gets too strong, and take the trail through the woods. That means hand
porterage of all our pack, besides the canoe. We shall find it a load without fish."Peggy said no more. She saw the difficulty. Peter brushed it aside
cheerfully."We'll give him as much as he'll eat for three days," she
suggested, "and then we can snare rabbits and shoot game while we're
on the forest trail.""Not that last--not on your life," contradicted Jim with
decision. "We're not going to shoot game till we are forced. There is
only a certain amount of ammunition, and we're bound to keep that for
emergency. Besides--""Besides what?" demanded Peter."Oh, well--nothing."Peter laughed. "I know. I guess you mean enemies. We've got some
about, you bet, ours and Raa's, and we're not through with them
yet. Never mind; I don't care. We shall get
some exciting times anyway--better than a smooth trail all the
way."To these optimistic sentiments Jim made no reply. He was very fond
of Peter, but regarded her rather as one might a keg of dynamite--you
never knew what she would be up to or what explosion she might cause!
You had to be cautious in your dealings with her.Meanwhile Raa's wounds were being treated with a certain healing balsam that the Indians
use. It oozes from cracks in trees in the form of gum. Of course he
licked it off where he could reach it, but he was mending every hour
in body and spirit--the old Raa coming back.When the time of late afternoon came with its lengthening shadows,
Peter went to fish from the rocks at the point, and sat there busy and
happy, till suddenly her attention was drawn by the rhythmic noise of
paddles--a sufficiently exciting sound when you are all alone in the
forest, for all you know a couple of hundred miles from company!Up and down she looked, but saw nothing at first--no human life to
break the steady flow of the river running down between the
woods. Then, against the stream around the lower bend appeared, one
behind the other, three Indian canoes, painted and rigged out in fine
style. Each canoe carried three Indians, two working the paddles and
one in the bows with a brass-bound "trade" gun--a forty-five--one of
the noisy type carried by Gijik! All the men appeared to be in
war-paint--feathers, fringes, weapons. Peter observed this with inward
thrills, and, slipping round the corner, she sped towards the camp to
tell the others.CHAPTER
VIITHE FOREST TRAIL"NOT war, surely?" said Peggy, looking
anxiously at Jim, who got up, went down to the shore, and stood
motionless watching the three canoes pass up stream. They did not stop
but went on, the gorgeous and bedecked rowers staring at the young man
and the camp with expressionless faces as they passed. When they were
out of sight, Jim strolled back to the fire and patted Raa, who was
snarling silently with his hackles up."Not war," he said; "the paint is different. It's ceremonial paint,
kind of High Mumbo Jumbo business. Sort of thing they do when they
visit another tribe in all their best. Dad told me about it; we saw a
lot of them dressed up when we went down to the settlement. You bet
they've been potting poor old Mâkwâ and put on these
things to pacify his spirit. Beads, quills, and wool, fringes, and
feathers! Rum notions they have! But
they'd got old Mâkwâ's hide, sure thing. I saw it in the
last canoe; must have come some way, for we didn't hear their
shots.""Wish we could see them again," said Peter; "they did look so
exciting."Jim threw himself flat on his back and stared at the tree tops,
while he rubbed Raa's ears and wrinkled his sharp nose up with the
palm of a gently patting hand."Rum world it is," he remarked philosophically. "Just fancy
dressing yourself up to shoot a bear, and painting yourself in
patterns to soften the blow! My word, it rather gets me, things these
Johnnies do! When you come to think of it, old Mâkwâ's
feelings don't matter much when he's dead."Peter looked very earnest. "But they believe
he's got a soul, Jim. Do you know, I think it's rather jolly of
them. How do you know he hasn't got a soul? He may have, and his soul
might be pleased at seeing their respect for him.""What about the fish, Pete?" asked Peggy. "It's supper time. Have
you got some?""Great snakes, I expect they all got away!" cried Peter
uneasily."As long as the line hasn't got away--" began Peggy, but Peter was
gone; like a shaft from a
blow-gun she flew, and as noiseless on her active feet.The line was all right, thanks to a hitch over a stump; also there
were fish on the hooks, besides those she had caught before. Peter
returned to camp in what Peggy called "her state of righteousness,"
and wanted to renew the argument about the bear's soul; but the others
snubbed it."There must be an Indian camp or village or some such up river,"
said Jim as he sat up cleaning the fish. "We never heard or saw
anything of it, but I expect they are wise about every move we've
made. Wonder what they think.""Wonder they haven't been down to palaver," said Peggy."Head men were away rounding up Mâkwâ. That was
why. Young chiefs and squaws wouldn't move without leave. Jolly fine
discipline amongst those fellows.""I say, let's go and call on them," urged Peter, but her brother
laughed dryly."Women and girls can't very well go and call on Indian braves. They
don't see it in the same light as we do. Besides, no good wearing out
our moccasins running after them. They'll come here fast enough
presently; hope they will, too, for I want to ask them about the
forest trail and the falls."Sooner than the three expected Jim's prophecy came true.When supper was over, and the little camp quiet in fire-glow, while
they sat talking over plans, Raa stiffened in warning; the hair on his
strong shoulders bristled, and his lips lifted over the long white
fangs."Don't notice," said Jim, very low. "Go on speaking, Pegtop. We're
sure going to have visitors." He threw an arm across the great dog's
neck and dragged him down. "Here, Pete, look after Raa. I'll have to
go and meet them."One minute, and the soft crunch of a footstep crushed the pine
needles; then a figure appeared just outside the circle of light, then
another.Jim sprang up and went to meet them.These braves had discarded some of their robes of state, and
appeared in much-embroidered leather shirts and leggings. They were
stiff and dignified, with mask-like faces, but all the time their
black eyes darted glances that took in every item of the camp and the
travellers."Bo' jou'. Bo' jou'," said the oldest and foremost as Jim met him,
and in friendly style they accepted tobacco and sat down on their
heels in a half circle, the last of the three men being almost
entirely in shadow.As they filled their pipes they observed silently the two girls and
the dog in the background, the girls receiving the most casual glance,
as they proved nothing except that this expedition could not be
warlike--women meant peaceful intentions. The simple fact was that,
being Indians, and therefore keenly inquisitive, they wanted to find
out what it was all about, and why three young people were on the long
trail northward, not in the direction of trade settlements. Also,
whether they had tea, tobacco, and ammunition, and whether it could be
obtained by trading, for it was very seldom that Indians were not what
is called "on the make."All these things the young Lockharts knew, and Jim waited without
impatience. When the pipes were filled the Cree volunteered that his
name was Oo-koo-koo, which means "The Owl," and that his friends were
Aivick ("The Caribou") and Kee-way-din ("The North Wind"). The other
two men grunted when their names were mentioned. Oo-koo-koo himself
was most appropriately named. He had rather large eyes, with arched
brows and a hooked nose. Aivick was probably called so for fleetness
of foot. And as for the person in the shadows with the melancholy
title, it was not possible to see how he came by it.Jim began by asking questions, to give the impression that he was
looking for a trapping district on which he could settle. To this
Oo-koo-koo objected--very politely--that this particular district
belonged to himself and his friends."If my white brother trap on this ground he shoot, all same kill,"
he remarked."Oh, I know, but I want to trail much farther north," explained
Jim, "to Deer Lake and beyond. Will my brother tell me if I can take
the canoe all the way, and whether the trail is good?"The chief shook his head. Then his long brown hand made a gesture
in the direction of that far-away drumming sound, and he said it was
rapids, then falls. He picked up a bit of stick and traced the course
of the river in the ashes--showing how the forest ran out in a
peninsula, and the river-bed lay round it in a wide loop, all
impassable for canoes. It seemed the only way was to land on the
opposite shore and cut across the forest, a matter of sixty miles,
perhaps, or, as Oo-koo-koo put it, "two sleeps" for the white brother;
he would have done it in shorter time, as the Indians carried up to
two hundred pounds by a "tump line" passed across their foreheads.Jim understood, and was not dismayed. They expected to be driven to porterage. By that little
diagram in the ashes he grasped the outlook, and the journey. He made
several suggestions that occurred to him, but the chief dismissed them
at once. It seemed there was but one way.After that Aivick took up the talking with the announcement that he
was a great hunter, and his tepee held many fine skins--mink, marten,
ermine, fox; he would give rare pelts for tobacco and tea; he was
ready to trade.Jim smiled engagingly, and explained that he did not want to trade
for skins; but because of the good heart he had towards his Indian
brothers--these great chiefs of the friendly Crees--he would give so
much tea and tobacco as a present.The two chiefs nodded. They were ready to accept what they could
get, while at the same time they shrewdly inferred two things--very
near the truth!--that Jim was on some mission unconnected with furs,
and that he wanted to gain the friendship of the Indians. Nobody gave
valuable goods away for nothing, in the opinion of the Crees,
therefore the inexperience of this party was patent to them also.Having got all they could, the three men departed, Oo-koo-koo
asserting that the hearts of the
Crees were very good towards this white brother. From first to last
the third Indian held what would be called in the law world a watching
brief. Only his glittering black eyes showed he was not asleep, and he
never spoke.When the forest had swallowed up this deputation the sisters came
out of their obscurity in a state of great excitement. At least Peter
was thrilled."Jim, did you see who that last man was? I wanted to tell you and I
couldn't. He looked about as friendly as he did when he was watching
the Log House. Now, can you guess? He was the Cree without an ear. Did
you see how he kept in the shade?""He knows where we come from, then," said Jim slowly."Indians are awfully tricky," remarked Peggy."Oh, well, he can't possibly know we're after that stuff of
Dad's. He can't.""Unless Gijik told them." Jim paused; then added, "But he
wouldn't. Gijik was a white man all round. I lay my last dollar on
that."The girls agreed warmly, for though the mystery of the two Indians
at Log House remained deep as ever, and was only equalled by the episode of Raa's loss and
return, yet they one and all had faith in the honesty of the
Cedar.It was when they were packing up for the dawn start next morning
that Peter, with one of her sudden flashes, reminded them that Raa
couldn't have been stolen by the one-eared Cree, because of his
behaviour the night before."Why, what about his behaviour?" asked Jim, pausing as he tied up a
well-packed bundle."He didn't mind the man really. When they all three came down he
objected. He always objects to strangers, or Indians; but when you
were talking he just lay quiet and watched them with his eyebrows
twitching, and when they went he watched them go, but he did not hate
any of them. If that Cree had stolen him and clubbed him Raa would
have told us fast enough. No, it wasn't that man." Peter laughed
cynically,Peggy was inclined to believe her, and Raa, yawning prodigiously,
stretched his muscles with healthy indifference. He was much his old
self again, but there would be little doubt about his memory supposing
they met his enemy.Hard work was now the order of the day. By canoe the travellers
went down as far as they dared. Probably Indians would have gone much nearer the falls, but these
three were not taking that risk with so full a load--and Raa. They
landed on the opposite shore at a likely spot, when the roar of the
water began to supersede all other sounds, and the current showed a
sort of fierce twist and swirl. Then they rested for an hour, divided
the loads, carrying them high on their shoulders, with a supporting
band across the forehead as Indians do."If only it was winter," said Peter, "we could have a sled and use
Raa, and get across this bit in no time. What a pity!""How can you, Pete?" Peggy was outraged. "Just think what a winter
trail is--""That's just what I'm doing," retorted the unrepentant one."Perhaps you'll get it, and then you'll be sorry you wished for
it.""Look here, we must mush on now," Jim reminded them as he
shouldered the long canoe. "It's a clear trail through these pines. We
can make good going, and only let up when we must take a
breather."It was good going indeed, the best they could have hoped for--miles
of pine forest, dazzling with its vistas of upright boles, over a
carpet of pine needles with wonderfully little undergrowth. Grand
going for a start, and the
sort of conditions they could not often hope for, as experience of the
home forest had taught them. Seemingly endless miles of trees and
tangled brushwood, rocks, ups and downs, terribly steep and difficult,
were all to be expected, so that this was all to the good, like their
wonderful run down the river."Luck is with us," said Peter, panting a little as she stopped for
a rest, propping her big pack against a tree to loosen the
headband."Don't brag," answered Peggy, "it's a bad plan; one never knows,"
as she did the same, panting less than her sister, because she took it
all as quietly as might be, while her sister could not help talking to
Raa and getting fun out of side issues.They travelled by compass, Jim leading, and were disappointed when
they found that they had made but eight or nine miles by the
evening. The calculation was Jim's, and fairly correct, no doubt. The
Owl had said the distance across, cutting the lake and the long round
with its falls and rapids, was "two sleeps." Indians travelled thirty
miles a day and more. The Lockharts felt very envious of these powers;
but of course it might not be really so much as sixty. Peter felt sure
it was not. When they made camp they were so tired and stiff with the
exercise of unaccustomed muscles
that they all slept like winter bears.Peggy was up first, staunchly fulfilling her duties in spite of
being stiffer than the night before."It will pass off," she declared as she mixed her flour busily. "We
ought to do twice as much to-day; we begin so much sooner."After a bit it was easier in a way. They were growing used to it,
and late in the afternoon they hit upon a track that looked as though
it had been used. The forest was thicker, and there was more
undergrowth, which showed up this queer trail to a certain
obviousness, as though it were a path.One behind the other they walked, falling silent as the day drew
on, not so much through weariness--though they had enough to make them
dead tired--as because of the gloom that began to settle over them,
making the dense, far-reaching woods dark as evening and close with a
certain oppression of heat.Presently Jim slid the long canoe off his shoulders and stretching
himself vigorously, remarked, "Thunderstorm!""I thought it was getting like that," Peggy allowed. "Never mind,
it will freshen us up and fill the streams. Let's camp when we come to
water.""Look at Raa," said Peter.Now the wind had shifted from its normal westerly position, and was
coming in spasmodic puffs from the east and north. As every one knows,
this is often the way of it in thundery weather, as the storms come up
against the prevailing breeze. The great dog was standing in the trail
facing east, his head raised and his lips curling back from the
murderous fangs, the bristles along his back were raised, and the
muscles of his strong body tense. He was sniffing the wind with a
wolf-like movement of his, and he looked as wicked as it was in the
nature of a wolf-dog to look."Scents something he doesn't like?" Peggy's eyes questioned
Jim."Raa!" Peter called him.The dog made a movement in answer, but did not turn his head."Mush," ordered Jim. "We can't stand here watching Raa. Let's make
camp before the storm comes."So they shouldered packs and took up the march. For nearly another
hour they plodded on, and then the welcome sound of a small stream
stopped them for the night. They had come on a first-class camping
ground, and with great satisfaction set about their work. Dense clumps
of banksian pine grew high enough to shield them from the weather, and forest trees of many kinds
met in a roof high above. Aside from the track but a yard or two
meandered the stream that had stopped them, its steepish, fern-grown
banks and inviting mossy slopes suggesting rest."Here," declared Peter firmly, and cast off her load. No one
contradicted.All three worked with vigour and cheerfulness, and very soon the
pan was bubbling on the little round fire. The smell of fried bacon
and rabbit cooking together promised an excellent supper, with tea and
scones left from the day before. The tarpaulin cleverly stretched made
complete shelter, and the party sat down to realize two things.First, that Raa was gone.Second, that darkness hedged them in with a warning of impending
storm of a pretty severe kind, and beyond the fire-shine they had no
light.With regard to the first, it was no more use going off to hunt Raa
than it would have been to seek for a bead off a moccasin in the
moss. The second would not interfere with them, they decided--the
storm would come and be over; they'd have a fresh forest for the
morning travel, and meanwhile sleep sound.So people settle things, and the fates overturn their
plans.The supper finished, all three rolled up in their blankets and went
to sleep at once. Then the thunder began, far away, with booming
echoes. Lightning shivered with a sort of spasmodic gleam, showing up
branches as though they were painted in Indian ink.Peter awoke. A full moon in a thunderstorm always affected her with
a sort of electric shock. First she lay and thought about the
dog. Then she sat up and stared at the forest when those flashes
came. Peter had never seen a cinema, and knew nothing of sensational
effects, but in all her body she felt the drama of the scene. When
silence fell between the thunder rumbles she heard intimate noises in
the woods--snappings of dead twigs and scurries of wild creatures
rather excited. Then came a white flash that quivered for seconds, and
Peter, looking towards the track passing the dip wherein lay the camp,
saw a giant black shape move along it. Something immense and awkward,
it seemed. Then the light went out, and the next flash showed
nothing.Thoroughly awake and disturbed over the weird vision she had seen,
Peter got up and stepped softly up on to the track. There she waited,
looking and listening. In a minute she heard an extraordinary noise--a
clatter of thudding feet, heavy stamping, and a strange, snoring grunt. Filled with excitement,
she sprang back into the camp and awakened the others. Peggy sat
up. Jim said it didn't matter what it was. After all, the forest was
full of creatures; some of them were fighting--they always would
fight. Seeing she could not arouse enthusiasm, Peter departed with
much dash, loosening her revolver and hunting-knife as she went, in
case of necessity.The alternate blackness and white light was baffling, but she
followed the trail forward, and in about twenty paces turned a bend
and came on a strange sight. A big cow moose, caught in a snare loop
that had been hung from a tree branch above the trail, was fighting
for her life and strangling fast. She had put her head through the
snare as she went along the track, and her struggles to escape were
choking her, which was, of course, exactly what the trappers
intended.At the side of the trail stood a moose calf, awkward and lumbering,
frightened and silly. It stared trembling at the fightings of its
mother when the white light showed up the scene."What a vile shame!" cried Peter to the forest, and in one instant
made up her decided mind. Up the tree she climbed with little
difficulty, flung herself out along the branch, and hanging over, knife in hand, cut through the
loop; which was clever, because, had she simply severed the cord above
the loop, the poor beast would have died before she could get down to
release it; and, moreover, it would not have been safe to try and
handle a dying moose.As it was, the animal fell with a crash and lay still
gasping. Peter came down the tree and, standing near the trunk for
safety, waited for the light to show her what was happening. When it
came, the old moose was on her legs, nosing the calf. She was very
shaky, and her bloodshot eyes stared strangely around. She was ready
to attack anything in defence of the calf, but terribly nervous. Then
she saw Peggy coming down the trail, and, turning, made off the way
she had been going, while the calf shambled at her side.Peter was excited and hot. "Of all the brutes!" and she explained
eagerly."I am glad you set the poor moose
free. Hurry, Pete, now. Here comes the rain. What thumping
drops!"CHAPTER
VIIITHE FORTUNE OF THE TRAILON the fourth day Raa came back. He joined the party in guilty
fashion, crawling towards them with his head low and an air of
cringing apology. His flank was seared by a gunshot that had made a scar and torn the skin. He
looked very battered too, but not more starved; there were plenty of
young rabbits in the woods. He appeared from the undergrowth during
the midday rest, and the three argued as to whence he'd come. The
mysterious part was the gunshot wound--none of them had heard a
report. But, argue as you like, it was not possible to come to a
conclusion, and the trail was so strenuous that last day that no one
had energy to waste!In this way. The forest became so much denser that the travellers
were forced to cut a passage for the canoe. If ever you come to a
winding tunnel about three feet from the ground, when you are on the trail through forests of the
north-west, you will know that a canoe has been carried through It is
a fairly arduous task, but the only way to make it.Jim had to bend over the saplings and young branches, and crack the
bend with the little sharp axe. After a bit the job became easier; the
two girls followed on with their packs, finding this queer tunnel a
great easement of their labour. When they camped for the night they
were more tired than they had been any day since the land trail
started, but very joyous because of Raa."You must expect a dog to go off hunting on his own--a wild dog in
the forests," said Peggy."Looks as if he'd been hunted," suggested Peter, who was lying
quite flat staring up into the trees, resting her tired muscles. "If I
had any extra energy I'd go river hunting," went on Peter. Then she
sat up suddenly and sniffed with her head raised high and nostrils
moving. "I swear I smell river," she declared.Jim grunted. He didn't think they could have got through yet.Peggy suggested that the peninsula was not so wide as Oo-koo-koo
thought. "Indians measure by
'sleeps,'" she reminded them. "I don't see how it can be
accurate.""All the same they know," Jim said. "We haven't done badly." He was
never lavish in praise of the girls' achievements, taking them for
granted very much as though his sisters had been men "pardners."Though Peter could not make up her mind to go "river hunting" that
night, she stole out of camp before dawn, keen to bring back news for
the breakfast and start. The dog followed her, and she followed her
nose, an instinct of scent and feel in the
air. As she went she blazed her trail in case of accident. Just a
broken twig, a chip of bark, a leaf displaced--any Indian would have
seen in this a highway! A well-trained girl Scout might have followed
it up also, but the average person would have seen nothing whatever,
it was so slight, and these indications were far apart, as Peter knew
she could find each one again.She was right, and proved it joyously when the river noise was
added to the river smell, and the mist that clings to its shores
before sunrise grew thicker. About a mile from the camp she came out
suddenly on the bank, and her first look was forward--on the coming
trail, to see what it would be and what it promised. It is more rocky
here than back above the
falls. Rapids would be probable, for the water looked shallow and
pebble-bottomed. That she took in with the first glance. Then, looking
ahead, saw something startling and very arresting.On a rock that jutted over the stream stood a figure. Because of
the mist it looked big and mysterious. Perfectly motionless and gazing
away down the next bend of the river it waited--watching. Outlined
against the open, and not much more than thirty paces distant from
her, Peter had a clear view.She melted back into the brushwood and stayed--quiet as this
Indian. Her feet made no sound with their trained forest tread, and
the water sounds filled the air; but the breeze blew from her to him,
and well she knew Indian powers!Like a statue he remained for full two minutes, listening
apparently. Then, with the sort of muscle-loose movement that recalls
the way a wild animal shifts its position, he disappeared into the
brushwood behind.Peter still crouched in hiding, listening, but she heard nothing
whatever. This odd incident passed so quickly that she had forgotten
the dog. When she looked round for him he was not in sight, but joined
her on the way back to camp, slipping silently through the undergrowth just like a wolf, every
little while standing with head up and lips curling in a snarl as he
looked back over his shoulder.Peter carried the good news of the open river road into camp with
triumph. "It's good enough sure," she
declared. "If it should be very shallow we can wade and haul the canoe
over the bad places. Anyway, no more forest trail at present." Then
she told about the Indian on the rock. "It was the Cree," she
said."Which Cree? Do you mean the Owl?" asked Jim."N-o-o-o" drawled Peter, prolonging her negative as she helped
herself to rabbit from the frying-pan; "I mean our Cree--with one ear.""Don't call him 'our' Cree," Peggy remarked. "I don't believe in
his good intentions. What's he here for--trailing us? He must be trailing us--who else is there to
trail?""Besides," asserted Jim firmly, "he shot Raa. Sure he shot Raa, and I bet he stole him in the
first place. He poisoned old Neumann's huskies, and my opinion is that
he caught Raa to sell him to Neumann. Just what
a low-down neche would do--don't you see?
Indians are sharp as thorns. They see a notion like that a lot quicker than we should. Kill the
trappers' dogs, and sell him Raa at a top figure. It doesn't matter to
the Indian if Raa gets away after Neumann has handed over the dollar
bills. Why should it? Raa was trailing him right enough when he left
us, and got a gun pulled on him for his pains! Well, we shall have to
keep our eyes skinned, and that's a sure thing."It was not often that Jim gave voice to such a settled
opinion. When he did, it was deeply rooted! Peter saw the uselessness
of argument. Even Peggy was carried along by this idea, though she
said, as she cleaned the pan and collected goods neatly,--"I don't see why he doesn't come and finish us off. What can he
want, dust following?""Indians want all you've got," said Jim. "What about our
automatics, for instance? The tarpaulin, an A1 canoe, the rifle and
ammunition--we are worth anything you like to them. But you can't tell
what his plan is. Probably he's afraid of our guns, and knows his old
trade muzzle-loader is only warranted to hit at ten yards--not that,
perhaps.""He can hit. He shot Raa, we know," said
Peggy."We don't know," muttered Peter obstinately. "Raa wouldn't let him
get that near."But neither of the others attended to her opinion. They had decided
how the matter stood, and of course it was only one of Peter's
"feelings." Besides, there was a lot too much to do for
discussion. The thought of the river again was a grand uplift to their
spirits, and there was not time to worry even about the one-eared
Cree!Soon after sunrise the canoe was in the water again, and triumph
swelled the hearts of the three on this strange trail, triumph almost
as great as though they had conquered all risks and got back with the
treasure. With the stream they went, sometimes in water so shallow
that they waded, guiding their boat with caution Then presently, when
it was deeper, they would get in, but with wet feet hanging over on
either side, because of the drippings! That meant a change of
stockings when the rest came, and a careful drying of moccasins--not
too near the fire, because leather shrinks.All three were extraordinarily happy; they were so well, and
getting on so fast. Hundreds of miles had they come already, and
though they knew what the journey back must be--against the stream, up
the rapids, every obstacle enhanced, too, because of the weight they
would have to carry--yet the buoyancy of their spirits and the splendid healthiness of this great
life made them inclined to laugh at the prospect. It was sure to be
all right! Luck was with them--had been from the first, said they.The glory of the woods and the colours, the power of the river and
its help, the fact that every day took them many miles forward and
nearer their aim--all was so splendidly cheerful.Walking in water, bruising your feet and shins on slippery rocks,
being held up at times by waterfalls impossible to negotiate, so that
you had to land and haul canoe and pack for a mile or two along most
difficult shores--all came in the day's work. No one ever
grumbled.In the beginning of June, when the Wild was in perfection, they
came to Deer Lake, lovely beyond description, perhaps a hundred miles
long and some twenty wide, its shores the home of many Indian tribes
as well as forest creatures.Up the western shore they went, camping for rests, day, and of
course night, and making fine progress. They met with Indians, but it
was a passing acquaintance, concluding amicably with a small present
of tea or tobacco. They met old Salt Brydon, who had been a pal of
Dick Hearne long years since, and his "pardner" Olaf Sorenson, the big Swede; they were not coming
down to the settlements as far south as Cumberland House, but held
their pelts for the visit of the trader Mr. McAndrew, who went right
up to the Great Bear Lake, almost as far again as Great Slave Lake,
calling at the districts and the Forts for the winter's output.Men like old Salt Brydon had no use for the gaieties of
settlements. The summer up north with the fishing and hunting was far
more worth while to them.Of course, they wanted to know what drew the young Lockharts thus
far on the long trail, and appeared to be satisfied with the answer
that, hearing their father was dead, they'd come up to learn all
details, the truth of rumour, and to collect his possessions."I'm always glad it's true, every word,"
said Peggy, when they decided in conclave what they should say."They must have heard things," Peter suggested--"must; I wonder
what they all know."Suddenly Peggy had a disquieting thought. "Jim, do you think some
of the men will have found out the whole secret, and dug up Dad's
treasure? He might have been watched."Jim shook his head, saying he depended on Gijik. He was sure the Ojibway believed the secret
was still a secret, nor could he be deceived. "He's sure too cute,"
declared Jim.So the cloud passed, and so did the days, bringing the canoe and
its strong, brown crew farther and farther north.It was on the shore of Lake Wollaston, the smaller water north of
Deer Lake, that they had a quaint experience. Not dangerous, as things
were in this glorious summer world, but just a vision of what winter
dangers might be.You must remember they had come into the land of the wolf-folk,
rarely seen round the Log House except when driven so far by
desperation. From Deer Lake northwards it is a very different matter,
while farthest north you can meet the great white Polar bear, the most
horribly dangerous foe of all, except, perhaps, the giant grizzly.Where the caribou herds are, there also are to be found the hunting
animals, of course; and amongst these the wolves are the strongest and
most relentless.There had been a thunderstorm and the woods were wet, drenched by
the downpour and a little chilly; the camp fire glowed cheerfully, and
the supper was warm and welcome. The three travellers fell asleep at
once in the shelter of the tarpaulin, for the days of wakefulness and listening were long
past; they were so used to the life that the work of days and sleep
of nights followed mechanically now.But on this night, when they were destined to get a new glimpse of
the Wild, Raa roused them by low snarls of a most venomous kind, and
by shifting his own place to come crawling to the feet of the
sleepers, eliciting first abuse and then attention.Peter, as usual, sat up first, and then, not as usual, remained
motionless, staring at the strange sight that was gradually impressed
on her mind.On the opposite side of the fire, seated on their haunches in a
semi-circle, were seven wolves, large, grey, and rough, with rather
tall, pointed ears, and--this was what struck to the heart of
Peter--all the seven mouths stretched in the kind of smile that dogs
have when amused and comfortable. Their tongues were hanging out, and
they all breathed in a soft, panting way as they gazed at the fire,
blinking lazily.When Peter sat up they looked at her, and all the eyes--slanting
up a little at the corners--watched her alertly. There was a green
shine in the eyes. Raa had that to a certain extent--not the sort of
shine you would care to see supposing you had made camp in winter
with the thermometer fifty
below zero, and no food anywhere except in your own pack!Without moving much, Peter pinched Peggy, who was next her, and was
answered by a whispered,--"I see.""Aren't they sweet loves?" murmured Peter
fatuously."Well, of all the--" This from Jim, with amazed contempt in his
voice. "Sweet loves! Wolves!""You know what I mean," protested Peter, holding her
ground. "They're all laughing, and they're not a bit shy.""You'd be jolly shy if they were hungry!" retorted her
brother. "Look at old Raa--he doesn't call them 'sweet loves'! Of all
the devils you can meet in the forest a wolf takes the prize, unless a
lynx is worse.""A lynx is much worse," declared the girl. "A lynx will tear you
summer or winter just for the sake of wickedness and spite, but look
at these! Quite friendly."She had raised her voice and moved more freely as she argued. Now
she threw wood on the fire, which had the effect of making the wolves
shift and draw hack. It really was wonderful to watch them, they were
so utterly noiseless and agile--like shadows almost. Theyweaved one past another, pushing a
little and giving each other nips that made teeth click like metal;
they then sat down again rather farther off and continued their
curious watch.Partly curiosity and partly the natural pleasure of the warmth
where all about was wet had brought them there. They did not lie down,
all the same, but sat all the while, and at the turn of the night,
towards the very early dawn, they melted away like the shadows they
had seemed."One could imagine one had dreamed them," said Peter. "I wonder
what would have happened if I could have patted one of them?""You'd have lost your hand," Jim told her. "Hearne says they can
bite a hand off like a machine cutting--awful strong brutes."Afterwards, before this astonishing trail was accomplished, Peter
recalled that night and the smiling jaws of the green-eyed
visitors. She didn't call them "sweet loves" then; she experienced to
the full what a wolf is, and why the howl on a winter night can strike
such terror into the bravest heart.Only one mischance of a really tiresome nature occurred on the way
up north, and that was on this same Lake Wollaston. The weather had
been almost perfect from the time they left Log House till nearly the
end of June. Then one day the
wind was stronger than usual, and the lake hit up into a flurry of
waves.It was a favourable wind, so they held on, paddling with renewed
energy and satisfaction. If this helped them, they decided, it was
better to go ahead in spite of the risk of swamping. Water came
inboard, they were all drenched with spray, but they made it. They got
out of Wollaston and into the zigzag river that forms the link between
the lower lake and the long--very long--and beautiful lake of
Athabasca, with its exquisite shores, wooded and hilly. In the stream,
then, they found shelter from the wind, but an unfavourable tide. The
drift of the water was against them and out to the lake, which fed
Fish River, running into the sea of Hudson Bay about three hundred
miles to the eastward.A long way they made in spite of that, and camped on these new
shores rather later than usual. They fished, made camp, carrying most
of the pack ashore, and after supper slept sounder than they had ever
done before--which is saying a good deal; but they were very
tired.At dawn the canoe was gone!Gone, drifted back to Wollaston Lake, probably, and blown anywhere
by the stiff wind! Indeed, more than likely swamped.It was by far the most serious misfortune that could have happened,
because it meant taking the trail on foot unless they could make
another canoe with the very limited tools at their command--the axe
and three knives.For the first time between the three travellers arose a hot
disagreement as to the best course of action. Peter reasoned that the
canoe could not have drifted far in spite of the stream. Was not the
wind against it? There was more than a chance that it was caught up on
a bend of the winding river. If they followed back on the trail they
might find it on this--the western bank. If on the opposite shore, Jim
could swim over for it.Jim was obstinately against this plan. He declared that to take the
trail back was sheer loss of precious time. Far better make a camp
where they stood, and set to work at once on a new canoe. It would of
necessity be rough, and the wood unseasoned. He groaned at the memory
of the lost craft; they had taken such pains to make it good. But
there!--what must be, must.You see there was a very dark cloud over Jim's cheerful outlook. He
was the person who tied up the canoe, and he could not remember for
the life of him exactly how he had done it. He thought it was a really
strong hitch. He was so
careful at the time. He felt certain he had been careful, as he never
forgot the importance of the canoe. And yet it was gone, and he felt
uneasily that even Peggy believed the loss to be his fault. Neither of
them said so, of course, but there was something comforting and
sympathetic in Pegtop's manner that made him feel savage.She was doing her steady best, as always, keeping the peace between
eager Peter and irritated Jim, trying to suggest that after all it
didn't matter so very much; the summer was long, they'd months before
them.Finally, and owing to Peggy, they compromised, Jim agreeing to go
back on the river trail as far as the lake. Then, if no canoe was
visible, they must return to this camp and set to work at once.Travelling "light"--that is to say, with the least possible pack
just blankets, pemmican, tea, ammunition, a saucepan and cups--they
started back by the shore. The trail was rough and rocky, cumbered
with growth of briar and slippery with wet moss on stones. They rested
at midday, silent and depressed, ate pemmican, drank tea, and went on
again till dusk. No canoe was to be seen.Rolled in their blankets they slept, started again before dawn, and
went on. During the morning
Peter roused to cheerfulness again. She felt so sure it would all turn
out well. Raa, being hungry, chased rabbits, also caught them. The sun
shone; chickadees, excited by these unusual presences, sang their
loudest, and fish jumped in the sparkling water. All was gay and
beautiful; but when they camped late where the river burst into Lake
Wollaston there was no sign of the lost canoe, the breeze was still
stiff, and the surface of the lake flecked with white caps.CHAPTER
IXA SONG IN THE WILDERNESSPETER kept to her bond. Much as she wanted to go on round the lake
shore, reason pointed to the foolishness of it, and she had promised
Jim to go back. No getting out of it; but it was a terribly depressing
journey back again over the same trail.At night when they made camp the only one of the three not
despondent was Peggy, who worked away at cheering the others--she and
Raa, for the old dog was restless and eager about something, not
rabbits apparently. Before they turned into blankets the girl went
down to the water's edge, and stood there watching the moon--the big
yellow summer moon--rise behind the forest, so that branches seemed
painted on its surface, and the broken light began to pick out rocks
and moss in the river bank.Motionless Peggy stood and heard a sound on the wind from the lake; there was something
rollicking and joyous in the sound, though no words were audible. Then
the other two came from the fire and joined her. They all listened,
and in a minute Peter began humming the wild, strong tune under her
breath."Oh, ze cariboo-oo-oo, ze
cariboo-oo-oo;He roas' on highJes' under ze sky,Ze beeg white cariboo-oo-oo!""You know," she said, "it's the cariboo song that Dad told us the
men sing down in the settlements when the Company roasts caribou whole
for the gangs of hunters. Wonder who it is. He seems a very jolly
man--fancy singing like that all alone in the forest!"She began whistling the tune in company, clear as a wood wren; and
presently the singer heard her response, for the song stopped, and a
voice called, "Hullo! Hullo-o-o!" soft and high like an echo; then it
ceased, and into the moon-path swept an Indian canoe, paddled by one
man with the strongest, swiftest strokes, and towing behind a second
canoe empty.The paddles turned inshore by the side of a water-swept finger of
sand. Jim and Peter sprang down to help; there was a meeting on the
spit, a busy minute, and the three walked up together towards Peggy, who was standing in the
moonlight with eyes shining and yellow curls looking like spun
silver."La--la--la," murmured this gay traveller, shrugging aside the
profuse thanks of the others. "Et puis--she is
yours. I saw her las' night on the lake, and make to catch her, but
she refuse. Then it is done, and I bring her--la
voilà." He laughed. "It is nothing. Eh? All in the good
turn; you would do it for me too, is it not?" He was gazing at Peggy,
who nodded vigorously, her eyes shining with gratitude. And who would
not be grateful when all trouble was brushed away like a cobweb!"Oh," said Peggy, "oh, we have had a bad time, and you've saved our
poor canoe.""Poor little canoe," echoed the rescuer, and laughed again.They were all very friendly at once; there was no ice to break, as
it were, and no suspicions to lull. Pierre Corraine was a hunter and
trapper, a French Canadian, born and bred in the forests. In person he
was not very tall, but well-built, and just as wiry and agile as a
catamount--the name he gave to the big wild-cat of the woods. His
black eyes danced with gaiety and shrewd intelligence, and instantly,
though they hardly knew it, he began to influence the three Lockharts, while Raa
accepted him at once without so much as a snarl."And this canoe?" he asked as they all sat round the little
fire. "How did she make a get-away, hey? You shall tell me, then I
shall tell you one strange thing."The girls looked at Jim, who admitted with shame that he must have
tied her up with a fool knot. How he came to do such a thing was
unexplainable; but they'd had a hard day and were late in making
camp. He hated saying this, because it sounded as though he were a
"tender-foot"--chechaquo, as they call it on
the Yukon trail. But he felt bound to admit now that it must have been
his fault.Corraine watched Jim as he spoke. He considered silently, smoking
the while; then, as though it helped his thoughts, he sang rather low
and drearily a queer little song:--"Out of the hills comes a little white
deer--Poor little vaurien, o, ci, ci!Come to my home, to my home down here,Sister and brother and child of me,Poor little, poor little vaurien!"He sang it in such a way that tears came into Peggy's eyes because
of the gentleness of it; then, breaking off, he said,--"And that is how you feel, Jeem, that your knot was a fool knot!
Come, then, and I will show you something deeferent."Jim followed him to the canoe, and the painter rope was put into
his hand--the rope with which it had been tied up so securely. The end
was cut through, frayed!Then Peter burst out: "I thought it was very short when we pulled
it inshore just now. Why, Peggy, some one cut the knot through,
instead of--Well!""It was my fault anyway," Jim declared. "It was up to us to land
her and turn her over. We do most times, but we were in a hurry, so we
left the best part of the pack inboard--extra stores, grub-stake to
fall back on, see, and tied her up to the bank.""I wonder Raa didn't speak," said Peggy."You bet Raa was hunting on his own," Peter told her. "We'd so
little grub ashore, and we didn't fish; pemmican is poor feed to Raa
when there's a world of rabbits around. Now we've got to the bottom of
it. We all were dead asleep, and the enemy came along to the bank but
never landed just hacked through Jim's knot--""Enemy!" echoed Peggy. "What enemy have we?""I told you, the Cree," said Jim, very positive. "For some reason known to himself he's got a
down on us. You bet he stole Raa and tried to shoot him
afterwards. He's been tracking us all along."Corraine listened to this, his alert gaze on the three faces as
they all sat down by the fire again. He was humming
"Out of the hills comes a little white deer--" under his
breath. Then he broke off and said--"So he steal Raa, that Cree, hey? What for?--to make of him sled
dog? And pull gun on him after--some hate, hey? Qu'il s'amuse of your dog, this Cree.""I say it's not the Cree at all"--Peter began; and then stopped,
getting very pink, because she felt it was foolish to deny when she
had no other suggestion to make, no one else to accuse. She minded
this before Corraine; it was different from jumping at a notion with
her own family--they understood her way of seeing things.Perhaps Pierre did too. He considered her with his very intelligent
eyes, but said no more. Presently they all rolled up in their blankets
and went to sleep, taking the precaution of leashing Raa with a string
of raw hide; he was too obedient to bite it through.But no enemy came, which is usually the way when you prepare for
them!That meeting with Corraine was the turning over of a fresh leaf in
the story of the trail. He had been born and bred in the forests, and
knew the rivers like roads. He taught them things that helped, because
all three were so ready to learn and recognize the benefit of his long
experience. To them Pierre was rather old; as a matter of fact he was
not yet forty, and for gaiety of nature might have been fourteen.They four went on in company, because the hunter was bound for Fort
Chippewyan, at the junction where the Slave River falls into Athabasca
Lake. He was a man chosen for special missions and the portage of
dispatches from settlements in the south. The long trail was his life
and happiness, and the forests were his home.The young Lockharts soon found that he asked no questions of
them. If he was surprised he made no sign. Much as they liked him,
they agreed together at first to keep their own counsel; yet during
that journey from end to end of the long lake, camping on its shores
and stopping to fish--you will understand it was two hundred miles
more or less--there was time for the barrier to break down, and in
spite of prearranged caution it did to a certain extent.Pierre Corraine learned whither they were bound, and that they had
undertaken this terrific journey to fetch home certain things
belonging to their dead father; but what those things were he was not
told. Peter was for letting him into complete confidence. She was sure
he was a true friend. Peggy agreed with her in the second feeling, but
thought that it was just as well to keep to their first decision, that
no chance acquaintance on the way was to be let into the secret. "As
we settled that, let's keep to it," said Peggy.Jim said he didn't see the use of taking a tremendous liking for a
man you knew nothing about, and an equally decided dislike for a man
you knew no harm of--"like old Neumann, for instance," he added. "It
seems to me if you want to be sensible you'd best have a reason for
what you do."That was so like Jim, and Peggy agreed with him, of course, much as
she liked Pierre and his songs. But Peter shrugged her lean, square
shoulders almost fiercely."What does God give us instincts for if we mayn't use them?" she
demanded. "Dogs know whom they may trust. You believe them,
Jim--though all the same I'm not sure whether you'd believe Raa if he
hated Neumann. Why do you like that man?""Well, he was a friend of Dad's. He never let any one down that I
heard of. He didn't poison his own dogs, sure, and when he got so hot
on old Raa he was pretty well out of his head with worry to get on.""He stole Raa and ill-treated him," cried Peter tempestuously."The man who poisoned the dogs stole Raa, you bet," retorted
Jim. "Just what a Cree would do, knowing the chap would give most
anything for a strong sled dog. Neumann may have bought Raa. I can't
say for that--"Here Peggy would interfere, and say what was the use of wasting
breath in argument, and the subject would be changed; but those two
opinions always remained as fixed as the woods and hills. Pierre knew
nothing about all this, or, if he sensed any disagreement, he did not
betray his knowledge, but just helped on the work of the trail with
his lifelong experience of the North.Presently they crossed to the northern shore. In the best of
spirits and in lovely weather, they landed to make camp. There was
great rejoicing between the sisters, because they felt so near the end
of the journey. Only that length of Slave River, and across Slave
Lake, and they had done it!The curious part was that in all their minds getting there seemed all. Getting back they did
not discuss or appear to consider much. It would happen, they
felt.And just at this cheerful climax something broke the monotonous
success of the daily trail.Corraine and Peggy went into the woods to collect dead sticks for
the night. They went a good distance, because Peggy always wanted to
see what was beyond the next rise or ridge, and whether there was an
open valley outside the densest forest. The wild creatures were scarey
in this part. Pierre said it was owing to the proximity of the
Forts--Chippewyan was not more than fifty miles to the west of
them. There was more coming and going--that is to say, comparatively
so, when you think of such amazing distances, and thirty miles is a
day's trail."I have the feeling of men--eh, Mees Peggy?" Pierre said, and he
stopped still as a deer that "suspicions" human presence. "But there,
what would you?""How do you mean 'feeling' men? Raa is like that, but we have no
gift," said Peggy, watching his brown face, which was like a hawk's
about the brow and eyes. He seemed to see and hear what she could
not."You do not--no. That is deeferent. The woods are to me full of news--of message. Men there are,
I feel, and there is something--"It was in Peggy's mind that Corraine was not happy about this
"something," but he did not explain. The walk lengthened out, and soft
twilight made shadows. Peggy did not mind. She was glad to walk after
the hours of paddling, and it seemed as though the man wanted to find
what he felt but could not see.They were climbing a steep rise, thickly wooded, and presently came
to the top. From the other side the ground dropped like a cliff, and
in the bottom was a gulch, a cleft valley between that cliff and one
on the opposite side, which was also steep and rather thickly clothed
with banksian pine. It was a lovely place, and the more so because the
valley lay from west to east, so that the last light dipped into its
sheltered greenness.Peggy sat down, just to look and revel in the beauty. She could see
a winding silvery stream down in the bottom, and presently made out
the shape of a man, then another man. They were camping down there on
the mossy bank of the stream. Quite a perfect place, thought the girl,
and said so to Corraine as she pointed out the two figures. He did not
answer, and then she saw that he was watching these campers with eyes that saw much more than she
saw. His expression had changed to something tense and stern. Then he
put out his hand, the strong, nervous brown hand that was
characteristic of him and his swift way of acting, and drew the girl
into shelter against a mass of undergrowth."Bien," he said, speaking low. "It is the
light from that side we shall avoid." Then he lay down flat on his
face and waited."What is it?" Peggy whispered, taking her tone from his."It ees not good," Pierre answered. "The poor Indian would say
these men have bad heart. Hein--that is
true. God made the north, and it is very beautiful; then come the bad
heart and trouble.""Not all bad hearts, Pierre," said Peggy in a grieved voice."No, the angel as well--so," and the man smiled at her. To him she
was very like an angel, with her kind grey-blue eyes and lovely
corn-coloured hair. Besides these things she was sweet in her steady
unselfishness and wisdom. Full of common sense was Peggy.She was just going to answer him when something caught her eyes on
the opposite cliff. Up till now she had been watching the gulch and
the men down below. Then, quite suddenly, she noticed a movement, something passed from one clump
of bush to another--it might have been a puma, though they were rare
so far from the Rockies; hardly a deer, because it seemed to
crawl. The girl made a movement to attract Corraine's attention, and
then grasped on the instant that he already saw. Surely little escaped
him."Indian," he answered her eyes. "Cree. He watch that camp. For no
good neither. Allons! There you have the soul of this forest
people. To forget the kind act--never. To forget the evil--not while
life is in them. Perhaps you will say that is the pity, but"--he threw
out his hands, palms upwards, and shrugged--"but it is the
Indian.""Do you think he means to kill these men in the camp then?" asked
Peggy, looking down into the gulch with strained eyes. "Sure, we ought
to warn them.""No; I think, Mees Peggy, it is not the beesness of les autres. This Cree, then, he have only the trade
gun. If he is fine shot he may kill at ten paces! Voilà--he wait and wait, but he cannot come
near. These men of bad heart they can care for themself. Bien, let them care; we
shall not make the mix-up. Come then; let us go."So they went, and saw no more of the little camp down in the gulch, and the Indian prowling like
a puma. Peggy was disturbed about it all, and troubled because this
kind-hearted woodsman seemed cynical. When they got back under the
shine of the big stars she told Peter and Jim.The latter said, "That's the kind of chap those Crees are." But
Peter stoutly declared that if those campers had played a low-down
trick on the Indian, he'd a perfect right to shoot them if he
could.Pierre Corraine smiled at her so that his white teeth
laughed. "Aha, Mees Pete," he said, "then you mus' give this poor
Indian the better gun.""So I would if I got the chance," declared Peter, which made Jim
look rather glum. He had a strong sense of how sisters should behave
and speak. Peggy came up to the ideal. Peter was inclined to jump over
all bounds. Much as he admired her, he wished she wouldn't "show off,"
as he called it.The next day Pierre Corraine left them to turn aside on his mission
to the Fort. He'd been a stand-by in helping them forward; not that
Jim thought so much of it as the others. After all they'd got on so
far by themselves, he thought, but certainly Pierre had found the
canoe and brought her to them. The girls thanked him again and again for that good turn; Peter's
mind pictured the delay and the distress vividly."We can't thank you enough--how could we?" she said. "We shall
always remember.""An' will you please always to remember that your rope is cut, Mees Pete?" said Pierre, with something grave
in his manner. "This canoe does not slip; she is cut away. Some one,
then, had made a mischeef, eh? Then it is very well to take care.""It's that Cree, I expect," said Jim, who was astonishingly
persistent when he got an idea really fixed."Aha! This Cree, you think?" Corraine's eyes narrowed into
slits."I expect. Same Indian who was trailing those other fellows, like
as not. Regular bad neche. Perhaps he's got a
down on white folk all round. Old Hearne says they have,
sometimes."Peggy and Peter looked at each other. There was truth in this
notion of Jim's. An Indian would follow up a feud like that. If he'd
been injured by whites he might, in return, try to injure all
whites.Later on Pierre Corraine departed into the morning mist, and the
sisters felt a loss, much more than Jim did, naturally; for much
as the youngest member of
the party liked and admired this capable woodsman, he "didn't see why
they three shouldn't get on just as well without a stranger." In other
words, Jim was the least bit jealous, which was plain to the
observation of the girls.But one could not feel despondent in these glorious places with
summer smiling on them, and each hour bringing something new and
interesting. Slave River was wild and grand beyond anything they had
seen yet, and on the first night they had to land with a view to
porterage by the shore, because they dared not attempt the rush of
rapids through canons with cliffs like the walls of a well, so smooth
and precipitous were they. It meant stiff work, but they had done it
before they came to Deer Lake, and could again. As Peter said, "they'd
grown a good deal" since those early days.All next day and the next they carried packs and canoe up and up
and over the barriers, climbing and resting, and putting out more
exertion perhaps than ever before. Nobody minded--were they not
getting on? But all were glad when, in the evening, they began to go
down and down through more open woods into a gulch through which a
creek entered the big river. The rapids had been passed, the shores opened up less
forbidding, and here the three were coming down into the beautifully
sheltered outlet of some smaller stream."Everything we want," murmured Peggy, slipping her pack and sitting
down on a fallen tree-trunk. "Water, wood, moss, pine needles, and
balsam boughs! Lovely beds, lovely smells, and the big river waiting
to take us on. How lucky we always are!" Then she paused, and from
that height considered the trend of the gulch, the direction of this
forest stream, and the lay of the land generally. As she looked she
frowned the least bit, for was not this the actual outlet of the
valley she and Pierre had hit on when they went so far looking for
wood? There was a narrow stream, between high green walls--surely."Why do you look bothered all in a moment, Pegtop?" asked Peter,
whose observing eye had detected the sudden frown of anxiety. "You
said how lucky we are, and then you looked as though you'd put your
foot through an ice-hole.""Oh no--did I? I suppose I just thought of something," said Peggy,
getting up again and settling her tump line; and they all went on down
to the creek mouth and the comfort of this ideal
camping-place.CHAPTER
XTERRORS OF THE GULCH"AND even suppose," thought Peggy, "that this is the same gulch, it
doesn't follow we shall come across those men." But she felt the least
bit cold when she remembered the panther-like shape of the persistent
Cree crawling nearer to the men he hated--the men who had "bad
hearts," as Pierre had said.These thoughts would recur, but did not interfere with work. They
made camp, they fished, they cooked by the little round fire, with the
canoe turned over on the bank close at hand, and a grand feeling of
completeness in arrangements. Then--"Look at Raa," Peter called. "He's been like that ever since we
struck this creek--going round and round hunting up a trail; and just
see his hackles!""Bear," said Jim briefly. His mouth was full, and he was enjoying
his supper."Yes," agreed Peggy rather eagerly. "sure to be lots of bears
coming down here." Then she called the dog and gave him his supper of
fish, which he bolted and then lay down nose on paws, his lip just
lifted over white fangs and eyebrows twitching over eyes that seemed
shot with red sparks.They sat on round the fire enjoying their ease, when suddenly Raa
sprang up and ran. He ran like a wolf, swift and silent, nose to the
ground and tail drooping, and he went up the gulch."That's the worst of wolf-dogs," said Jim."I don't see there's any 'worst' about it," retorted Peter,
defending the beloved one instantly. "You wouldn't like Raa to be a
sort of sheep, would you?"They laughed, but the laugh was cut short by a horrid noise from
the twilight shadows in the peaceful valley at the back. The sort of
noise you hear in big camps and settlements where many men and dogs
come together--that is, rough cursing, blows, and the furious snarl of
a maddened beast. The three jumped to their feet, and Peter went off
like a streak, with Jim after, calling her to come back. Peggy sat
down again."Oh dear," she said out loud; "what a horrible bother!" Then she
remained motionless, listening
and looking after the others into the shadows of the wood.Presently appeared figures coming down the gulch--Peter with her
belt passed through Raa's collar, talking to him obviously, and
coaxing against his resistance; behind, three men, one in front with
Jim, another behind. They were carrying guns and lightish packs--just
rolled blankets and necessaries. Peter came up swiftly to the fire and
stood over her sister."Pegtop, it's about the worst that could have come on us. That
brute Neumann--look what they've done to Raa! Nearly bashed his eye
out with a gun stock! Wonder he isn't dead! Wish to goodness old Jim
would see. He can't; there he is as close as
wax with both of them, and believing all their lies. Why, any one can
see through them both. La Perle is a liar and a cheat, and Neumann's
everything bad you can think of."Peggy put on the pan full of water. "Wait a moment; I'll bathe his
face," she said. "Poor old Raa! What a shame!""Shame! And please remember this is only the beginning of trouble."
Peter positively threw this bitter prophecy at her sister. She thought
Peggy could not realize, or she would not be so quiet, not knowing
that haunting dread in her sister's mind."I wish we had Pierre here," said Peggy.Then the others came up, talking.Jim was a little excited for him, and there was no doubt but that
he welcomed the coming of these trappers, whom he called "old
friends." He offered them tea, tobacco, bacon. The three had been so
sparing of these articles that there was even some of the last
left."Queer stroke of luck, eh?" he said to Peggy, his honest eyes
smiling with satisfaction. "Fancy Neumann and La Perle turning
up. Last time we met was at home! Seems awfully rum chance, doesn't
it? They're on their way to the district on Slave River--and I say,
Peg, they'll trail along with us. It'll be grand company. Neumann says
they've got a canoe cached hereabouts, and he says there's a shack way
up this river with stores enough to set us up! I call that a fine
notion. If we hadn't come here and made camp on this creek we'd have
missed our luck."Peter was so speechless with fury that Peggy had to come to the
rescue, which she did with her peculiar power of self-possession."I don't see how we can take the trail in company when Raa's turned
nasty. What's he got such a hunch against Mr. Neumann for? He's not
savage."Peter whispered under her breath, "Good for you, Pegtop," and gently clapped her hands
together.Peggy took no notice. She was washing Raa's eye, and there was an
icy ring in her soft voice. "Poor boy!" she said. "Poor old lad!""It was his own fault, Peg," explained Jim. "They had to defend
themselves, or he'd have torn Neumann's throat out. He went for it.""Why?" Peter's demand came short and sharp.Instantly Neumann proceeded to explain, with almost exaggerated
good-fellowship and honesty. "Well, Miss Peter, it amounts to this--a
low-down neche, who was prowling around and
sure poisoned my huskies at the Log House, stole the dog and brought
him along on our trail. As you know, I was hard up for a team; our
dogs were about tuckered out--what was left of them. Well, I don't
pretend I didn't give him a round sum for the brute. I offered Mis'
Lockhart four hundred. I was straight enough. When that Indian came
around with the offer I didn't start back on the trail to give you the
dog, because I was in a hurry with that load of pelts. I went on and
did good business. Afterwards the dog got free and it seems he trailed
you. Well, let me tell you he was a sight of trouble. Dangerous he was; you couldn't touch him,
neither me nor Louis--could we?" he appealed to La Perle, who made an
expressive gesture of despair, while his sharp, squirrel-like eyes
watched the faces of the girls."Aha, that Raa--he is a wolf, la!""You mean you both beat him?" Peter shot the accusation at
Neumann. Her eyes seemed to flash in the firelight."Aw--well, you can't let a husky have his own way. He'd got to pull
and we made him pull." Neumann spoke sulkily.Then Jim, still brimming with satisfaction, broke in, "And, Peg, I
was right about that Cree. Queer how one hits the nail slick on the
head sometimes;" he laughed, with a little self-conscious pride. "Why,
I said he'd stolen old Raa to make a deal, knowing they were short of
dogs. When we met just now I asked Neumann straight. I said, 'Did you
get Raa, and wasn't he sold to you by a low-down Cree, who'd been
hanging around at home?' and he said right there that's how it
was. Neumann allows he was pressed or he wouldn't have done it, but
still it is a rum notion how you see a thing sometimes. I know I do."
There was a modest pride in the boy's assertion. He looked
pleased."Cree?" said Peggy in her cool way."Ah, I suppose you mean the poor man without an ear. Didn't you pay
him all he asked, Mr. Neumann? Because he seems to stick to your
trail.""Or ours," put in Jim, who was feeling how much he knew about
everything.But silence had fallen on Neumann, and his jaw dropped as he stared
across the fire at Peggy's little upright figure and set face.La Perle swore audibly. Jim glanced from one to the other."Cree without an ear--" began Neumann, and seemed to choke on the
word."He trail us--you, hey?" put in La Perle, and made matters more
vivid by staring round over his shoulder into the night that seemed
darker because of the cheerful flames.Neumann promptly cursed him. Obviously he was angry, and, what was
more remarkable, afraid. "How could he pick up our trail?" he demanded
suddenly of his partner. "Why, last time we saw that neche was on the Slave. Ain't his district up on
Coppermine River? Eh, Louis? Why, I'll take my oath--""I thought you said he sold Raa to you last April on the way
between Missinnippi River and Cumberland House Settlement?" broke in
Peter, sharp as a frost and as hard. "Now you say you never saw the
man.""Miss Peter, he was not the same Cree," answered Neumann in a
dogged manner. "There was a chap with no ear--or wounded after that
fashion. He was up on the Slave a while back--never came south. There
was a Cree followed us and offered Raa for sale, as I told your
brother, an' he--""He had no left ear," said Peter. "I saw him twice; Jim saw him;
old Hearne saw him. He came around Log House before you ran in, and he
went when you went. Now then; there was only one Cree, and he had no
ear! We saw him more than once afterwards. On your trail, like as
not." Peter said that with immense satisfaction, because she saw both
men were upset in no small degree by this curious development of the
Cree story."Liar!" she whispered hotly to Peggy. "He stole Raa. Why, it's plain they never saw the
Indian!"Peggy agreed, nodding.The two trappers were conferring in low tones. Suddenly Neumann
stood up, then La Perle, and Jim rose with them. The three stood
together talking."Well, we break camp now," said Neumann. "We've got the canoe
cached close here, and we're off up river for Slave. If we make a good break we shall put a few miles
between us and this neche. We've got to lose
him--that's about it.""Kill 'eem," suggested La Perle."An' where is he, hey? Kill him yourself if you can find him,"
answered Neumann savagely. "I'm not partic'ler. Crees ain't so
precious in my sight. Well, we'll get on."Peter and Peggy looked at each other with triumphant eyes. Jim was
expostulating; he felt himself defrauded of companionship. He admired
experienced trappers who could tell yarns of adventure, and these men
he knew.Then, in the moment when all five were thinking least of such a
chance, came a heavy report, the acrid smell of powder and smoke, and
Jim staggered against La Perle, slipped to his knees, and then fell
prostrate.Neumann caught up his pack, which he had not unrolled, and went off
striding into the brushwood along the bank. La Perle bent over Jim,
lifted him a little, and turned him over."Ze arm, see, ze shoulder." He pointed out blood to stricken Peggy,
who had rushed forward. "It will mend; it is no'sing, he is shock,
that is all," and catching up his own pack he disappeared after his
partner."Of all the cowards!" cried Peter
stormily. "Look here, Peg,
let's see if his arm's broken first. No, look what a horrible hole in
his coat; but it might be worse--the bullet's gone through something,
Peg, because it's bleeding. Let's pray it is nothing to matter very
much."Keeping herself up in this buoyant fashion, Peter helped Peggy, who
was a first-rate nurse by nature, as her mother was. She had the gift
which is rare indeed.As far as the anxious girls could judge Jim should have been dead;
but a bullet from a trade muzzle-loader fired from, say, twenty paces
is not as effective as it is noisy. The holster with the automatic on
Jim's tough belt had deflected the shot, which had torn the flesh
round his ribs in a sort of ripping wound and passed out through the
leather shirt in front. No rib was broken.Jim opened his eyes and said, "Where's Neumann? What's the matter?"
Then he tried to sit up, but collapsed, and lay still, looking at his
sisters with troubled eyes.Peter told him that Neumann had run like a rabbit. "He thought you
were killed, likely as not." She laughed bitterly. "He was pretty
scarey, because he guessed the shot was meant for him. So it was. Our friend the Cree, Peg. Don't you
see they were all standing up together in front of the firelight,
and
Staring round over his shoulder into the night (p. 161)Illustration  opposite page 164 in E.E. Cowper's Girls on the
Gold Trail the man aimed at Neumann and
hit Jim, who was close to him. I wonder what that brute has done to
make the Indian hate him so? You bet he treated the poor creature as
he did Raa. One good thing, Pegtop, we're rid of that crowd.""We'll have to stay here till Jim's sound," Peggy told her in
rather a sober tone. "There'll be inflammation, Pete, and a good bit
of bother, but sure it might have been worse."So the pair of them started off at once to make a shelter for Jim
till he mended. The starlight made a soft shine that was not darkness,
yet made a mystery over the loveliness of the creek, the valley, the
green height that hemmed them in, and the distant muttering hum of the
far-away rapids."I shan't mind stopping here a bit," said Peter as she hacked away
at spruce stems strong enough to make a good-sized tepee, as the
Indian huts were called. "We'll let those men get ahead. Anything is
better than travelling with them. My word, I was sick, Pegtop! Queer
how old Jim is carried away by Neumann.""Oh no, not queer, really." Peggy as usual took a tolerant
view. "Jim's a boy, and those men can tell him so many things they've
done. All boys like 'toughs' who've had adventures; it's natural." Peggy sighed a little, much
as though she were Jim's mother, and thirty-nine instead of hardly
nineteen."I can understand Pierre Corraine for a hero," said Peter; "but
those men!"Peggy said nothing, but got very busy pulling down pine boughs to
thatch the tepee.By the time grey dawn put the stars out and soft mist drifted up
the gulch from the river that shelter was finished in fine style. On a
mossy flat just above the stream they had chosen the place. First,
three sapling poles were tied together like a tripod over a gipsy
fire, and the rest were leaned against them, leaving a space open
towards the water. This was hastily covered with boughs tied with
fibre from the inside of tough bark. In the case of real tepees the
Indians cover them with this same bark, but that is for winter
wear. The girls did not expect to remain in the gulch more than ten
days perhaps, so they were content with temporary comfort. The
tarpaulin shelter they kept for themselves, because they knew Jim
would be restless and unhappy if they did without.As the light grew they climbed up the steep above them and
collected moss--the long, grey "caribou" moss that is so dry and
elastic. This they brought down and made a grand bed for Jim, and another for themselves under their
shelter."Let's have a real house for once," said Peter. "I'm so sleepy, I
shall drop in a minute."But she did not drop. Instead they made tea and ate joyfully,
feeling oddly independent and at home. They attended to Raa's eye and
fed him; then Jim awoke with a flushed face, very bright eyes, and a
tendency to discuss the whole affair and defend Neumann. So they
partly carried, partly helped him into his tepee and on to his moss
bed, then bandaged up his torn ribs with the bandages they had
brought, on Mrs. Lockhart's insistence, in the little parcel of
medical necessaries. Tea he drank, but he would not eat, and the
restlessness grew with the fever.After that the two girls settled down to an orderly life of
fishing, cooking, and mending all their well-worn garments. When the
fever went down Jim was weak, of course, and the sisters agreed that
it was necessary to shoot one of the small spotted deer that came down
to drink at night. It had got to be done, because Jim must have strong
broth and meat, but neither of them liked the job. Peggy was the
coolest and most determined.Then a curious thing happened, that saved them some pain, though it was horrible to
witness.Jim was asleep, and the sisters decided to watch for some member of
the smaller deer tribe; so they loaded Jim's rifle and took up a place
close to one of the little tracks trodden by the feet of night
visitors to the stream. They did not even whisper, but just watched
the beauty and mystery as the moon began to rise over the woods on the
heights at the head of the gulch. The two girls were sitting on a bank
under the shelter of a moss-covered granite boulder, big and
overhanging; around them were clumps of brushwood and banksian pine;
they were shielded except in front, and remained still as the rock
above them.Presently Peter whispered, with her lips to Peggy's ear, "I feel
there is some animal on the rock. Pray it isn't a puma!"Peggy shook her head, meaning this was very unlikely, as it
was.Peter lifted her eyebrows with an expression that said, "Can't be
helped, anyway," and froze in immobility.In about half an hour a small spotted doe came stepping delicately
down the mossy track to the water. Every minute or two she checked and
sniffed the air. Peggy felt her sister quiver. There was something in
the dainty beauty of this
woodland creature that went to Peter's heart. From their almost
cave-like shelter they could see the great soft eyes and wide,
sensitive nostrils.Just as the deer came opposite, and Peggy sighted the rifle, there
came a rush of shadow from the top of the boulder, and down on the
deer came something big and immensely strong. In a moment the killing
was over, and the great, wiry, furry shape was crouched on the doe's
body, making a snarling sound that was particularly venomous."Shall I shoot?" whispered Peggy."No; if you miss--goodness! What is it?" Peter was shivering with
excitement.Next minute they knew, for the killing animal raised itself up with
a long rigid movement, like a cat gives when she humps her back and
stretches all four feet at once. It showed plain in the moonlight--the
hideous, wicked face of a big male lynx, the wide mouth open, and the
curious mad eyes glaring green. For a moment it strained up, gripping
the doe's body with terrible talons, then it gave a raucous scream,
harsh and triumphant, as though it were boasting to the whole night
what a fine thing it had done.As a rule, all wild things of the woods keep clear of the lynx,
unless they must fight for
their lives; but on this particular night it seemed that there was a
rival, for the screech was answered by one just as loud and hideously
vicious, and out of the shadows on the other side of the track stepped
one of those huge wild-cats that woodsmen of the north call a
"catamount," and the French-Canadians usually a "lucefee." They are
rare, though the wild-cat is common. They are nearly as heavy as a
lynx, and their claws and teeth are terrific weapons too. They are
also swifter and more graceful than the lynx, which has hardly any
tail and very high, clumsy-looking hindquarters. All these things the
sisters knew, because they had heard all sorts of yarns in winter from
old Hearne and other visitors about forest beasts. They had often seen
lynxes, trapped them, and detested them, but never before a live
catamount.This one faced the lynx with a succession of yowling screeches that
were enough to strike terror into the woods for a mile round. Then it
sprang, and the fight that followed was the most amazing exhibition of
strength, swiftness, and quite devilish enmity that the girls had ever
dreamed of. The screaming of the fighting beasts was so deafening
while it lasted that the girls could only hold each other's hands and
crouch closer to one another in speechless horror.Then, as suddenly as it began, the struggle ended. The beautiful
catamount was dead, the under part of it torn to ribbons by the
terrible ripping talons of the lynx's hind feet. The latter walked a
few steps, stood still, stretched up again, arching its back in a
stiff strain, gave one curious yell, and fell over dead. When the
girls looked at him afterwards they saw that he was blinded and his
throat bitten to pieces. So both were dead. They had killed each
other!"We'll bury them in the morning," said Peggy, gazing down at the
bodies. "Poor things--what a noise! And, Pete, we can have the doe; it
is only killed, not hurt. Just what we want for Jim."They carried the spoil to the little camp, and told Jim the story
of the fight they'd seen. He groaned because he had missed it."You don't see that more than once in a lifetime," he
said.CHAPTER
XITHE BEAR ROCKIN about ten days Jim was well, and his strength renewed. The girls
were perhaps none the worse for that curious short holiday. They
declared they would visit their pretty tepee and the graves of the two
huge cats on the way home."How odd it seems," said Pete. "We shall be back here in how long?
Six weeks, Jim, shan't we? My word! it will be September. We shall
have to hurry if we want to get home before the freeze comes." She
laughed.Peggy did not laugh. She had a sober look. They had lost two more
weeks through this accident--certainly no fault of theirs.But fortune smiled on them once they got afloat. Everything went
well with a kind of even success that was cheering. They had three
days of porterage through woods when
rapids drove them ashore, and then they came out on the shores of the
Lake of the Great Slave. There is a story about how that lovely lake
came by its name, and the story is doubtless true, but too long to
tell here. It is told in another place, is tragic, and very
splendid. The three on the hidden treasure trail knew nothing about
it, but they gazed at the calm beauty of this heavenly place, with the
sun going down in amber and mauve, the woods and hills rising mistily
round the golden shine of it, while the loons and herons called before
they went to roost.There was only this between them and Crooked River Creek! As they
camped that night they stared away and away over the water into the
distance that held what they had come for. Peggy had tears in her
eyes. All three of them looked older, and different from the three
that had left the Log House in May.Next morning, as the sun rose, they pushed off, doing exactly what
Pierre Corraine had told them to do. Not to navigate the shores, or go
round, which would take them many weeks, seeing that Great Slave is
longer than Athabasca and very irregular, but to go straight across,
steering by compass and the sun, and they should arrive hard by the
entrance to Crooked
River. The width here was perhaps thirty miles. Rather a big venture
in such a frail craft--well-laden, too. Nor was it like going down a
river; but not one of the three gave a thought to risk. The whole
business was risk, when it came to that. From start to finish there
was danger.They rested once or twice and took a little pemmican. Then the
farther shore rose out of the silver lake, and after that they watched
it grow with eager eyes. In the afternoon they landed, and the member
of the party best pleased to land was undoubtedly Raa, who, by the
way, was a very sound dog again and ready for anything.Where they landed they camped for the night and, sitting round the
fire, made plans for the real business of the expedition--that is to
say, the moving and conveyance of the treasure."It can't be very much--I mean as to weight," said Peggy. "How many
pounds, Jim, do you think? What's our pack now?"Jim said it had been under two hundred when they started--a very
light pack for three now it was less, of course. He couldn't give a
guess about the gold dust.They spoke of it in whispers, because it seemed rather
awe-inspiring! Gold dust and nuggets
that were to mean so much to their mother for the rest of her
life. Suddenly Peter said,--"I remember hearing Dad say that seven thousand dollars weighs
thirty-five pounds in dust. Well, we can carry thirty-five pounds
besides our pack, can't we? It'll fill up the canoe though. Ought we
to have another canoe, Jim?"So they talked and ate, came to no conclusion, and fell asleep in
their blankets.Next morning, at dawn, they started up into Crooked River Creek,
the girls thrilling in every nerve with excitement, Jim very stolid to
conceal his.The memory of Gijik's directions, picturesque as they were,
remained in the minds of the three. Crooked River certainly came up to
its name! Streams ran down into it from wooded swamps, from rocky
ravines, and they saw several strange, new things. In one place a
colony of beavers had built a dam right across the mouth of a
tributary water, so completely stopping it that they had caused a
swampy lake behind, which was spreading far and wide. The Lockharts
stopped the canoe to watch these strange creatures working, for they
were not the least shy. No doubt they had begun by felling timber
across the stream, gnawing
through poplar, willow, alder, and birch till the trunks began to
obstruct the flow and make a sort of bridge; then they started on
making a cement of mud and little twigs, which they carried in cakes
under their chins, and filled up the framework till nothing but
dynamite could smash their building. The Lockharts had seen them at
work before on the Missinnippi, but never such a fine piece of
engineering as this one on Crooked River; so they rested on their
paddles, watching these curious people climb out, looking so shiny and
smooth, pulling long bits of wood which were carried to places where
the fortress must be strengthened and heightened."Silly fools," said Jim, stroking Raa, who was snarling viciously
at these odd, busy people, "they'll turn the whole country up there
into a swampy lake. What's the good?""It's wonderful," murmured Peter. "How can people hurt them?""Jolly good thing they do," retorted her brother. "You don't want
all the rivers stopped, and the woods turned into marshes just to
amuse a silly idiot like a beaver! If the trappers didn't keep them
under, where would any one be?"As Peggy and Peter had no idea of the answer to this question they
said nothing, while Raa agreed
whole-heartedly with Jim. He knew by bitter experience that if you
jump into a river and grip a beaver that person simply goes to the
bottom and bites at you with his terrible cutting teeth--the teeth
that saw through trees. And the one who is forced to give in will be
the attacker, because he can't fight for long at the bottom of the
stream. Then the beaver wins, which is annoying to a wolf-dog very
much in earnest.Crooked River Creek was some six miles above the big beaver dam on
the same side--that was the western shore. It was about the middle of
an afternoon when the canoe opened up the place, and the travellers
knew it at once. A creek, wooded yet rocky, crowned by dark pines. On
the farther shore of it, built apparently close to the steep rise,
there stood a log-built shack."Oh!" murmured Peggy. "Oh, Peter! Poor Dad!"As they turned into the creek not one of them said anything
more.They landed. Then Jim, glancing up at the lonely shack, said in a
sober voice,--"I vote we walk up the creek a little way, just to be sure; you
remember--the pine tree above a rock shaped like a bear.""We don't know whether the bear is sitting down or standing, do we?" asked Peggy, with a little
furrow of anxiety between her eyebrows.Then Peter began to laugh, and she laughed so much that she sat
down on a rock and sobbed a little. Nobody said anything.Jim went up along the shore with big strides. He was feeling
deeply, and he wanted to get away from people and do something. The
place was not a quarter of a mile farther on, and obvious if you knew
the secret.A sort of track went upward from the shore, not a path, of course,
but just a possible ascent between rocks, brushwood, and trees. High
up, almost at the top of the rise, stood out one big pine tree,
blasted by lightning. It was riven and jagged, with a branch or two
pointing out on one side. Below was a massive round-topped boulder,
really like nothing in particular, but imagination might have
suggested a bear standing with drooped head looking down towards the
quiet creek.Jim simply sprinted up the broken ascent. The strong action worked
off some of his feeling, perhaps, and when he got level with the rock
on the hillside he allowed that it was like a bear. Many times bigger,
but there was a space through the lower part that suggested the curve
of ribs, with rock for back and
forelegs, and the smallish head of the great Polar bear, so snake-like
and wicked."That's it," he said aloud, and he stared.The foot of the boulder was set in brushwood. Impossible to see if
it was rock beneath. But there must be cracks, he guessed. His heart
beat faster than usual, but he did not know that, for the excitement
had got hold of him.Down on the shore the girls looked at one another with rather
shrinking glances."Pegtop, let's open the door and go in before Jim comes back. Let's
light a fire and do something, now--directly. We can't sit and think
about it all. Please, Peg."Peggy nodded, and, with Raa between them, they hurried up towards
this queer place, which was probably a rest-house for hunters coming
down Crooked River to the Great Lake--that is to say, a bunk-house, in
the language of the North. It was strongly built of logs, which had
warped a little in the summer heat, so that they did not quite fit
together. The roof was a thick thatch of coarse grass, kept down by
big flat stones--a protection against snow, perhaps, and the fearful
winter gales. The small pipe of a stove came through a hole in the
wall, and there was one narrow window, covered with parchment. The
heavy cross-barred door was
hung on big leather hinges--three hinges, made of strong caribou hide,
nailed with great nails.The whole place gave the impression of primitive strength, intended
to withstand the fury of incalculable forces. It made the sisters
realize on the instant how far north they were, and how terrific
winter must be! They had often thought the Log House was lonely and
beset by bad storms, but what must it be up here in this wild
creek?Peggy said suddenly, "We'd better get that stuff up to-morrow,
Pete, and pack it in the canoe and get on back home as quick as we
possibly can. Don't you think so? We could be off in three days at the
very latest." She looked questioningly at her sister.Peter's face was grave and pale under the tan. In her deep-set dark
eyes was a curious, distant expression. "Yes," she said, as though
pulling herself back from something she was watching. "Oh yes, Peg; of
course." She spoke briskly, but like an echo."You're not really thinking so," Peggy persisted."Not? Oh yes, I am--of course we had better," said Peter, and she
opened the door.The thrill of entering this place changed Peggy's thoughts. She
stood still, looking round. Not a large
space, but big enough to hold three bunkers built against the wall,
two on one side, one below the window, an iron stove, rather large, a
rough table, a bench, and several stools. Behind the stove on the wall
was a good-sized cupboard, evidently for the keeping of stores. The
floor was of coarsely shaved logs lying side by side, just to make it
drier, and the door could be fastened inside by a stout beam of wood
that might be let down across it in two strong staples, after the
fashion of shutter bars."Not bad," said Peggy, and looked at Peter. "Let's light the
stove. We can get wood pretty quick. We may as well stay here while we
are here. Three days at the outside. Come on."Peter "came on" as she was asked, but in the same speechless
fashion.They ran about getting wood, and the roar of the fire in the stove
was so amazingly home-like and comfortable that in a few minutes quite
a new complexion was put on things. Peter woke up from her queer
trance and laughed. The bag of flour--the last--was opened, and Peggy,
with a flushed face, started to make "unleavened cakes," for the yeast
was finished. Peter rushed down to fish, but also demanded
bacon. Peggy had been so mean
with it lately that this must be allowed also--on such a red-letter
day.When Jim came back preparations were well forward, and he struck
the last note of triumph. He'd found the place--yes! He'd been hunting
around the base of the bear--yes! He believed he knew where the
treasure was buried. That was the culminating "yes" in answer to very
many eager questions.That was a wonderful festival. The thought that prevailed
was--their mother. They would be able to tell her about this shack and
that it was by no means wretched. A man living there would not be
subjected to severe privation if he had faithful friends to look after
him like the Indian pair. Poor Tom Lockhart had been terribly ill
here, but he had not suffered extreme misery in his illness. There was
a lot of comfort for her in that. And then came the success of their
amazing trail, and the money Dad had won to educate Don and Dolly, and
make her comfortable for life.They sat outside on the slope that fell towards the creek,
discussing it all, because the shack was too hot inside, and they were
all so used to open-air sleeping beneath the great white stars.Jim and Peggy talked and talked, settling the swift discovery of
the gold and an immediate start
back. Peter sat with her long brown fingers locked round her bent
knees, staring--up the creek to the bend where the pines shut it off,
down to where the opening curved out into the river, across at the
steeps opposite, back at the high rocks behind! She tried to think,
but could not, because her mind was obsessed by immense dread. She was darkened in her spirit by a
premonition more distinct and overpowering than any she had had in her
life yet.Would they ever see home again? Would they be able to get away from
the horrible force that was entangling them, hemming them in, cutting
them off from help and hope?That was how she felt, and she fought
against the feeling with all her common sense, hiding her mind from
the others because it would be so mean to try and put fear into them,
where, apparently, no fear was. One thing she did say: "Why not carry
the canoe up to the shack?""Why?" asked Jim, who was lying flat, staring up at the stars
coming out. The moon would not show till after midnight."Why not?" retorted Peter. "Something happened to it once just
because we were sure it wouldn't. I think it's nice to have it
close.""Oh yes, why not?" agreed Peggy. "There is no one here, but still
one may as well be extra careful. You don't lose by it."So Jim went down, fetched the canoe up on his shoulder, and laid
her down close by."Sleep in her if you like," he said to Peter, just a little
scornfully."Better than be left with nothing to get home in," she
retorted.Soon after that they all three got their blankets and rolled
themselves up in peace and security to sleep.Peter slept, because she was tired with hard work, but only for
about two hours. Then she found herself awake and uneasy; she believed
it was because of this dread in her mind. There were clouds over the
stars, a sort of misty wrack had come up from the far-away lake
perhaps, and the noise of wind in the pines mingled with the ceaseless
rush of the river. She rolled over and took a new position, looking at
the canoe with satisfaction. Then she noticed Raa--not asleep, but
still, with his ears cocked, moving his wrinkled eyebrows over red
speckled eyes. She could just see the light behind them, inside them,
as you do in wolves' eyes. He was listening, like herself.Then a strange thing happened. Peter heard a soft hiss in the air, and, from over the shack it seemed,
something swished and fell close to her. It knocked against the canoe
with a little tap as it grounded. Raa lifted his head and stared, his
lip curling up with challenge.Peter raised herself on her elbow and looked at the other two. Both
slept deeply. Then she stretched out an arm and took the thing that
had fallen. It appeared to be a stick.It was an arrow. The point had stuck into the ground, but instead
of remaining so the arrow fell over, because something was tied to the
feathered end. Immensely interested, the girl examined this very
carefully, and saw it was a strip of bark, and on the smooth, inner
surface marks were made, apparently by a bit of charred stick, because
they were quite black. That much she could see, holding it close to
her eyes, but it was not writing. Anyway, she thought, as her mind
began to grasp the significance of this queer happening--anyway, it
must mean something very important. Was it a warning? If so, from
whom?After a few minutes' thought she woke the other two, in
whispers. She would not take it on herself to wait till
daylight. Peggy came awake like a bird--it was her way."What is it? What's the matter, Pete?" Her voice was
anxious.Jim took more rousing, but he came awake obediently in answer to
Peggy's urgency.Then Peter showed the arrow. She told them she was awakened by a
feeling of listening, and saw Raa was listening too. Then this thing
fell, and she said she was almost sure it came from the rocks behind
the shack--that is, the high, rugged rise above them.All three looked up as she whispered, and noticed the way this
cliff-like steep shot up at the back of the bunk-house. Pines grew at
the top, up the side too--clumps of pine everywhere, that clothed the
height in black shadow. Of course, any one might conceal himself
there; but whoever it was must have a very intimate knowledge of their
position to have dropped this arrow so accurately."We can't see," said Peggy at last, after fingering the message
into every position. "It is cloudy, the stars are gone, and the moon
doesn't show. Let us go into the shack and light up some wood."With one accord the others agreed, and they all went into the dim
hut, furtively, as though expecting to find something mysterious."You bet it's that Cree again," said Jim."Jim, you've got that poor Indian on the brain," Peggy told
him."Well, he shot me.""He never meant to," Peter said in her positive way. "He was
shooting at Neumann.""We can't tell for sure.""Oh yes, we can. The whole story strings out like links in a
chain," answered the girl."But Neumann--""Jim, don't you see what lies that man told you? He said the Cree
sold Raa to him, and then later, when he was afraid, he let out that
he'd not seen the man for months, and that his hunting district was up
on Coppermine. Neumann's horribly afraid of him, that's one
comfort.""So am I," said Jim, in such a sober voice that Peter was seized
with one of her giggling fits.Peggy "hushed" them in her motherly way. She was kneeling by the
stove, holding the strip of bark to the light from the crackling
sticks. "Oh, do look," she urged. "What on earth does it
mean?"CHAPTER
XIITHE BLASTED PINEBLACK marks, made obviously by charred wood. And the marks, or
figures, were five in number.The first was upright, a strong line down, with one or two strokes
sticking out from it at one side.The second was lumpish, something of a blot, but oblong, not
round.Then came two shapes or hieroglyphics side by side. Each a line
down and four points to it, with one of the upper points crossed by a
bar.The last, separate, drawn low on the piece of bark, was a thing
rather like a toadstool with a long stalk and top that was not smooth,
but rather like the coat of a porcupine.Three heads bent over the mystery, and three people remained
speechless. Then Peter broke silence."If only we knew one of the things, we should hit on the
others. Just one!"But that was no help, because they could not hit on one; or on the
reason for the sending, or who the messenger was; or why he didn't
come and speak instead of firing an arrow!At the end of an hour they all were tired, but no nearer the
answer. Jim did not last out nearly that time, but went to sleep
again, growling about people having no sense. Peter held on; but at
last she said her head was spinning round, and she thought the secret
might be revealed if they stopped looking at it and did something else
for a few hours. Then she too went to sleep, and only Peggy kept to it
alone. Upside down, sideways, every way, what was it? She could not
sleep, because she felt sure that very much hung on the answer,
something immensely vital to their enterprise.In the grey of dawn Peggy rose from her stool by the stove and went
out, stepping softly. Raa got up too and went with her, leaving the
others like two chrysalis in their blankets. With her hand on the
dog's head Peggy went along the broken ground above the shore, picking
her way between rocks, brushwood, and stony slopes. White mist filled
the course of the creek,
through which towering pines shot up in dark smudges. There was
something in this creek that made for a sort of awesome loneliness,
thought the girl, more so than the green gulch in Slave River; she
didn't mind that at all.She went along the trail Jim had taken, quite understanding where
it should lead to; it was a very rough track, of course, leading
through undergrowth which her brother had trodden down and broken in
several places. Peggy looked at this rather frowningly. In the back of
her mind was a sort of uneasiness about the perfectly open way in
which Jim had trampled a path up to the Bear Rock. Surely it would
have been wiser to conceal their trail! Then she thought, what did it
matter? They would dig up the gold dust and bring it down to-day--at
the word her heart leaped. To-day, after all these weeks. She stood
still, looking--looking. The sun had risen, and the tree tops came out
clean above the white fog. With the light full on it stood a tall,
black fir stem--it had no top, because it had been seared by
lightning, but from one side stuck out two or three jagged boughs,
leafless like spikes.In a rush the first picture on the bit of bark came before the
girl's mind.It was the blasted pine over the Bear Rock. Well, then, might not
the next picture, the oblong blot, be the rock itself? Of course.She turned round and hurried back, Raa trotting at her heels, and
found Peter standing outside the shack waiting for her. Jim had gone
down to bathe."I've lighted the stove, the water will boil directly, and we've
got some fish over from last night. Pegtop, what's the matter?
Anything happened?""I believe I know what the first pictures mean. Here, let me look
at the bark."Peggy looked only once, and a flush spread all over her cheeks and
neck as she told her discovery to her sister."Then if that's a tree," cried Peter, thumping the table with a
brown fist, "I know what the last thing is. It's a cedar--that means
it is Gijik. My word, how great!"So Jim found the rest of the party thrilling with excitement. He
agreed with their notions, but instantly asked what the star-fish were
in the middle."Pegtop and I have found out three--that's more than half,"
retorted Peter briskly. "Now it's up to you to find out what the rest
means. It is rather important, because it explains the message when
you come to think of it. I mean we know the pine and the bear rock, we know Gijik. Well, we
don't know the other things.""No, dashed if we do," allowed Jim. "Let's have breakfast. Then
we'll get on to this job, all three of us, and get it over. It won't
take long."Presently they went, carrying one of the rubber bags, the axe, and
the small shovel and fork they had brought for this purpose. Also,
they all had knives and the "guns," while Jim carried his rifle slung
over his back. They went in high hope. They worked all day round the
base of the great boulder, and they found nothing at all! It was rock,
rock everywhere under the thin earth surface and scrubby brushwood!
That night they were depressed. Jim wondered whether any one had found
the stuff and taken it away. Peggy looked horrified at this idea, but
said nothing. Peter was quite decided."Oh no," she said, "no, certainly not. I shan't believe that. For
one thing, the place isn't broken up as it would have been if men had
been hunting there--" She paused, and a new expression came into her
eyes; they narrowed as though seeing something far off. "And,
besides," she went on, "if they'd found the gold, Neumann and La Perle
wouldn't be hanging about our trail. They were after us from first to last--I'll vow they were. And
they're somewhere now, and it's because of that gold.""Oh, Pete!" gasped Peggy uneasily."You're so set against them that you can't see fair," said Jim."Of course, I'm set against them," went on the girl hotly. "I'm
dead sure those men hung about Dad to steal his stuff, and that's what
Gijik meant by men with bad hearts. They were tricked at the time, but
they got away with his Winchester--other things too, I daresay."Jim grunted, but Peter swept on with little fierce gestures of her
long brown hands."I'm dead sure they are somewhere about now, and that's why--" She
pulled up with a cry and wrung her hands together in an ecstasy of
triumph. "Oh, Pegtop, don't you see--the pictures on the bark! The
warning to us! Those two figures are men. Look! see!" She sprang up
from the bench, with one stride was at the bunk, and fished the strip
of bark from under the blankets. "Peggy, look, they are two men with
guns, or sticks, in one hand; probably meant for guns, to show they
are dangerous. There, you have the whole story. The place where the
treasure is hidden, and the enemy against us, and Gijik's name. It's
clear as the stars.""To you," said Jim. "Doesn't strike me in the same way. How do you
feel, Peg?"Peggy gazed at the figure on the bark. "Well, I rather think
Peter's right," she allowed.Peter gave one skip. "Now we know, we'll burn the message," she
said, and promptly pushed the bark into the stove.Jim looked on stolidly. Both girls were against him, but his
opinion still held."This doesn't tell us where the gold is," said Peggy plaintively,
nodding towards the flaring bark."Must be at that place," Peter told her. "We must go on till we
find it."Next morning they were off at dawn again, and all day long they
worked, finding it as hard as the trail or paddle. But they left Raa
at the shack, because Peter's certainty impressed the other two enough
to make them give way to her suggestion. All the stores were put
inside the shack, the canoe against the door, and Raa hard by on a
long leash."They won't dare shoot him yet," said Peter.But no gold was found, and at twilight they went back very
silent.Raa jumped up to greet them. He looked pleased and comfortable. On
the ground near him was a gnawed
bone with red meat still hanging to it."Hullo, deer meat!" exclaimed Jim. "Now, who on earth--"Peggy had jumped over the canoe and entered the shack, and a cry
from her interrupted the dog questions.She came to the door holding up a piece of bark, her blue eyes very
wide and startled."It was on the table," she said. "At first I thought it was the
other, and then remembered we'd burned that. Look!"Peter seized the message and stared. "Ah!" came like a sigh
almost. "I told you, Jim."Only four figures this time. First, the tree alone, larger, very
definite.Secondly, the two little pictures that might be intended for two
men walking, one behind the other, holding guns.Lastly, the cedar sign low at the foot."No bear this time," said Peter thoughtfully, "but the enemy--and
the pine. The pine first and largest. Jim, we've got to go up the
rock; the gold is by the pine tree.""Looks so," said Jim. He was rather startled."Let's go back to-night," urged Peter. They all looked at one
another with questioning eyes."I'm rather used up," said Peggy. "why not morning? Let's have
supper and go to bed."Later on Peter remarked that she would give much to know whether it
was Gijik who was warning them after this strange fashion."Must be the old Cedar," said Jim lazily. "Who else is there?"They went to sleep without answering that question. Raa could have
told them, but he was asleep, dreaming of fresh deer meat and an
interesting person he'd never seen before.When they all went out on the third day they knew what they would
do, and lost no time in doing it; that is, they climbed up and over
the huge boulder that bore resemblance to a bear, and again up to the
foot of the blasted pine that shot up on the rock above. It was a
strenuous business, that climb, as the boulder was smoothed by
centuries of wind, snow, and frost, while nothing grew on it but moss
and lichen. They helped each other up, clung like forest cats to the
smallest crevices, and finally landed up on the top, which was
slippery as the sides."Remember it's the tree we've come for," Peter reminded them,
clambering ahead on her hands and knees, as the safest means of
progression.When they came to the tree the size of its spreading roots was an astonishment; they struck down
outside into root cracks, and they were dead most of them, for the
tree had been killed in some storm, and had rotted by degrees inside
trunk and roots.If the minds of the searchers had not been fixed on the tree they
would not have found what they sought. But they tried nothing else,
only the tree, and by this concentration they won.In the hollow roots buckskin bags were stuffed--shabby brown
buckskin, in colour much like the perished wood. After the first
half-choked exclamations no one spoke, and presently it became plain
that to reveal all they must split and cut out the roots.Hours they worked, silent most of the time, because something like
awe had taken fast hold of their dazzled minds at the amount of this
treasure. Not that the actual gold dust affected them as it did and
does gold-diggers and adventurers of all ages. They were too simple
and wholesome in their way of looking at life. They did not want the
things gold would buy--on the contrary, they were rather afraid of
it. But the awe was inspired by the thought of their father's labours,
and the duty they owed to him that their mother should profit by
it. It was a straight outlook; they all thought the same, and they all felt a certain dread of
the fact that they--and they only--had got to convey this weighty mass
of dirty brown bags all those hundreds of miles back to Log House! It
would weigh as much again as their simple pack.They crouched round and stared at it all. Jim began to calculate
according to rules told him by those who were wise in such
matters. Seventy pounds of dust would be valued at fourteen thousand
dollars. He guessed they'd got near two hundred and fifty pounds here
in weight. Well, that meant--Jim became confused at this point, while
Peter stared at him with dazzled eyes."We'd better get it down, and then home," said Peggy, sighing."Home!" echoed Peter, startled."To the shack, I mean. Oh dear, what a desperate bother gold is,"
commented Peggy in her soft, old-fashioned way. "We're much happier
without it--much.""Well, if we don't take jolly good care we shall be without it,"
retorted Peter. Then she whistled softly the song her mother sang when
they were small and the snow came:--
"And what would the robins do then, poor things:They'd creep in a barn to keep themselves warmAnd put their heads under their wings, poor things. "It's mother's, you see, not ours," she
ended valiantly.They put a lot of small bags into the rubber bag, and lowered it
down over the "Bear." Then Peter went over, emptied it, and sent it up
for the rest. When they were all landed once more, without broken
bones, at the base of the Bear Rock they settled to pack the rubber
sack full and drag it. What was over they could carry by hand and
pocket. Indeed, it is wonderful what you can stow on your person. Gold
dust weighs heavily in proportion to its size, as any one can
understand.Buoyant with triumph and excitement, the three started to drag the
rubber sack along the trail, crushing and breaking the brushwood, and
making an astounding amount of noise. Peter said she felt ready to
jump over the creek, and Peggy's face was dimpled with smiling
joys. Her part was to go ahead and make the trail easier by getting
rid of branches and stones, and so on. As twilight had snuffed out day
in the depths of that rock-bound creek, the sooner this job was done
the better, they all thought.This endeavour had proceeded for about fifty yards or more, when
the undergrowth ahead of Peggy was divided silently, and a
startling figure stood
directly in the path. If an angel had appeared with a flaming sword
the girl could not have been more surprised.It was a woman, an Indian, and, according to white people's
calculation of age, a girl little older than Peggy. She was pretty,
too, with very large, intelligent black eyes, and two tails of black
hair braided with beads and wool that hung down below her waist over
both shoulders. She was dressed in leather, fringed and embroidered,
and her little feet were covered by dainty moccasins with white tops
of cured doeskin. She held out her hand with an imperious gesture to
stop Peggy's advance. Her movements were as quick and vehement as
Peter's, but quite noiseless, and it became evident at once that she
was disturbed and angry even. She slid by Peggy and checked the
advance of the other two. Then she tried by signs to make them see
that all this was entirely wrong. She pointed at the sack, made
indignant gestures towards the broad and crushed trail from the Bear
Rock, and finally, with a quick hand on Jim's arm, pointed down hill
to the creek and the water."She means we've made a trail like a coach and six horses," said
Peter, looking at her, brother. "My word, so we have! I say"--this to
the girl--"are you Mitawawa? Youbet
she is, Jim. Pegtop, she sent us the bark pictures. Sure, isn't she a
sweet thing!""Me Mitawawa." The girl nodded and tapped the breast of her
shirt. "Trail bad--all bad," she went on, trying to put her ideas into
words, but failing for want of knowledge of English words. "Mitawawa
see--bad trail."She whipped out of her pocket a buckskin tump line with a
slightly-made cradle of strips attached, and slipped it over the
sack. Peter instantly seizing her idea, helped with very efficient
fingers, and in a minute the weight that seemed so ponderous to the
three was up on her slight, wiry shoulders. Then with a gesture
expressive of haste she went off down the rugged slope, making for the
water--not straight, but picking a crooked trail where footmarks would
be least visible."She wants to hide the trail," said Peggy."Look here, let's take our cue from her, and all go
separately. I'll follow Mitawawa. You bet she's going along in the
water. Jim, you make a new trail between our track and the
creek. Pegtop can go back along the way we've made.""Good," Jim agreed. "I say, Peg, it's pretty plain she expects some
trouble.""Of course," said Peter, rather pleased at the way things were turning out to prove the
rightness of her instincts. "Don't you see, Jim, we've got to get the
stuff to the shack and leave those beasts uncertain where it is. I
say, what a tip-top spree; they'll see the broad trail end--in
nothing, all in one moment.""Oh, they'll see we carried it. Any one would," said Jim, refusing
to be uplifted into heights of excitement. "They'd know we should take
it to the shack--I mean if there is any 'they' in the business. That's
got to be proved."But Peter declined to listen to reasonable arguments opposed to her
certain convictions. Off she went after the Indian girl, who had won
her ardent admiration in those few minutes. "I wish I were as clever," sighed Peter as she fled
down to the water in flying bounds that even Mitawawa could not have
traced. Sure enough, there was the girl just ahead in the water, going
at a pace that seemed a miracle, considering the weight she
carried. Silent and swift, taking advantage of every bit of cover
along the shore.Peter kept behind in her tracks, but did not approach. She thought
she would be useful at the end of the journey in the climb to the
shack--the quieting of Raa, and the bestowal of the bags in
safety. Oh, where, where could they
be put? thought the girl as she sped along. Well, it would not be for
long; the canoe should be packed and that haunted creek left far
behind within twenty-four hours. Her heart bounded at the joy of
this--done, done!Mitawawa went up the shore at the most pebbly point. She avoided
rocks, because of the print and slipperiness of wet moccasins; she
avoided sand for obvious reasons. Peter followed her and slurred the
shingle, going to and fro herself and making confusion if there should
be watchful eyes. She did not quite understand the position, which she
was trying to think out as she ran.Supposing the warning justified, as she felt sure it was, and these
trappers actually on the spot, why had they not tracked the three
Lockharts to the hiding-place of the treasure? Why had they not
already arrived at the shack with threats? She believed the Indian
girl could explain; but then she had no words. It seemed odd that
Neumann should keep hidden and allow the three to get the gold into
their possession. Altogether the intention was not clear to Peter.She was still thinking of this when she caught up Mitawawa near the
door of the shack. Raa was there, guarding the canoe. He stood
alertly, with a long smile and shining eyes, as the pair arrived. Obviously he had accepted the
Indian girl as a friend; she spoke to him in her soft, guttural tones
as she came up. Peter opened the door, saw all well, and stood a
moment looking back. She made out Jim emerging from the brushwood on
the shore, coming fast.Then with startling suddenness the quiet was rent by one piercing
shriek--one shuddering scream of terror and pain.CHAPTER
XIIICAUGHT!PETER knew her sister's voice in that dreadful cry, and just for
the moment she felt as though in a nightmare, limb-tied. She saw Jim
check in his oncoming stride, turn, and run up the steep towards the
old trail which was in the wood on the slope. She forgot the Indian
girl and the gold. Nothing remained in her knowledge but Peggy's
scream. If she'd gone on screaming, thought Peter, the effect would
have been less shocking; it was the silence after that one shriek
which made the stab.Jim had disappeared. Peter went with flying feet, and Raa on her
heels. She never noticed that, or remembered that she'd set him free
till she saw him: then she stopped."My word, that sack!" thought the girl, in an agony of mind. If the
enemy was around, how could Mitawawa defend the gold against two men--alone, without weapons?
Sick at the delay, she seized Raa's collar and took him back. The
wolf-dog objected strongly; he flattened his ears and snarled--for he
knew better than any one how near was the enemy of himself and his
friends. Peter coaxed, and the dog let himself be tied in the doorway
with the long hide leash."That won't prevent them shooting you,
beauty," muttered the girl, with a choke in her throat. "Oh, Mitawawa,
what shall we do? Did you hear my sister scream? And now we've got all
that gold. Can you stay and guard it?""Men, bad heart," said the girl with a frown. Then she added
suddenly, "Him no get gold now. Oh no," and she shook her head.
"Wolf-dog, Mitawawa, make kill--""All right, my dear child, so long as you can kill them, I'm
agreeable. The thing is, I don't quite see what's to prevent them from
killing you first. However, luck to us," and she went off again at top
speed.But a few minutes had passed since that cry, though it seemed quite
a long time to Peter. She went straight by the track they had used
each time, and in a dip buried in brushwood came suddenly on Jim. He
was kneeling on the ground, and close to him,
prone on her face, motionless, lay Peggy."Is she dead?" demanded Peter with husky abruptness."She's caught in a bear trap--her leg," answered Jim, then added,
panting as he strained at the spring, "Beastly thing--mind your hands,
Pete."Peter understood in a flash which held for her both horror and
relief. Peggy was not shot; it was a question of dreadful pain and, of
course, a broken leg--every kind of bad luck, but not death. Light
burst into Peter's gloom, and instantly her active mind began to
question."How--on--earth? Jim, it wasn't here when we came along this
morning!"Jim grunted. He was using the whole force of his strong hands to
break open the two lines of iron teeth which held Peggy's leather
legging and the slender limb inside it."I rather hope her leg--isn't--broken." Jim breathed hard. "Look
here, Pete--top luck! A stone caught in the hinge at this end. You
see, when they raked the dirt and leaves over the trap, they forgot to
make sure the hinges were quite clear.""'They'?" repeated Peter. "Why should any one--Jim, I see the whole
devil's trick. I--""All right--see away when we've got Pegtop out of this. Here, lift
up her shoulders. I'll shift her legs. Pete, whatever you do, don't
touch that spring again."Peggy was lifted clear and laid on the moss a little way off. She
lay quite white and still, unconscious, but her heart was
beating. Peter was just starting down for water from the creek when a
thought checked her."Jim, let's carry her home before we wake her up. It will hurt her
much more if we wake her first. I say, what are you doing, Jim?""Setting the trap again for the beasts who caught Peg," answered
her brother in a dry voice. "I'll pay them."Peter stood looking as he pulled the horrible invention along to
the next drop in the track; then he smoothed earth, moss, and leaves
over it carefully, stood up, and looked at his sister."No stone in the hinge this time," he laughed, and his nice
grey-blue eyes were hard as flint. "I'll teach them."Peter was disturbed. She did not like the idea at all."Oh don't," she urged. "Besides, what if some one got caught who
didn't deserve it? Fancy if you smashed up Mitawawa, or Gijik? Come
on, pitch the horrible thing into the creek; bury it down a rock
crag--anything. It isn't decent war, that
kind of thing; it's simply brutal.""We've got to get Pegtop back. Here, take her feet on a bough;
we'll make a kind of stretcher." Jim ignored Peter's protest, and she
said no more--it would be no use at present. Jim was in one of his
real tempers, for he thought the world of little "Pegtop." She was his
special friend, and the devilish trick had roused feelings that would
not easily be soothed."I don't believe her leg is broken," declared the girl, as they
stepped carefully over the broken ground. "Sure it isn't. Look, Jim,
her foot is straight.""We can't be sure," the boy said. "Oh, what's happened to
what's-her-name? Is she at the shack?" He dropped his voice to a
whisper."All right! Whole show all right," whispered back Peter. "Jim,
don't you see now that it's those two men? They've been on our trail
all through. That Indian girl knew and warned us. Don't you see they
did this?"Jim was hard to convince as ever. "I don't see why they didn't
follow us up to the pine and jolly well pinch the gold then. If they
were hereabouts they must have seen us.""I see now; I see plain as the shack. Why, look here, Jim, they let us get the stuff down
because they didn't know where it was. Then when they believed we'd
got the whole lot they set that trap in the trail so that some one
would get caught and we should all stop--then they'd catch us
defenceless and get the gold easily. I--""Don't raise your voice, Pete," ordered Jim briskly.Pete dropped her tone again to a whisper. "What royal luck that
Mitawawa spoiled their game! I say, Jim, it was grand.""Well, Peggy's caught. She came by the old trail, poor old Pegtop!
We shall get held up, you know, Pete, for weeks. This is no play."Peter suddenly realized what that meant--guarding the gold in the
shack against desperate and quite unscrupulous men, with autumn and
frost coming on, and the terrific barrier of the winter trail between
them and home. The vision rose up like a great overwhelming
wave. Peter held her head up and faced it in silence; then she
said,--"Well, what will be will be, Jim. I don't
believe wicked men prosper really, you know. We shall win
through--somehow. We've got Mitawawa, and she's cute as a
beaver. Perhaps we'll find out where old Gijik's got to. He'll help us if we are in a real fix. Hullo!
here we are!"It seemed that the Indian girl was extremely far-seeing. Instead of
putting the sack in the cupboard as you might expect, she had taken
out the buckskin bags and lined the rim of a bunk all round with them,
spreading a blanket over all."Oh, moss--moss," said Peter. "It'll make a soft bed and cover all
this." She smiled at the silent Indian girl, and patted her on the
shoulder in friendly fashion. Mitawawa looked at them all three with
grave dignity; then she turned her attention to Peggy's leg.Peter knew something of these things. You will understand that
everybody must who lives hundreds of miles from a doctor, while the
Indians have their own methods and cures. It turned out that the small
bone of Peggy's leg was fractured, and for the rest there was a
terrible-looking bruise, and swollen flesh dinted with black holes
where the teeth had bitten. Mitawawa split from the lining of the
canoe a straight slip of cedar wood. With this they made a splint
padded with the bandages they had used for Jim, which were carefully
preserved. With balsam and gum they dressed the swellings, and just as
it was all over Peggy opened her eyes, stared at the ceiling, said, "What's the matter? Oh, my
leg!" and fainted again.Mitawawa made strong soup out of pemmican. Jim went out and cut
armfuls of caribou moss from the rocks at the back of the cabin. And
when the girl revived again she was more comfortable and her voice
stronger."I remember," she whispered to Peter. "Am I here for months? Oh,
how awful, Pete! Where's the gold? Was it lost? Who found me?"Peter gave a brief, low-voiced account. They had not seen any one,
no. She told her Jim had set the trap again. Peggy looked
distressed."He mustn't. It is perfectly frightful, Pete, when the thing goes
off. If it had not been for that stone I should have been simply
smashed into splints.""I know. Well, they wanted you to be smashed or killed--all one to
them, Peg; then they'd have rushed on and scooped up the gold, and
probably brained old Jim and me. They didn't care; they made sure we
should come back along our track with the dust." She paused; then
added, "So we should if we hadn't met Mitawawa. How odd it all
is.""Not odd," whispered Peggy, lying still
with closed eyes, "not a bit odd. Don't you see it is our Guardian
Angels, Pete--truly it is. We shall get through all right; they are
stronger than wicked men."Peter felt a sort of awe-stricken security at this idea. Peggy was
so good; she must be right. There was a picture of a Guardian Angel
over Dolly's bed at the Log House. She remembered it."But," murmured Peggy, "we oughtn't to set that bear-trap for
them. It's horrible." Then she dozed.Later on Jim came into the shack. He and Peter had supper together,
and gave a share to the Indian girl, who had done cooking and all
sorts of useful jobs with the noiseless efficiency of an Indian
woman. Peter asked her where Gijik was. She shook her head and made a
sweep of her arm suggesting distance."Him long trail," she explained, and that was all she had words
for. The rest was headshakes or nods and signs. When it was quite dark
she melted away into the night like a shadow. No doubt there was Mitsa
to be looked after, but obviously she felt that these three travellers
were very much her job.Jim refused to go to bed in another bunk. He could not get out of
his head that this deadly enemy might come to see how bad Peggy was. Peter felt that
too. She dozed with her head against Peggy's pillow. Hours wore on,
and the girl became feverish, asking for water and tea; weak tea she
begged for. Then suddenly she began to talk in a rapid, febrile
whisper."Pete, are you there?""Of course," Peter assured her."Pete, let them come, those men. Let them see I'm smashed. Let them
think I am much, much worse than I really am, and that I'll have to
stop here for months--till winter. Let them think we haven't got the
dust yet. Sure they'll see how the trail never got here. Then they'll
go away on hunts or looking for the gold. They don't know about
it--they only guess, they 'suspicion.' Make as though you and Jim had
just fixed up to set down here till I'm well and about. Then we'll
creep away. I shall get well soon; we'll get off and be miles on the
river trail before they know we've gone. Do you see, Pete? Tell old
Jim.""Jim heard what you said; he's here. That's a first-class notion of
yours, Pegtop. A regular inspiration, isn't it, Jim?" She made a sign
to her brother to agree at once."Don't you fret, Pegtop, we'll go for your notion," agreed the boy
warmly. "It's one of the best. Now you go to
sleep and mend up sharp."When the girl was dozing again Peter whispered, "How does it really
strike you for an idea?""Not sure. They are bound to try and find out about Peg and our
next move--whoever they are."Peter detected this reservation, and chuckled softly. "Oh, you'll
see who they are. But the more I think the more it seems to show us a
reasonable plan. If they think Pegtop is going to lie here till about
Christmas, you bet they won't stand outside our door the whole
while. They are bound to move about--" Having got so far, Peter gave a
little gasp."What?" Jim observed her face in the glow of the stove."Jim--that Cree! Don't you see they're bound to be on the move if
they are afraid of him?"Jim considered, looking back to the gulch on Slave River."They were afraid of him," he allowed.Peter snorted. "Don't you remember how they ran when you were hit?
Why, they were silly with fright."The boy sat still, his arms on the table and his gun loaded, close
to his fingers. Peter sat on
the bench with her head against Peggy, waiting and planning out
wonders of strategy. The nights were still short, but getting longer,
and before dawn there was always a faint chill and a clinging white
mist.Peter opened her eyes after a brief doze, because Raa in the open
doorway had risen to his feet. His ears were flattened, his lip
raised, and his strong fore-claws seemed to grip the ground.Peter looked at him and sat up with her eyes on the parchment
window opposite. A dark blur almost effaced it, as it was not
large--the shape of a man's head, the face pressing in the endeavour
to see. Peter glanced at Jim, who was sleeping soundly, and for the
moment a sick fear seized her that the man would shoot--then came the
sudden conviction that he would not till he was sure about the
treasure. Supposing he'd known that was in the bunk their lives
wouldn't have been worth the window pane.Boldly Peter stood up and went to the door, her hand on Raa's
head. The man saw her move, and appeared round the corner of the
shack. It was La Perle, the rat-faced half-breed. He looked at her, as
she leaned against the doorpost, with shifting, beady eyes.Intense satisfaction seized on Peter's mind that she had the "palaver" and start of Jim. He would wake,
but she'd got the lead!"You've nearly killed my sister, Louis La Perle, with your devilish
trap. It will be months before she can stand," said the girl hotly,
but in a low voice. "It would serve you right if I set Raa on
you.""Oh no, no, Mees Peter. What a peety to have shoot your Raa! Better
keep him, hein? It is mos' strange how your
sister is so hurt. Mos' str-r-range"--the r's rolled as Louis raised
his shoulders plaintively. "How can we know she come along? No one
come--only your sister, hey? There is bear in this creek. We want him
for meat. You see, there. Well, is your sister so bad, then? Can she
walk?""Walk!" There was a volume of meaning in Peter's scorn. "I told
you. We've got to get back to Log House before the trail freezes. We
promised mother we'd get some things Dad wanted her to have, and get
back smart.""Tom Lockhart he hide some dust up them rocks--we heard so." La
Perle's face became greedy and still meaner as he stared at the
girl. "That was talk on the Mackenzie, hein! He hide it mos'
careful. Come; shall you look for this stuff?"Peter found Jim at her elbow; his gun was in the bend of his
arm."If you think we are going gold-hunting, Louis La Perle, you've
made the mistake of your life. We've no notion of it. All we want is
to get my sister well and start off on the home trail. If you want to
dig for dust, go and do it. We shan't hinder you."Peter was singing in her mind. "Oh, Jim, you are splendid!"He seemed to have grown up on the instant. The realization that
these trappers were really the enemy, and their treatment of little
Pegtop, had awakened a new spirit in him. Of course, having a just
mind, he allowed they didn't know the victim would be Peggy; but still
Peter would have been as bad, and in the case of himself worse, so Jim
believed, as he was their natural protector.La Perle looked distrustful, then puzzled. You could see the
expression pass across his mean face. He didn't know what to believe,
or what to think of their journey, unless it was a treasure
trail. Affection played a very small part in the outlook of Louis La
Perle. He stood awhile, looking about in a downward kind of way,
kicking up the little pebbles with his toe, then he went, saying, "We
shall be mos' pleased to help, as you are in
trouble, so long we stop 'ere.""It was a lie about the bear," said Peter hotly. "I don't believe
that man ever tells the truth.""Probably not," allowed Jim gloomily. Then he added, "They'll stick
close, anyway.""Oh, something will happen," declared Peter. "It always does. What
about Pegtop's Guardian Angel? It's grand luck that she isn't smashed
to splinters; but we'll keep it up that she's bad--and it's true, she
is bad. Come and have breakfast, Jim. By the way, don't you notice the
kind of autumn smell in the air now, the first thing?"Jim agreed, but said he wished he didn't. It was getting on too
fast! Then he went off to bathe, with Raa in attendance.Days passed monotonously for a while, and to Peter, brave as she
was, it became a time of real trial, because poor Peggy could not be
left. She missed the hard exercise of the previous weeks, the constant
change of scene, and the deep sleep at nights. Instead, there was the
life of the shack, with the everlasting strain of the hidden gold dust
in Peggy's bunk, and the danger that the enemy might come on something
that would give them a clue.Neumann turned up soon after La Perle, pretended sympathy, regretted the trap "accident," as he
called it, and was inclined to pick up intimacy with Jim. Peter saw
with thankfulness that Jim was at last awake to danger. The appearance
of these trappers in the creek, for instance, apart from the warning
of Mitawawa and the bear trap, was enough to arouse question. Why
should they come? It was not their district, but Gijik's; and in any
case it was not the time of year for trapping. Pelts were not worth
the carrying.In those days Peter continued her development fast on the finest
lines. Night and day she faced the strain with a level head and cheery
patience. In old days it had been rather the rule for Peter to explode
when life was tire-some, and for the family to lean on Peggy. Now
Peggy, in the terrible pain and imprisonment that followed on the
smash, leaned on Peter, and never once found the prop fail. Jim was
splendid too, but a boy of seventeen can only stand a limited period
of sick-nursing and confinement, so he began to go farther afield with
the canoe--not for longer than hours, of course, but when you consider
the circumstances, even a few hours was rather a strain!Mitawawa came and went like a shadow. Always at dusk or
nightfall. Always she was cautious as a deer
coming down to drink. Peter got very fond of her, but the trouble was
that you cannot express your feelings or fears when the other person
does not understand! At the same time that constant dread of danger
prevented Peter from ever getting slack. She wanted to tell the Indian
girl that they were pretending Peggy was worse than she really was,
but it was altogether too complicated, and had to be left to
chance.Peggy was much better. Mitawawa took the cedar splint off, and
started a massage to bring back strength to the very thin little
limb. And the first time Peggy stood up, looking terribly white and
pinched, she exclaimed,--"Oh, Peter, the moose-maple! It is autumn."Peter had not told her that the cardinal red was showing in the
woods up the creek."Oh dear, we must go. We ought to start
now--at once," said Peggy, with the fretfulness of convalescence.The Indian girl grasped her meaning. She shook her head vigorously,
making a pantomime of cold and ice, of fur and wrappings. "Sled," she
spoke the one word. "Ninnymoosh" (dog) "yes.""She thinks we shan't take the trail till the ice is firm," said
Peter to Peggy, as she lifted her back into the bunk on to the fresh moss. "Hullo! Just in
time! Here's that lynx."Peter always called Neumann the lynx and La Perle the mink--the two
forest beasts she hated most.CHAPTER
XIVTHE "WHITEFISH" MOONPETER had not time to notice till afterwards that Mitawawa had
melted into the opposite bunk under the blankets! It was cleverly and
swiftly done."Hullo, Miss Peter! Hope your sister's mending," said the
trapper. He was in the doorway, because Raa had gone with Jim. "Jim on
the trail, hey?""Jim's fetching rabbits for supper. We want the skins, seeing what
a while we shall be held up, thanks to you." Peter was stiffly
defiant. "With luck, my sister may walk in a month or thereabouts. You
can't mend a smashed leg under six or seven weeks--at any rate in the
Wild."The man stared at her without answering, and Peter realized that he
was not interested in what she said, or even thinking about it. He
shifted uneasily on his feet, and tried to pierce the gloom of the hut with bloodshot eyes that had
a hunted look."Mr. Neumann," called Peggy, which made him start in fright, "look
round the door at me, and you'll see what a poor thing your trap made
of me."Peter did not like this, but she could not interfere very well, so
she stood aside and Neumann took a couple of steps within. Being
within, he glanced casually at Peggy's little pinched face. Whether
she was alive or dead was nothing to him, for his whole being was
centred on the gold dust--the treasure he was sure Tom Lockhart had
hidden before he got too ill to move.He gazed at the bunks and the cupboard, at the floor--everywhere;
and he noticed that the bunk under the window looked lumpy and
full. He took a step towards it, and Peter's heart gave a sick jump as
she thought of the Indian girl, for she knew this man would not think
twice about shooting her if he fancied her an enemy.In that uneasy moment came a swift diversion in the shape of Raa,
who ran into the hut and made for Neumann like a streak. The trapper
tried to "pull his gun," but as the wolf-dog went for his throat
instantly, he had no time to fulfil that object, but flung up his arm, and the dog hung on to it with
locked fangs. He was mad, clawing at the man with his hind feet and
ripping the leather as with knives.Peggy said nothing, because she had fainted. Mitawawa, under the
blankets, hoped for the end of the trapper, no doubt. Peter seized the
dog's collar and pulled with all her force so as to choke him
off. Then behind her came Jim's voice. He had heard the din of
conflict and sprinted. His strength, added to Peter's, dragged down
the dog."I'll make you pay--for this," gasped Neumann."What do you expect, man? It's your own fault. Once you ill-treat a
wolf-dog he's after you for life.""Look at my arm," said the trapper."Look at my sister," ordered Jim passionately, with an outflung
gesture. Peter gazed at him in a rapture of respect, for this new Jim
was after her own heart. With steely eyes, wide and fierce, he met the
man who had believed him only a boy. "Now then, walk, please. If you
come here you may expect to find the dog. I won't have you bullying my
sisters, see!"Neumann retreated, blood running from his torn arm down the rags of
sleeve. What he said under
his breath was no matter. When he was outside he checked at a sudden
call from Jim, who, it seemed, had remembered something forgotten at
first in the tempest of scuffle."Oh, I say, Mr. Neumann, isn't there a Cree on your trail? I seem
to remember something when I was shot, and you and La Perle made
tracks. Well, he's here. I've seen him this afternoon.""You're trying to scare me, you--" The trapper's voice grew
thin."Oh, well, as you like. He won't mind if you wait for him. He looks
as if he meant business--nothing sweet about him. He's got the Cree
paint--war-path rig--and he's got only one ear--lost the left
one. Perhaps you know something about that?"Neumann said no more. Of course he knew this was no scare, and he
knew, too, that he was up against a perfectly remorseless enemy whom
nothing but death could turn aside from revenge. It was no pleasant
feeling!Jim turned back into the hut, and as he did so Mitawawa slipped by
him and disappeared."That was narrow," said Peter. "He walked in and started looking at
the bunks and cupboard. He said nothing to Pegtop, but of course he saw that bunk looked
lumpy! Nearly as possible he found Mitawawa.""Does it matter?" asked her brother, taking a long breath and
passing his hands over his forehead. Truth to tell, Jim hated being at
enmity--he liked to be on good terms all round, and by nature he
believed in everybody.Peter said the girl did not wish to be seen helping them. As Gijik
was away she might suffer; that was obvious."Did you really see that Cree," she asked, "or were you bluffing to
make them go?"Jim sat down by the table, while the girl revived Peggy with strong
tea, and proceeded to tell them both his adventure."Where do you think he was, Pete?" Here Jim broke sticks for the
stove, and laid out a fine row of fish in the pan."Haven't a notion.""Well, on the top of the Bear Rock.""What! Why, though, was he standing up there?""You bet he wasn't standing--he was lying flat like those chaps
do. Must have seen me, but he took no notice. You see I'd come up from
the canoe with Raa, just to see what those fellows were doing with
their bear-trap and such like. I was looking on the ground mostly, and then something made me look
up--you know the feeling, Pete?"The girl assented. She was eager."Well, there at the edge of the rock was a head, enough to give you
dreams. Just that queer, wicked head the Indians have when they're
feeling bad. Band round the forehead, and hatchet face set like a
carved image! He was looking down into the creek, over the
brushwood. As I said, he took no notice of me. By the way, shows he
never did shoot at me, Pete!""Of course not," agreed his sister. "Go on.""Well, nothing really. He was looking--looking over the wood down
to the water; just alert--like you'd stalk a caribou. They are about
the most sensitive things for knowledge. There was light enough for me
to see he had no ear. I was on that side, you see, and his hair fell
forward. He moved like a mink or a fisher-cat. He seemed to flow when he drew back. Wonderful chaps, those
Indians. Why, we tramp like elephants compared to them--that is, if
elephants do tramp; bison do, anyway! Well, there he is, and I'll be
surprised if he doesn't get those two before long. They can't find his
trail--no one can. Best they can do is to vamoose and put a few
hundred miles between. Not that
it matters. He'll have them in the end."Peter's mind thrilled to this strange story. She was not sorry for
those trappers, but the duel between these men of the Wild filled her
imagination. She said nothing, but the awakened Peggy, pulled up on to
her moss pillow, said quite cheerfully,--"If they go, we can go. I shall be tough in three weeks. Pete, let
me practise every day round the table, to start, and then outside with
crutches. Let's get off soon. We shall leave no trail on the
water."A burst of sunshine lightened life. The Log House seemed
close. "What a triumph," Peter said; but she had not forgotten
Mitawawa, and the recollection of her decided opposition was
haunting. "She thought Neumann would be here, and catch us," Peter
persuaded herself. Then she went to sleep.Surely new strength was put into Peggy. She practised vigorously,
and swallowed all the deer-meat broth Peter made for her, while they
both became busy as bees lining their spare moccasins with rabbit fur,
making waist-coats and caps of hare-skin, pressing pemmican, drying
whitefish--more especially for Raa. Everything they could think of in
a simple way they made--mittens, as the big gauntlet gloves are called, and sleeping bags
lined with hare-skins."We shall be as warm as possible," declared Peter gaily, and the
others agreed; the only bother they could see was the weight of the
porterage when they had to skirt rapids and the canons in Slave
River."We can carry half, and cache half and go back for it," suggested
Peggy. So all was very well.They were so busy that they did not take much notice of the
weather, except that it was very still. Every tree and bush seemed to
be holding its breath, waiting. The colours of the woods were flames
of gold and tan, with scarlet and crimson standing out on the blackish
green of the pines.Peggy was so much better that she helped pack the canoe. They left
the gold till last--it must go with them. They felt safe, after a
fashion, as the trappers and their pursuer had gone."Fancy October," said Peter, on that last night by the stove. "When
we came we thought we should start back within the week at latest. We
shall find it cold before we are far on, Jim, shan't we?"When her brother nodded she went on,--"Mitawawa seems pretty glum about it. She just says 'No, no--freeze,' but
what she wants us to do I
can't imagine. We don't see our way to camping here till next April!
My word! it would drive mother desperate. No good trying to explain
either."Everything they could spare they gave to the Indian girl, but all
the while she was perturbed. She had never been able to explain about
Gijik, so that remained cloudy too. She stood looking after them when
they pushed off into the creek with a perfectly immobile face."Wonder if we shall ever see her again, dear little kind
Mitawawa. She's like a spotted doe," said Peggy, rather tearful.Then they were off off on the back trail! Along the border of the
creek was a scum of thin ice, and all the while dry dead leaves
floated down off the overhanging boughs and lay on the water, drifting
slowly."Whitefish Moon," murmured Peter in a low voice. "Well, we've got
enough for old Raa, and we can always catch more."Jim said nothing; he was noting the ice and the slow, impeded
trickle of little streamlets. All the world was going to be locked up
soon, and he was uneasy.Out in Crooked River there was freedom, and more force in the
current, but thin sheets of
ice were carried by it, and presently, when they came to the beaver
colony, they found the wide, shallow swamp almost coated over, and
most of the beavers out of sight. Everywhere the stillness oppressed
them; it was as though all the world were listening for and watching
their movements. But they got on pretty well, as the sharp prow of the
canoe pushed aside the ice, or broke it because of the thinness, and
the stream was with them.They landed for two rests that day, because of Peggy, and when they
got to the opening into Great Slave Lake they went ashore for the
night. Instantly Jim and Peter started making a sort of tepee with
boughs, poles, and tarpaulin, for Peggy must be protected. She was
very tired--worn out with the arm and back work, and the stiff
position. In the night she had cramp and cried with pain, so they
stayed under the little hut for two more days and nights, catching
whitefish and waiting with all the patience possible. It was a great
strain, that delay. They began to see Mitawawa's point of view now!
But they determined that nothing should stop them from putting the
Great Slave Lake between themselves and the trappers. The gold in the
canoe haunted them. How could they defend it?In the night came frosts that made cracks sound like shots, and all the while the dead
leaves fell and the rest was utter stillness. On the third day they
launched the canoe at dawn with frozen fingers. The nights were longer
now. The one person who minded not at all was Raa, whose fine rough
and bushy tail was putting on its winter beauty. Frost he loved."It will be much warmer when the sun shines," said Peter, cheerful
as usual.Jim said nothing."We'll get across in the one day," Peggy told them. "We did before;
why not now?"So they started, and at first made some way between the ice
islands, but as they drew out from the shelter of the high land the
difficulty grew and grew. They could not break through; they had to go
round, to find channels, to make the most of currents from this or
that river. They knew them, because mush ice floated down on them and
stuck to the lake ice, making it more and more of a barrier.Then Jim got out the axe. He chopped and pushed, pushed and
chopped. They ate "jerky," and the cold grew and grew, till presently
Jim gave up chopping and they sat still in the gathering foggy
chill--silent, overwhelmed with despair."I might get out and pull--over the ice," said Jim.Then Peggy got desperate. "You'd fall through. Pete and I should
die in the night." Her voice trembled."He shall not do it, dear old Pegtop," Pete assured her. "We've got
food, and we must wait here till the ice is firm, and then we'll lift
the canoe on to it and pull across. We can harness Raa. Now don't be
sad."She spoke so, but guessed they could not stand the cold; surely not
Peggy, who was of poor vitality since the accident. Already she was
sleepy and half-stupid. Peter unrolled blankets and the tarpaulin; she
forced the big lined moccasins over Peggy's; but hot food was
impossible. They had no stove--a common property with
travellers--having cut down the pack as close as possible, because it
was going to be a summer trail!Peter looked longingly at the shore near Crooked River. They had
come about a mile that day, she thought, hardly more; and there they
were, stuck out in the ice, helpless for the enemy to see and
capture--with the dust in the canoe. Never in her life had Peter felt
so depressed, but she did not show it; she cheered the sleepy Peggy,
trying to keep her awake.Then the moon came up, round and coppery in tint, the Indians'
"Whitefish Moon," and all over the desolate ice-sealed lake the
mysterious light swept in a flow. It was very wonderful.Then Jim spoke. "Some one coming out from Crooked River--a
canoe."Peggy's eyes widened with fear. "Neumann?" she jerked out."If it is, I'll shoot him on the spot," said Jim in a
matter-of-fact voice. "Let's watch." Jim and Peter spoke together
presently."It's an Indian; he's smashing through--strong man.""Is it that Cree? Does he think we are the
trappers?" asked Peggy.Then Peter laughed. "Pegtop, I hate Neumann, but I'll allow he
wouldn't be such a wild goose as to get frozen in the Great Slave
Lake! But it may be the Cree crossing over after those men. He may
have just found out where they've gone."The Indian canoe came along forcing a path, crashing the ice with
blows of an axe, or tomahawk, and then driving ahead."Gijik!" said Peter suddenly. And so immense
was the relief, after suppressed suffering, that she wanted to
cry.Peggy did cry."Hullo, Chief!" Jim spoke, but his voice was quiet.Gijik looked at them and said, "Huh!" a sort of grunt. In another
minute he burst through to the bow of their canoe, making a sweep to
do it. Then he attached a moose-hide rope to it, and glanced at
Jim. "My white brother is not wise," he said in his very deep
voice. "The Whitefish Moon is no time for the water trail." And in a
flash it was done--the return journey started. It was plain that he
wanted to use the passage he had made in coming before it froze.Jim and Peter seized paddles, and the latter forced one on
Peggy."Work, Pegtop. It will warm you," she urged.In the wake of Gijik's canoe the second one made good way, and the
three became new creatures."It's a pity we have to go back, though," said Peggy, behind
Peter."We'll be all right--he knows," answered Peter; and admired the
moon, the scenery, and the Cedar's splendid shoulders.They got back quite quickly, and were surprised to find that the
Ojibway did not mean them to stay on the shore. He divided the pack,
giving the empty canoe to Jim and taking the treasure as his own share, with a few other
trifles! Then he led the way back into the woods, but parallel with
the river, and presently Peter realized that they were making for the
beavers' swamp. Here was not open woods, but a mass of close-grown
brushwood and "dead-falls," as trees are called which collapse from
age, storms, or rot. The place was like a maze, and Peter quickly
realized that the swamp marsh under-foot was frozen beneath and round
the tough grass and rushes.In and in they went, one behind the other, till they were
completely surrounded by "dead-falls" that had put out shoots and
grown branches, till they became the thickest possible shelter."Huh," said Gijik, and threw down his load. After that he proceeded
to make a hut within this "Sleeping Beauty Maze," to light a fire, and
to obliterate all traces of their arrival. He worked like a giant, and
then accepted tea, food, and tobacco--but all the time they could see
he was listening like a caribou.It seemed presently that he was reassured, for he told Jim that he
had been away on a mission up Mackenzie River. He had made haste, but
got back in time only to hear of their foolish effort from Mitawawa. He knew about the
bear-trap, and was apparently quite unmoved, as that was what you must
expect from "bad hearts."He ordered them to stay where they were till he came, and not
betray themselves in any way. He would come when the ice-trail was
ready and bring a sled, and dogs--the only possible way to get back
over frozen lakes and rivers. He explained with flashes of his
deep-set eyes that the trappers might come back to the shack, but
owing to the mishap of their canoe venture the trail would be lost. They would think the travellers had got away before the lake froze, and probably they would go on to Athabasca and farther still. The scent would be confused and thrown out.
This and more Gijik told them in short, broken sentences, as he found
words. The rest he filled up with Ojibway, of which Jim had learned a
good many idioms from old Hearne, who liked the tribe. It was easy to
understand Gijik, because he had talked much with "white brothers,"
and found them friends--as a rule! He was not shy like his squaw, who
hid herself when trappers appeared.Earnestly he warned them not to leave the swamp, or let the dog
stray; not to fire a shot,
unless to save their lives and to bury the gold dust till he
came. Then Jim pressed on him gold enough to pay for five dogs, at
perhaps eighty dollars apiece, and a sled. Gold was of no use to Gijik
in the Wild, because he made all he wanted--except fire-arms but it
was easier to get things quickly if you could pay. That he knew.Then he went, lithe and secret, leaving no footmarks, and the
three, swiftly and neatly, buried the treasure close to their big
dead-fall. They then cached the canoe under another, filling up with
mud and reeds. And, thankful beyond speech, they slid into their
fur-lined bags--that is to say, bags made with the pelt inwards and
skin out--rolled into blankets, and slept and slept as they had never
done in the shack."No need to get up very early," murmured Peggy.Peter answered, "Pegtop, what about that Angel! Seems he was awake
to-night."Peggy gurgled. Jim said nothing. He was thinking about Gijik's
pluck and strength.CHAPTER
XVTHE FROZEN SWAMPTHE three obeyed Gijik literally. They did not go outside the
confines of the frozen swamp, and made each move with caution. It was
hard luck, because nearly three weeks elapsed before they were set
free to go on. They comforted themselves with the certainty that this
was good for Peggy; that it would allow the enemy to get well ahead,
or to search the Crooked River Creek in vain, whichever they elected
to do; and finally that, as you could not use the ice trail, it was
good to be in this beaver country.Peter saw a bright side in every direction. So did Peggy as she
became herself again and lost the last traces of weakness. Jim, always
a philosopher, spent his time trapping, and in this connection it
occurred to the girls to line their blankets with rabbit pelts--not
very heavy, and immensely warmer. True, they were not the best skins, nor cured in the most perfect
fashion, but they would last for the journey home. This kept all
busy.It has been said they were cautious. So they were, very, for the
first week or ten days; but they became freer as the days went by in
peace, and the cold made them need to take harder exercise. They
laughed and talked more loudly, they penetrated to the shore near the
beaver dam, and fished through holes in the ice--indeed they set a
net-trap, which was not very wise, as it might easily have been
seen. In the wilds every traveller is full of eyes and ears, and
learns to watch and listen as the creatures do.Then the most unexpected thing happened, that awaked in them again
all the old alertness and sense of danger.Jim had gone down to the shore after whitefish, and there he was
held by the interesting sight of a cow-moose standing on the bank
calling. Jim had never before seen this big, ungainly creature with a
head like a huge hammer. A very ugly head it is, but the eyes are soft
and beautiful. With her great feet she had broken some rim ice. She
drank a little, nibbled leaves, and then sent out her curious hooting
call to ice and woods. It was not long before she was answered by the
roar of a bull-moose, which
is a terrific booming, in blasts like a great bellows.Jim was much excited. He simply longed to shoot the bull and have
its antlers, but knew he must not--besides, how convey the prize? He
could only picture how they would look in the big living-room at Log
House. That was as far as he would allow himself to go.At the same time the two girls heard the roars. They were in the
swamp doing their best to make a really interesting supper--not an
easy thing to do in these days of very small supplies. Nothing but tea
remained of the original pack, and you could not buy more, of
course. They stood up, stared at one another with shining eyes, and,
leaving the fire, crept through the dense maze towards the sound. They
knew it was a bull-moose, but they had never seen one close as yet,
for this magnificent species of deer does not come within reach of
settlements or homesteads unless it is driven by wolves in
mid-winter.Evidently he was not trying to hide his presence, for he crashed
and trampled close to the two girls, cracking the surface ice on the
marsh. Then came the excitement.There was a thrashing sound in the bushes, and a moment after
appeared another bull, bigger, and
so, of course, older, with great antlers like huge spreading fans,
most splendid to see; but he was rather too old, which the girls did
not know, his height making them think he was quite all-powerful. In a
moment he rushed at the younger bull, and the fight that followed was
a sight to remember always. The stamping, grunting, and crashing, the
rattling of horns and hard breathing seemed to the sisters to fill the
whole earth.They got behind a dead-fall, crouched in the ambuscade of its mass
of twisted boughs, and looked on, shivering. The two bulls had met
head to head, locked antlers, and there they were!--pushing and
straining each to overthrow the other or to get free. The old one was
heavier, and drove the other back and back, but the younger one had
more power really, and presently that began to tell, because there was
a note of effort and exhaustion in the big bull's gruntings, and his
head was forced sideways. The girls realized that his neck would
perhaps be broken, or he would fall over.Peter cried excitedly in Peggy's ear, "How will he get free? He
can't--any way!"Peggy gasped in return, "Oh, poor things, why do they do it?"Then there was a sound like the crack of a gun, and one of the big bull's antlers fell off. The
young one was free, and he made use of his freedom by rushing at the
other, who was dazed, hitting him in the flank and knocking him over;
then he jumped on him, with fearful, smashing blows of his great splay
fore-feet, and then he lifted his head and roared again."You horrid, boastful brute!" said Peggy hotly. "It wasn't his fault his horn came off. I say, Pete, do you
remember the fight we saw in the gulch--catamount and lynx fight?
Those two killed each other clean away. My word! what awful fights
these forest creatures have!"She had not finished whispering these rapid words, when close to
them sounded the loud explosion of a gun.Not Jim! Oh dear no! It was a trade gun, and fired only a yard or
two from the triumphant moose. The bull staggered, swung round, and
swept his great horns sideways to meet this new enemy. A trickle of
blood ran down his shoulders.There was an interval long enough for reloading and then another
explosion. He was hit in the chest, fell to his knees, struggled up,
stumbled a few steps, and fell again. Both of them lay still.From a dense, low-growing spruce copse close to the sisters stepped an Indian. He went over to the
two huge animals and killed the one he had shot. The other had had its
life stamped out of it. Then he proceeded to skin one and cut it
up.The sisters were simply paralyzed with horror. It was the Cree!They crouched down behind the tree trunk, not daring to go away,
and in both their minds the first thought was, "If the Indian is here,
then what about the trappers?" But the Cree had not the appearance of
a watcher."He would not fire if they were near," Peter whispered
reassuringly, and had hardly done speaking when a further complication
arose which froze the answer on Peggy's tongue.Jim appeared. He crept from a dense thicket--plainly returning to
see what the noise was about--and stepped out into the space trampled
down by the fighting moose. Intent on the idea in his mind, he had not
realized the Cree till too late. Then he stood gazing at the man who
was kneeling by the moose, very busy. It was no use trying to hide
after showing himself, so Jim bluffed it out after turning very
red. In truth, he was actually angry at having done such an incautious
thing. He knew that an experienced hunter would have laughed at
him."Bo' jou'," he said amiably. "I see my brother is a very great
hunter. He has killed two bull-moose. He is a fine shot. All the Crees
on the Missinnippi River will hear of this, and tell the story in the
wigwams."This was a good beginning, because Indians are so vain, even the
best, that they are delighted with flattery. In this case the Cree did
not say he'd only shot one moose; two sounded better than one. He
grunted in answer, but did not seem at all quarrelsome.Jim went up close, talked to him a little, and admired the size of
the big bull. Then he went away to the camp, and, returning in ten or
fifteen minutes, offered the Cree some tobacco--almost the last they
had, by the way.It was obvious then that he was pleased. In this wilderness he
would have nothing of the kind. The settlement was months behind
now.His beady, deep-set black eyes glanced from Jim to the dead-fall
behind which the girls were hiding. He knew they were there, just as
an Indian knows everything in the woods, and he wasn't sure whether
Jim knew also, or whether it was in some way a plot to deceive him
into some acknowledgment of his aim. However, he said nothing either
way, but presently went off with a load of moose meat, which he
carried on his back with ease.Then the girls came out, and the three looked at one another in
rather a subdued manner."Last thing one expected," said Peter."But he won't matter, in a way," argued Peggy. "Don't you think he
is waiting, like we are, for the ice trail? Much easier to follow with
snowshoes on the rivers--a quarter the work. He didn't look quite so
venomous, Jim, did he?"Jim agreed. "All the same he sure lives up to his name. Don't you
remember that old chap the Owl called him 'Kee-way-din'--the North
Wind. He's just about as frosty company. Sorry he killed both those
moose. What's the good? Too much meat, except for a tribe.""He didn't," said Peter. "The young one killed the big one--broke
his antler off and then rushed him down and trampled him. Then the
Cree crawled out of that spruce copse and shot the young one. Jim, he
really couldn't have missed; his muzzle was about a yard from the poor
brute's flank.""I don't wonder he hasn't killed Neumann yet," remarked Peggy in
her placid voice. "Do you know, Pete, I think those men are fairly
safe.""Afraid they are," allowed Peter murderously."No, they're not," Jim said. "They would be, perhaps, if this chap
wasn't an Indian. I mean, he'd get tired and get off on some new
notion. But these men never let up till they've done what they set out
to do. I know I wouldn't be in Neumann's shoes; he knows what he's in
for, and that's why he's so frightened. Why, he's just blind with
fright.""Well, he shouldn't have done it--whatever it was," said Peggy in
her severest tone. "Treat them decently, and
they'll do the same to you. Dad always said so.""I rather wonder how long that Cree has been haunting our swamp,
all the same," Peter said as they went back through the dusk to the
camp and Raa, who was leashed up near the buried gold as a precaution;
"and I wonder how much Gijik knows about him?"They wondered lots of things; but there was no one to give an
answer, though one satisfaction was rather self-evident. Neumann could
not be in the swamp if the Cree was, and if he came he would die like
the bull moose!For the rest, the three stayed very near camp after that. They had
had a warning as to possibilities, and did not want Gijik to come
suddenly and find them acting in "tenderfoot" fashion after their
amazing experiences. In those
waiting days they did all they could think of to help on the journey
that was coming, but in the main it was an exercise of patience. Every
now and then Peter would say in a burst of anxiety, "Sure I hope the
Cedar won't so-and-so," and then they'd all discuss it and wish they'd
told him."After all, he's only an Indian," Peggy lamented."Well, an Indian knows more about the needs of the winter trail
than you do," Jim told her; which was so true that they were
comforted.As for the Cree, he must have fetched away the whole of his moose
meat, but when or how they did not see. In the night, perhaps. Peter
was on thorns to know how he would eat it all."Eat it!" Jim's echo was scornful. "Isn't winter ahead? He'll make
a cache with the most part. Safe enough, they know; cover it up from
coyotes or foxes, and it will freeze directly through and through hard
as ice. Then he'll fetch it when he's on this trail. Why, an Indian
wouldn't think much of coming thirty or forty miles in a day for it;
he may be hard up for meat in winter. They starve in their lodges
sometimes.""Hark!" Peter whispered, with eager excitement.Then all three jumped up. Through the mist and cold of the frozen
swamp came a sound. At last, a new sound--from far off, and from the
north, they fancied, listening with strained hearing.But nothing happened, and all their faces fell. Another night, and
no news!"I could have sworn it was dogs," said Jim.The girls answered nothing, because they were disappointed, and did
not want to show it."Let's have extra supper and cheer up," urged Peggy. "See, the hare
Jim trapped. Let's do it to-night. How much would you give for
potatoes, Peter--one of all the bags of dust, eh?"So they forgot the disappointment, and thought about the hare and
beans, and in that moment Gijik appeared out of the shadows and stood
in the circle of firelight."Bo' jou'," he said, in his very deep voice, even and quiet.Peter said later she longed to slap him on the back."He'd be horribly offended," Peggy told her. "Jim might,
perhaps--I'm not sure. But a woman! Just fancy a squaw smacking a
Brave on the back! It's not done, my dear, that's sure."Anyhow, there he was, and the rest was very exciting, very exciting indeed, for he wanted them to
cross the lake that night and camp on the other side.He had brought a sled--a toboggan sled of the sort run on Mackenzie
River--and five dogs. He had muzzled the dogs to stop them from
barking when they scented Raa. At this point Peggy and Peter looked at
one another with meaning. This was why they'd heard a sound so
suddenly stifled.The Ojibway proposed that he should break camp, dig up and take
away the treasure, while they ate and got ready for the flight. From
what he said they gathered that he wanted them to cross the lake under
cover of dark. On the river beyond they would be less exposed, and
could take shelter on shore if necessary.It is probable that the hare mattered less than they had expected;
but it was an excellent meal to start on, and they rather liked the
idea of this night rush after the life of comparative
inaction. Gijik's way of breaking camp was amazingly swift and
complete he carried so much at a time. When he returned from his first
journey he brought three pair of snowshoes. He said he and Mitawawa
made them in the summer, and dried them in the sun, so that the wood
didn't warp. They were the
same shape that the Lockharts were used to, pointed at both
ends. There was snow enough on the ice to make fair travelling. It had
seemed very little to the watchers in the frozen swamp, falling in a
quiet way and then ceasing; but the growing cold and the iron frosts
at night prevented any thaw--no more thaws now till spring, only the
cold, bitter grip of intensifying winter till all the world seemed
dead that was ahead of them now.It was dark, but light enough for them to see, because of the
stars. Peggy's teeth chattered as she slipped her feet into the loops
of the snowshoes. Both girls whispered because of the stillness, and
the two men spoke very little as they lashed the cover down over the
neatly packed sled. When Raa appeared there had, of course, been a
pitched battle. The others fought him and one another in a tangle of
flying snow and harness; but it did not last long under the skilful
use of Gijik's whip, and left no marks, as they had muzzles on.In ten minutes there were four little black dots moving swiftly
with bent heads--the black smudge of the load and the string of six
trotting dogs, their breath smoking on the air. That was all the sign
of human life in the white, frozen world.Gijik led and packed the trail--that is, he trod strongly down the
soft snow ahead of the dogs, and made it easier for them. Jim drove,
going level with the teams, and driving by voice and whip. Raa knew
all the calls, and the work of the team was joy to him. As leader it
was his business to make the other dogs obey too.Mush meant "go ahead"; Hu, "bend to the right"; Chac, "turn to the
left," and so on, according as there might be humps on the ice or
obstacles in the direct line.Team dogs are wonderful creatures. After some years of it they will
die of grief when not allowed to do their part on the trail. But to
the end they are wild and savage.In the terrible black, still cold that comes before dawn the little
party came in sight of the south shores of the Great Slave. All the
last ice was rough and hummocky; it had been blown so in the gales
from the north--thin ice piled up on other ice, making lumps and
ridges. The last straw of effort for wearied bodies! Only Gijik took
no account of these things, and Jim copied him in everything, refusing
to betray his exhaustion. An end comes to every strain, fortunately,
and presently the three found themselves making camp in a thick copse
of spruce fir.That was the plan. To rest all day and the following night, and
leave early for the river run on the morning after. Jim and Peter
settled this, because Peggy was suffering from cramp in the leg
muscles, and the effort of using snowshoes was a great strain on
her. To the Cedar such a delay was foolishness; but he said nothing,
of course. Besides, it concerned him not at all, as he was going
back.This discovery was in the way of a shock to the girls. They had
hoped he would come as far as Deer Lake at least. Jim asked him,
offered to pay him, but it was no use. He'd got his winter business
waiting, his wife and child alone up in his district beyond Crooked
River Creek, and from his point of view they had discharged their debt
of honour to Tom Lockhart for the kindness to themselves and little
Mitsa. It is quite possible that Gijik believed the Cree would account
for the trappers, the undying spirit of revenge in that very
embittered person being a shield of value. However that may be, the
parting of the ways was come, and the three said farewell with grief,
begging the tall chief to come to the Log House when business should
bring him so far south.Then Jim gave him gold dust enough to buy a Winchester rifle. At first he refused, but the
temptation was too great. Upon the Mackenzie River in the ensuing
winter many a rifle would change hands among men who had gambled away
their diggings. The Ojibway knew all this as well as Jim."Don't go to the traders, Chief," said the boy, smiling; "they'll
sell you rotten fire-arms. You go for the best and you'll get
it. Can't you lay hold of a good gun at Fort Resolution? Try the
Mounted Police, hey?""Huh!" ejaculated the tall man, and the gleam in his deep-set eyes
showed that the suggestion was good to him."And, Chief," said Peter, "if you see Pierre Corraine, tell him we
are on the trail home. Tell him what you like; he's sure a safe
friend."Gijik nodded. "Corraine good heart--very good," he said.Five minutes after that the tall, splendid man of the woods was
disappearing over the ice to the westward.Jim laughed. "Good old Cedar," he said. "Look, he's jolly well
going to make a try for his gun at Fort Resolution before he goes
home. He'll be as proud as a puppy with two tails for the rest of his
life. Expect he'll be able to trade one; he's a fine chap.""I hope he meets Pierre Corraine," said Peter.Peggy said nothing; perhaps she thought the more. Then they got
busy. They scraped the snow outside with their snowshoes till a
cleared space was made for the fire; they turned the sledge on its
side; then, anchoring the dogs, they fed them with two whitefish each
because they had had to pull all night instead of sleeping; and they
cooked for themselves frozen deer meat which the Indian had brought on
the sledge. Then they changed into different stockings and moccasins,
hung the damp ones on sticks near the fire, and, rolled in their bags
covered with blankets, they all three fell asleep.Apart from their curious sojourn in the beavers' swamp, it was the
first time they had made camp in the snow. But because it was day they
woke early in the afternoon, made another meal, and sat round the fire
talking over plans and making friends with the dogs."I feel topsy-turvy somehow," said Peggy, sighing as she rubbed the
muscles of her shins."Wonder what we shall feel in a week--in a month?" said
Peter. "I've a feeling--""What?"But Peter refused to say.CHAPTER
XVIWHY THE MOOSE WAS NOT SHOTWITHIN a week the three were broken to harness as it were, and the
daily grind had become a thing understood.There had been daily grind on the summer trail, especially when it
included land porterage, but this was a very different matter. There
was no fun at all in it. Every bit of strength in mind and body was
wanted to support the winter trail work, so that it should be faced
with patience, good temper, and courage.From that start in the bleak, black dawn, with stars fading and
every twig seeming to hold its breath in cold, with frozen, clumsy
fingers and still weary limbs, to have to break camp and pack up,
starting off on another day of driving dogs and overcoming obstacles,
and to go on till the freezing dusk forced them into some
likely-looking shelter on the river bank, and there--tired to
death--search their strength
for a last effort to make yet another camp, a fire, a supper--always
the same supper now--and at last sleep. That was winter trail. There
was nearly always wind, too, though fortunately it came from the
north, and so was behind them; but it cut through the leafless woods,
and obliged them to pick camping-places shielded from its knife-like
cut, otherwise they ran a danger of frost-bitten faces as well as
hands.In those waiting days at the swamp they had made hoods out of
rabbit skins and sewn them to the collars of their blanket
coats. These they wore drawn close round their faces, and the damp of
their breathing froze to the fur in ice.Truly it was winter. They had no more dreamed than their mother had
when she let them go that the treasure trail would lead them into
this. But as they were in it all three braced themselves to bear it
and the very awful strain of the incessant little sufferings that
never ceased. They thought, by the way, that it could not possibly be
worse. So they had a great deal to learn yet.Now they had kept all the way on the east side of the river, and
because of this came to the creek of the old gulch where Jim had been
laid up. There it was, just as it had been, only in winter dress, and they got there about the
time of the midday rest, having had a hard spell of work since
dawn.Peter, who was always irrepressible, suddenly announced that she
should just run up the creek and see if the darling balsam hut was
still there. She said she wanted to look at the graves of the lynx and
the catamount. Peggy shook her head when she was asked. She said rest
was valuable. Jim also shook his head."And don't be long," he urged. "We ought to get up to the lake
to-night. I'm keen on it. Start across and do it in one day to the
south side, and then along the shore."Peter nodded and went, and she was about half an hour gone. When
she appeared she was running, and in her hand she carried a small
rifle, which she waved in an excited manner.The other two were ready to start, and Jim was impatient. When he
saw the rifle he stared, frowned, and looked questioningly at
Peggy. She divined on the instant."Oh, mad!" gasped Peggy. "Don't you see--"Then Peter was with them, explaining herself."I got to our hut and it was empty, but some one was using it for camping. Jolly nice, much too
nice for them. I just looked in, and I saw this
on one bed. Beasts! How dare they! So I took it and came away. If
there'd been any more guns I'd have thrown them in the snow and
trodden them in. Well, anyway we've got this."It was the Winchester with the deep-cut initials "T. L."Jim looked from his sister to the rifle, and his face seemed to
freeze into utter dismay."Well," he said, "you've done us in earnest this time, Pete.""It's ours. It was Dad's; we know it was, don't we, Pegtop?""They might have bought it of Dad, you know," murmured Peggy
uneasily, "but apart from that it is--a fearfully dangerous thing to
do. Why, don't you see it tells them we are here to-day. Oh,
Pete!"Peter flushed uneasily. She had seized the gun on the spur of
impulse, and now saw there were two sides to the matter."It needn't be us, Pegtop. Any one would steal a gun; certainly the
Cree would. Why, they'll think it was the Cree, and be scared
stiff. Anyway, we've got Dad's little rifle Come on, I'll stick it
into the pack straps."She did, and the party started off, a little reassured, perhaps, by this point of view, but
horribly uneasy, for even Peter now had qualms, though she would not
have allowed that.It was fair going, and the rest of that day they drove like the
wind behind them, camping at the point in a sheltered cove on the lake
shore. Peggy, tired as she was, wanted to go on straight, as they'd
done across Great Slave. She had a feverish desire to put the lake
between them and the camp on the gulch, but Jim would not. He said it
was no use wearing themselves out at the start, and Peter suggested
that more than likely the men had gone to the Fort for supplies and
tobacco, and left the rifle in a dry, isolated place because they were
afraid to meet men who knew it. This was so probable that Jim and
Peggy were eased. Both of them knew that weapons got to be known, like
horses, among hunters and trappers in a land where they were more
valuable than anything except, perhaps, dogs, which could not pass
from hand to hand without its being known--if they were of the
best.So they made camp in the cove, and went off again in the grey,
biting dawn out and away on to the white lake, without a sound in the
freezing world. Later, when the sun came up over the heights, and the
snow was a foreground of crystals backed by pink, amber, and mauve, they felt happy and
high-spirited; they even began counting the lakes and points of the
trail ahead.It was good going. Probably this lovely lake was more sheltered
than Great Slave. The freezing wind was behind them, and they rushed
along, the dogs' bushy tails blowing over their own backs, and their
pretty ruffs standing up round their strong necks.In a week the practice of snowshoe trail had come back to them. Jim
broke trail, going steadily ahead towards the far south line of
heights and pine tops. The girls took turns--while one was at the
gee-pole at the back which steers the toboggan, her sister ran
alongside with the dog whip to prevent the team from quarrelling. And
they got across in the day, landing tired but triumphant.There was no sign of pursuit. To all appearance the lake was their
own, for neither sight nor sound of human life broke the frozen
stillness.Hide it as they tried from one another, there was during those next
days a feeling of keen anxiety about pursuit. Each one looked back
when the others were busy, watched for far-away black spots on the
great field of snow in fear and trembling; then, as nothing happened
to increase this dread, they all began to breathe more easily, and to lose the scared feeling.One thing is sure. Perhaps for the first time in her life Peter
wished her impulsive act undone. That was something gained when you
come to think, for, though rapid action may be extremely important on
occasion, a cool judgment in the first place is still more so. You
ought to be very sure your rapid action is wise.When the party reached the river that joined up Athabasca with
Wollaston they had regained their normal state of mind, and were able
to give themselves up to the battle against a storm that now swept
upon them in full force; snow and wind of the fiercest--a regular
blizzard. They could not go on; they drew in to the bank on the
western side and fought their way through it, looking for a sheltered
opening to camp in.They were on the opposite side to the shore they had travelled when
hunting for the canoe. It was strange to see it in such different
conditions--there across the hummocky ice of rocks and rapids, banks
and streams, that made up this bit of river.Every way came the awful tearing wind, whirling snow round in
spirals and screeching in the bare tree tops."This'll do here. Hu, Raa," and the big dog
swerved to the right, leading the team, and struggled up the snow-bank
at Jim's call. Bumping and rocking, the sledge was hauled up over the
uneven ground and the tangle of scrub Jim was smashing down. Peggy at
the gee-pole was helping behind, and Peter, with the team, running
alongside. Suddenly she gave a cry of dismay, and Peggy saw her sink
and plunge to one side as her leg went through the top snow and thin
ice over some bubbling-up spring, right into the water.In a second she dragged her foot out and tried to slap off the wet
mud, but the mischief was done. Peggy dropped the gee-pole and rushed
to her."Jim, quick!--get wood this instant. Never mind the dogs; turn the
sledge on its side!"Jim said nothing. He knew the only hope was action.There, just round the corner from the wind, as you might say, but
still gasping from the force of its buffets, they made a tiny fire
under the lee of big boulders, and Peggy pulled off her sister's
moccasin, legging, and stocking. They were all frozen hard right
through, and in another minute or two nothing could have saved the
foot that looked so oddly white and dead already. Peter bore the rubbing like a Trojan, for it was
no small pain. Peggy chafed and talked in the glow of the red-hot
fire, while Jim set about scraping away snow and making a camp.Bushes and boulders here formed a barrier, and behind them a dense
wood of spruce ran along the side of a tiny creek. It looked
promising, and the least bit of shelter was thankfully welcomed. Just
at the entrance of the creek the snow was piling up into great
drifts. As it blew down from the lake and into the river, the blizzard
caught it and forced great masses up and over the opening into the
cove.Peter, with dry stockings and leg-gear on, looked at it all
approvingly."Peg, do you see," she said, "by dark we shall be sheltered by a
great screen. By morning we shall be snowed in. What a pity we can't
stop here till spring."Peggy laughed. "We can till the snow stops," she said. "Pete, has
it occurred to you that this snow will cover up all our trail? If
anybody happens to be tracking us they'll lose us now, anyway.""Sure, they'll lose us now," agreed Peter, drawing a long
breath. "If only we could go on leaving no trail; but sledge and dogs
can't be hidden."They built themselves in among the boulders with snow and
waited.Three days the blizzard screeched across the forests, and blinding
snow rushed in mad eddies over the lakes and down the broad river
openings. Certain wind draughts piled it up in ramparts, and the mouth
of this little stream where they sheltered was stopped. From side to
side they were cut off from the river.Their greatest necessity was, of course, food. Water they got by
shaving a bit of ice into a spike and letting it drip into the pan
near the fire. But food was an ever-present anxiety, because these
delays were a tax on the supply, and it was not easy to
replenish. Gijik had brought a solid mass of dried fish, which weighed
rather light, of course; but when you calculate two fish a day each to
six dogs you get through it fairly fast. Deer meat they had still, and
a great deal of pemmican and "jerky," which they had made while they
were waiting and in the shack. And there was still tea. The monotony
was wearisome, but, as Peggy said, it would be worse without.So, as soon as they saw it was a question of waiting for the
blizzard to go, Jim went off, crawling through the brushwood to the
fir copse, and set wires for rabbits again, while Peter--with much caution about rotten ice--cut a
water-hole; there was always hope of fish.Jim, very eager and absorbed in his snares, made no sound; though
if there was anything a wild thing would have heard or scented, the
wind was his protection in a great measure. In the fir wood he
crouched behind a wide bole and looked about, hoping for the sight of
a hare; he would not have despised a porcupine to bake in hot ashes if
one would have walked into his snare, but Mr. Prickles is extremely
shrewd. Suddenly he saw a shape moving between the trees and lifting a
long, hammer-shaped head to bite off what little remained on a young
larch.It was a moose, he thought at first a cow, but soon saw it was much
too small. It was a yearling with no horns. Adventurous, it had
strayed away from the others, which were no doubt sheltering somewhere
from the blizzard, and here it was wandering alone, bleating every now
and then in a queer call, and shaking its long, silly-looking
head.Jim's heart leaped. If he could shoot this it would be a crowning
piece of luck. He shifted swiftly from tree to tree, trusting to the
protection of the wind that blew from the wandering moose to
himself. The beast had not
heard; it was still tearing at anything edible, and pushing the snow
about. Jim advanced forward and sideways, intent on his prey. Just as
he was beginning to think it safe to fire he became aware that the fir
wood ceased to the right of him. Because the brushwood was thick
below, he had not realized he was nearing the end--surely here was a
borderline.He shifted his attention from the moose and looked. Then, going
forward as lightly as he could step, he found there was a steep fall
beyond the undergrowth--a steep that was fringed along the top with
fir trees.The river! He was, perhaps, a couple of miles to the north of the
snowed-up entrance to the creek, and the wind was whistling along the
funnel of the river channel like a draught in a chimney.On the wind came a call--a voice! Some one was moving below. In an
instant Jim went down flat on his stomach, and, crawling well under
the snow-laden bushes, he made a space to see through.Coming along from Athabasca Lake, and making for Wollaston, no
doubt, were two men, one short and thick-set, the other lean and
stooping. They were dressed in woolly coats and parkas (hoods), the
full winter kit of hunters,
and the heat of their bodies had come through the wool like steam and
frozen on the surface outside, so that they looked rather like two
fluffy white bears travelling on snowshoes. They carried moderate
packs and guns.Jim stared with a horrible fascination as they came along at a
steady rate--crunch-crunch, crunch-crunch--on the powdered surface,
and passed right under the hiding-place he crouched in. He heard them
speak to each other, and it seemed that Neumann, as usual, was in a
state of smouldering fury. He said something about the "blamed trail
being snowed under."They went on, and the watcher followed them with eyes stiff in his
head. He was overwhelmed with the disaster of it, and for the minute
saw nothing else. Then the curve of the river took the two speeding
shapes, and for a while he lay still, trying to face the difficulty,
but feeling more despondent than any time since they had started.Presently he crawled out softly, got to his feet, and looked for
the moose. It was still feeding. And he dared not fire! The north wind
would carry the sound of a shot for a long way. Poor Jim groaned, then
caught himself up as he remembered that there was no saying whether these men might not know the
mouth of the cove, and decide to camp there for to-night. That would
be the climax.He started back, going gently because of the moose, found one
rabbit just caught, and then made for the cove with strides that
hurried more and more. Jim was not imaginative, but without that the
possibilities were sufficiently terrifying.However, Peggy's Guardian Angel had been in charge. All was quiet,
and Peter cleaning a little string of fish. Jim told them about the
moose. Both girls looked at him, and Peggy asked why he hadn't killed
it."We could have fed the dogs for three days and dried pounds," she
said. "Besides, it would have been awfully nice in this cold."Jim was intent on his moccasin, setting it up on a stick to
dry."Were you afraid of any one hearing if you fired?" asked
Peter. "Was there any one?"Her eyes looked keen as a hawk's in her thin brown face, now so
strong and clear in its outline.Then Jim told them exactly what he'd seen and heard. "It's the
worst bit of luck we've had," he sighed."Oh no," cried Peggy, a flush suddenly making her pink and young--"Oh no, Jim dear. It was a pity
to lose the moose, but fancy if you'd fired, and they'd heard! The
snow came and walled up the cove mouth, too! Wait, we shall win, I'm
sure we shall win! It seems bad, but--" and she tried to
laugh.CHAPTER
XVIITHE FIGHT IN THE DARKTHAT night the wind went down, and there was a great stillness over
the sheeted world. Then Jim went back again to the fir wood and shot
the young moose, which was still there, and would, no doubt, have
fallen a prey very soon to stray wolves, hungry foxes, or a pair of
lynx. It was a wonderfully defenceless creature alone, with no
antlers.Though this was good weather for travel, the three stayed snug in
the snow-walled camp waiting for the trappers to get on ahead, the
while this precious moose meat was dried in strips over the fire.On the third day they hacked through the snowdrifts at the mouth of
the little inlet and drew out on to the white river; then suddenly
realized that they would have the trappers' snowshoe trail ahead of
them as a guide and a warning.Oddly enough, not one of the three had realized that the snowfall
stopped at the time the men were passing, and the wind dropped in the
evening. Owing to these circumstances the trail could be seen
unmistakably, and this was a startling relief."But it really is funny," said Peggy, looking at the track with
shrinking eyes. "I wish they didn't haunt us in this horrible way.""We haunt them," corrected Peter. "Come on;
it's like a picture--all so beautiful. And, Pegtop, we needn't worry
now; we shall know where they are, and be able to sleep in peace."So the party raced ahead with vigour born anew of moose meat, rest,
and relief of mind. Instead of listening back, and watching over the
shoulder, as it were, they gazed ahead and followed in the trail of
the enemy--who was hunting them.The blizzard had turned the tables!It was a grand day's work, and when the dark fell they drew in to
the shore just where the river poured itself into Wollaston Lake,
almost the spot at which Pierre Corraine had captured the lost
canoe. Peggy was rather sentimental about the canoe, cached away up
there in the beaver swamp under a dead-fall. It was such a beauty! She
said they'd want it in the summer."Make another," suggested Jim. "Once we get home I'd make
anything. I say, Pegtop, won't life seem like all play after
this?""I'm awfully glad we've done it, all the same," said Peter, putting
dry wood on the fire."We haven't," said Jim."How do you mean?" questioned Peggy anxiously."We haven't done it yet.""Oh well, we're at Wollaston! We've got through all the worst, and
we know the winter trail now, and can live it. There's nothing more to
be afraid of," said Peggy."Oh, don't boast," Peter begged with sudden dread in her voice.Peggy looked at her reproachfully. "But you said we'd done it,
Pete.""I know; I said so without thinking. Jim's right. We have not done
it--yet."They were off before dawn next morning, and saw the sun rise over
the shining floor of Wollaston. After consultation they settled to hug
the east shore for shelter and direction, and because they knew they
would gain very little indeed by a direct line across, seeing the
angle at which the river left the lake. The snowshoe trail went over
in a bee-line; the sledge bent
away to the left, and in the shade of the forest trees sped away over
the snow, dogs and humans working in happy concert."One sleep," as the Indians called a night, another day of the
glittering, cutting cold, and they reached the river. Then the party
waited in the shelter of the woods, while Jim scouted cautiously for
the snowshoe trail. There it was; no doubt the trappers crossed in a
day, as they were travelling light; besides, they would never think of
camping on the ice of the lake. Jim followed up the track to a little
round fire on the western shore of the entrance. So the sledge party
held to the other shore, and went on next day with renewed
spirits.This, though, was not all smooth going. A considerable force of
water ran between these lakes, especially at the junction of Fish
River away to the east. Waterfalls and rapids forced the party to land
travel, and that meant cutting a way for sledge and dogs, hauling up,
dropping down, and other difficulties. When they camped they were
tired, but happy, for was not Deer Lake close by, and after that their
own land, as it were? The very name of Missinnippi was home and
success. They were not afraid of Deer Lake either; it was so
indescribably beautiful, and conveyed to them a feeling of safety,
because there were so many
Indian villages about its shores. It was not so lonely as the far
north. The weather held for several glittering days, and then, as they
began the long journey down Deer Lake, all the beauty went out and the
thermometer dropped to fifty below zero.There was no sun, and the icy chill of the air froze everything
exposed to it at once. Fur "mitts" could not be taken off without
infinite care. Hoods must be drawn close round faces, so that the fur
tails that fringed them kept off the wind. Meat and fish were frozen
like brick; and camp-making was sheer agony, just as was camp-breaking
in those awful mornings of black, iron cold.The faces of the three were cracked and blistered; they looked old
and worn with the pain and ceaseless struggle against force; but their
eyes "were satisfactory," as Kipling says in his great story of the
Polo Game. Sunk under frosted eyebrows, black-ringed by strain, yet
they were full of fearless light and splendid intention.Bad it was--very bad. But they had got the treasure they came for;
they had passed through amazing dangers safely. They had got as far as
Deer Lake on the way home. Were they going to give in now to
lamentation and repining?As Peggy said, chafing her thin cheeks with snow because she had
got a touch of "bite," "After all, what else could you expect?"There it was! The cold seemed to get worse, not better, which,
after all, was natural, as the days shortened fast and the sun had
less and less power. You must remember they were coming into the very
depths of it all. They made short spells, too, which fretted them; but
the difficulties to overcome were many, and Peggy suffered pain in her
leg.They were a fortnight getting down Deer Lake, and then came the
most unexpected and shattering disaster--something impossible to
foresee or avert; something that tried to the utmost every bit of
pluck in all three.They had come to the last camp on Deer Lake. To-morrow they planned
to take the Missinnippi trail--the last stretch before home. It was a
great occasion; a night of triumph in spite of the fearful cold, and
they cooked quite a big portion of dried moose meat, with beans, in
water over the fire, for the feeling prevailed that they were getting
on so fast that they need not be extra careful. A bigger fire than
usual; a bigger supper too, and the dogs sitting round in a smiling
semi-circle, waiting for the thawing fish that swung on a stick above
the blaze."How long shall we be now?" cried Peggy, as she shook the pan over
the fire and turned over the meat.Jim said a month at the rate they were going now. "It's not
canoeing," he said, "and we've got to take the land trail for a big
piece--you remember, there's the falls. Why, it'll all be frozen up,
right away round the bend. Big falls and the rocks, there's a canon
where the little lake joins."They remembered well and discussed it, even to the big boulder on
which Peter saw the Cree watching the river at dawn in the mist! How
long, long ago it seemed now--an age. They had all grown so much
older, that they looked at many things in a different light. The point
of view was shifted by these experiences.They were eating, when they noticed a change in the dogs. Instead
of burrowing their holes in the snow, as huskies do after finishing
all the supper they can get, the dogs crowded in to the humans, and
they were shivering--but not with cold. Raa, in particular, raised his
sharp nose and curled his lips back from his fangs with a look of
deadly menace. They were all listening, too, and their wonderful power
of scent seemed to bring them something they were afraid of.As the three discussed this matter Peter said "Hark!" Then they all
ceased to speak and, crouching by the fire, listened to a new sound
that the wind had before prevented from reaching them. When they first
heard it, it was confused. In a minute after they knew it for the
howling and yelling of dogs, as distinct from the rather peculiar
long-drawn cry of a hunting wolf.The three stood up and looked anxiously at one another, while even
the huskies came crowding in over their feet, whimpering in terror
obviously."Let's build up the fire--quick," cried Peter."Load our guns," urged Peggy, looking to her automatic with a
practised eye.For two or three minutes they were as busy as possible, and it took
only that time to fill the air with the deafening noise of scores of
wild dogs mad with hunger, and coming through the woods straight for
the scent of the meat which the wind had carried.As every one knows, an Indian encampment owns at least fifty
dogs--often many more. In summer they fare well; in winter, when food
is short, they are always on the verge of starvation, and often over
it--never by any chance appeased, unless they happen to pull down a deer for themselves, in
which case it is a very moderate meal for such a pack. They eat one
another, of course, if one is wounded; it is a continual struggle for
existence.Jim was telling his sisters to get behind trees and fire low. Peggy
cried out to beat them with flaming brands; and then the words were
lost and whelmed in confusion and mad horror that was like a
nightmare.Dogs! dogs--bounding in and out of the dark; slinking through the
scrub; leaping over dead-falls. Howling, slavering, snapping
dogs--which would have been cowards singly, but en masse were reckless
and carried away by the energy of the mob.The three Lockharts kept their heads with amazing coolness. The
girls, setting their backs against trees, fired at the dogs that
crowded on them, and Jim fought with the axe, Raa between his knees
and a tree behind him.The five huskies fought for their lives, of course, and, as dogs
went down, bitten or maimed, the others rushed on them and tore them
to pieces. It was a most horrible sight; but of course there was no
time to be sick over details, or even to distinguish them, for the
fire was kicked and trampled out of existence amid the yelps and yells
of burned dogs, and after that
it was only the bloodstained snow that showed up the battle.Of course the sledge was knocked over and torn, bitten, ripped to
get at the food, the dried meat eaten instantly, frozen as it was, and
the beans left over--nay, even the harness was chewed and gnawed.Then, just as the flood had come, it went. Jim split the head of a
big leader with his axe; panic seized some and they fled, the others
following, and the howls died away in the distance.Peggy sat down at the root of her tree and sobbed. Peter leaned
against her, panting. Both of them gripped guns that were hot with
loading.Jim patted Raa's head and looked round, his mouth grim and
set. Nothing much worse could have happened to them, just at that
crisis especially.Billy, one of their own huskies, crawled out from under the
dead-fall with a bitten paw. Raa had his ear torn and his face ripped,
but Jim had protected him. The others were either all dead and eaten,
or gone with the raving pack! Dead dogs lay about horribly torn. Jim
took them up, one after the other, and threw them back of the rocks
and scrub. Then he began to look at the sled and the wreck of their packs. The loss of the dried
meat was the worst. The bags of pemmican were safe in one of the
rubber bags--that was a mercy indeed--and the package of tea. The
dogs' fish was all gone, frozen though it was."Considering the dogs are eaten, it doesn't matter so much," Peter
said with a sort of brisk despair; then she suddenly began to laugh,
and sat down giggling helplessly. Then Peggy began to laugh as well as
cry, and poor old Raa stole up to her and licked the tears that rolled
down her cold cheeks.Jim gazed at them all in silence. "I vote we have another fire at
once," he said."Oh, not here," cried Peggy; "it's too horrible. Let's go a little
farther on--to a clean place. We shall feel better."So they did, dragging the sledge themselves, and picking out a
likely camping-place. Then they made a new fire, heated water, washed
the slashed wounds of the two dogs left to them, and drank some tea
themselves.They slept afterwards from weariness, but the waking was harder
than any yet. So much to face, and under more and more cruel
conditions. One thing was settled for them: it was not possible to go
on that day. Billy was very lame, and Raa nearly blind of one
eye. Jim's hand was torn by savage fangs and all sorts of things; besides, eyes, paws, and hands
wanted mending. Even the harness."Two dogs better than no dogs," said Peter, raising her head to
meet the blast of ill-luck. "We'll do it all right, Pegtop. We can
pull in turns, and Jim be leader. The load is too heavy for two dogs
anyway."The cold continued at the same high pitch, but no more snow fell,
and when the little cavalcade started the trail of the trappers was
visible on the frozen, powdery surface of the Missinnippi.It is odd how one can get used to any pain, or any disappointment,
and amazing how even three days will put a new aspect on what seemed a
crushing defeat. One thing only was not easy to get over. They had not
enough to eat, and that, with hard work and freezing cold, is a great
strain on pluck and vitality.Pemmican is very nourishing, but there is so little bulk in it that
it does not seem to satisfy, and even this had to be rationed. They
did not know when they would get anything else either. The future
showed blank.But they were on the Missinnippi! Miles lay between, and hardships
indescribable, but it was their own river, and nothing could quench
the eternal uprising of the "home" feeling. Unluckily the ground, or
rather ice, covered in one
day was of necessity shorter. Two dogs partially fed cannot do the
work of six, but they kept on steadily, day after day, eating up the
frozen miles between the unbroken ranks of snow-laden forest trees;
till at last they began to look out for the big boulders at the place
where they had taken to the canoe after their first porterage.It was going to be harder for a spell, across the peninsula, but it
would be a landmark--an immense, definite gain once they were
through. And you can bear so much when you see the prize!In the early dusk they drew up to the rocks and stopped to
gaze. There was the huge, round-topped boulder on which the Cree had
stood, watching the forward trail through the mist of the summer
dawn. Then the roar of the falls filled the air in a deep, ceaseless
hum; now there was a frozen stillness. No water, no bird; every now
and then the sharp report of wood as some branch split in the frost
with a pistol-like crack; then deathly silence again, and only the
sound of breathing, and the creaks of the laden sledge."Better make camp here to-night," said Jim. "Come on. One big pull
up the bank."It was a good bank for landing, flattish and mossy, then up a slope
and into the shelter of a sort
of rocky cliff caved out underneath and sheltered on two sides with
more rocks. The track into the forest was rock-bound too, for
everywhere within a mile or two the land was rocky, as the big falls
at the bend and the rapids showed. Higher up, the river ran between
walls of rock.There was a feeling of security in having rock at your back and
sides, apart from the shelter afforded; so with a sigh of relief the
three started to make camp, scraping away the snow and collecting dry
wood."Did you notice that they landed here too?"
said Peggy. "Same place exactly. I suppose we shall lose them now; not
so easy to see their trail in the forest. Aren't you sorry, Jim? I
like seeing them safe ahead."Jim thought the trail would be visible on the snow just the same;
then he gave a short laugh. "We shan't bother about their tracks soon,
my word! That will be fine."And Peter said nothing. She was looking worn, and her dark
hawk-face had the old listening look that came when she "suspicioned"
trouble. As always, she did not know why or wherefrom this new anxiety
came--she was simply oppressed by it. She said nothing, had not
suggested a thought of it to the others since it took possession of
her, because the way was so
hard, and the real trials of the day so cruel that it seemed selfish
to add to that which Peggy and Jim were bearing.In all this you will see how Peter had developed. When she left the
Log House she would not have hesitated to blurt out any dread she
felt. On the contrary, she might have been a little proud of feeling
what the others did not! But now all that was past; the girl thought
many times before adding one straw to Peggy's heavy load. If there was
anything nice to see, she saw it; if there was the smallest happy
thought she made the most of it. But for the past two days or more she
had been struggling against one of her old warning dreads. She fought
it, but it held her, and it grew stronger.After the meagre supper they all rolled up and went to
sleep--except Peter. If she slept at all it was for a short doze, then
she was wide awake thinking--thinking. Then she sat up and looked
round.The moon had risen, and white light made the strange, wild scene
quite clear--the fire burned red, and close to it were two bundles,
Jim and Peggy, sleeping the sleep of exhaustion. Round them all the
overhanging rocks piled into a sheltering barrier, and the
upturned sledge lay across the
opening, with the dogs loosely leashed to it in case they should
wander after food.Peter got up and stepped into the open with noiseless feet. Raa
raised his head and looked at her. She patted him to quiet, as she was
afraid of taking him. He might be too definite! She went down to the
river and back along the trail--the shining trail so clear under the
moon that she feared would tell her the worst news.About a mile back she found what she expected--the fresh track of
men's snowshoes, deep and distinct, following on the sledge and its
crew. She stood still awhile making sure, and presently understood
exactly what had happened. The trappers had made a plain, obvious
trail right down Deer Lake and all the way to the landing at the
boulder rock, where the party would of necessity be forced
ashore. Having made this trail on the river snow, they had gone back
through the forest to get behind the sledge again, and followed it all
the way.It was impossible to guess when and where Neumann had discovered
the Lockharts were behind him, because he had made no break, but gone
straight ahead and then doubled on his own trail to keep close behind,
landing in the woods not a mile short of the camp.Peter turned again and went back.It might be said she had no feeling--nothing but a sense of
crushing dismay. For the first time on this terrible Gold Trail she
shivered in utter misery.CHAPTER
XVIIIDESPERATIONHOW long had they, how long? Perhaps when she got back she would
find the little camp in Neumann's hands! She gathered her reserve of
strength, and forced her weary feet to full speed. All was still at
the rock camp, only old Raa sat up and looked at her with eager
question in his shining green eyes.She had made up her mind what to do while she ran, and now shook
Jim gently by the shoulder till he woke. Then she told him, and,
whispering, rapidly suggested her plan.The great round-topped boulder on the bank was set in brushwood,
scrub, and broken rocks. As it did not fit into the ground there were
hollows beneath it, covered and disguised by the bushes and piled-up
snow. This was Peter's notion as a hiding-place, because it was a
landmark neither of them would ever forget, and one they could describe to a friend if the necessity
arose to fetch the treasure by other hands. Jim agreed at once. He saw
the advantage of concealment in a place so near and simple that the
trappers would not think of it.In a moment the two were working, and of course the steps to and
fro were the natural traffic of the landing. It all fitted in. Nearly
three hundred pounds' weight of buckskin bags did they carry and press
into the cracks under the stone and into the scrub, keeping count of
number and more or less of position, and in the end there was nothing
to show they had done it.When they got back both lay down in their furred blankets--still,
listening; and then suddenly Peter gave an exclamation."What?" asked the boy, raising his head. She held up her arm and
hand, then she said very low,--"I say, Jim, look! Pegtop's Angel hasn't quit guarding us, eh?"It was snowing. Clouds over the moon had brought up snow from the
north--fine, powdery snow, on a bitter wind that stirred the woods and
blew the snow round in eddies. Whether it came from the darkening sky
or the hundreds of miles of snow-laden forest mattered not at all, for
it answered the purpose either
way. Spinning in eddies up the river bed, sweeping round corners into
drifts, showering from the bending boughs, it laid a cover over all
prints, and a glistening robe on the big boulder rock and the mass of
bushes at the foot.When the three woke at dawn they were half buried."Oh, how warm!" murmured Peggy. "Why can't we stop like the bears
all winter? So sensible!" And she sighed.It went to Peter's heart to tell her the new fear, but they had
to. It was best she should not be startled by the shock of Neumann's
coming."And we've put Dad's dust in a safe place, Pegtop. Don't ask, we
shan't tell you.""Why not?" demanded Peggy, flushing."Because they'll ask you, and you can say sure you don't know, see?
It's better like that. Why, your eyes are a regular looking-glass for
answering truth back. Jim and I will puzzle them somehow. You
wait.""But do you think they'll go without it?" asked Peggy in a
faltering whisper."No, we shall," said Jim grimly."What, and leave it--somewhere?""We shall have to. Just go, and come back in the spring with some
one to help. They'll force our hand, you'll see." So said Jim."Personally," added Peter, "I'm sort of planking on Pegtop's
Guardian Angel. I don't say it's a bright look-out, but I do say it's
a grand chance for an angel to show what it's made of.""Oh, hush," murmured Peggy, turning pink.Then all three laughed, which was very good for them, seeing how
desperately tight was the corner they were in, and how desperately
hungry and thin they all felt.They boiled water, drank very weak, hot tea, and divided a share of
pemmican between the three, and gave some to the dogs; they had
nothing else."I must get something to-day," said Jim uneasily. "There'll be a
better chance in the forest than on the river, perhaps. If we can get
a moose now; Peter, do you remember the cow-moose that near hanged
herself, close here, too?"They were talking about it, and trying to pack up briskly, when
Neumann walked up the bank from the river trail and stood looking in
at them over their snow barrier. Peter thought of the wind-swept
track, and looked back at him without dismay."Hullo!" said Jim.They all three went on stowing packs in an indifferent
manner.The three Lockharts kept their heads with amazing coolness (p. 280)Illustration opposite page 292 in E.E. Cowper's Girls on the
Gold Trail."Can't say you've a strong team," sneered the trapper, looking at
Raa under his narrowed eyelids."Wild pack came down on us and fought ours. Starved, I
suppose. Held us up a lot," said Jim in the same indifferent tone."Hard luck on you when you'd a load to pull--heavy load," suggested
the other."It isn't heavy now, worse luck still," retorted Jim. "They ate up
our fish, a whole heap of it, and our dried meat, frozen and
jerky. We've nothing but a little pemmican till I bring something
down.""Oh, that's the notion, is it?" Neumann paused ; then he heard
something, for he turned and looked over his left shoulder towards the
river. "Hullo, pardner!" he called, and whistled.La Perle came in sight, carrying a pack which he shifted from his
back to the ground. Then he leaned against a tree, stuffing his pipe
and staring into the little camp with a smile that exposed his yellow
teeth. He was amused, but plainly not surprised.Neumann went on talking."One way and another we've spent some time lookin' after you
three," he said--"not for nothing. My time's valuable. You got away
from the creek up Crooked River--"here his face darkened into sullen rage; he was thinking of
the Cree, perhaps--"but we picked you up again, and you thought you'd
done us. I'm not that kind. No chechaquo ever
done F. Neumann yet, you freeze on to that, young chap. Well, we
thought you might just as well do the porterage as not--saved us a lot
of trouble. So we let you carry on till it suited us to take over the
stuff. That's how we stand. I don't ask for no hole-and-corner
business; I'm fair and square. I've been after the dust Tom Lockhart
hid over a year, and I won't be put off no longer--see! You hand over
and we don't harm you. You monkey with us, and you'll be sorry. There
it is in black and white.""In black, you mean," said Peter suddenly.She was sitting with her back against the cliff and an arm round
Raa, her gaze fixed on the trees and the little whirls of snow.Neumann took no notice except to scowl."Well," he said, "I've no time to waste. This is where our trails
part. You can go off west soon as you like to break camp if you hand
over the gold, the sledge, and the dogs; We want them for the
load. Guess it's heavy." He grinned."There is no gold here," said Jim. He
just glanced up to say it, and went on with his careful rolling of a
blanket."What do you mean, no gold?" Neumann flamed with a sudden red
rage."Just that. There is no gold here. Look if you like."The sledge was close to the trapper, and in a moment he was
throwing the bags and the few utensils right and left. It was
true--there was no gold! He hesitated, brooding sullenly. Then he
asked,--"What did you want a sledge and six huskies for, eh?""Easiest way to take the trail," answered Jim shortly. "Must have
warm things. We were hung up at the shack so long--well you know; that
threw us back."All this was true on the face of it.Neumann drew away slowly and joined La Perle. They went and sat
down together on a dead-fall by the side of the track, in full view of
the camp. There they smoked and talked.Both the girls thought the worst was over. Peter's buoyancy carried
her to the top of the wave of woe. Her dark eyes twinkled
affectionately at Peggy."Cheer up, old Pegtop. We shall be out of it soon. How sick they
are!" She patted Raa's nose
gently with the palm of her hand. "Buck up, Raa. I wish I could give
you old Neumann to eat, but you wouldn't like it," so she whispered,
making Peggy smile, but not Jim. He looked at her, and his thin brown
face was graver than she had ever seen it."'Fraid there's more to come, Pete.""But--when they can't--" Peter urged."I know. But Neumann's not easy beat. He's on this notion, and he
won't let go in a hurry.""I think gold is a most awful thing," murmured Peggy
sorrowfully. "Better far live without it. In old days he wasn't so
bad--at least he didn't seem so. Now, he's wicked, and all because he
thinks there's some gold to be got."Neumann and La Perle got up together and came forward to the
entrance of the little camp. Then the former spoke. "We've a notion
that like as not you buried the loot near the end of Deer Lake when
your dogs got chawed up. We're going back to fetch it, and Jim's going
along with us to show up the place, see? We won't have no more
hokey-pokey over this dust. The girls can stay here and live on
pemmican," he laughed roughly. "When Jim's shown us the stuff he can
come back. That's our last word.""But it's not there!" Peter flung at him with hot emphasis. "It's
no more there than it's here. Now, then!"There was a moment of tense silence. Jim looked on the ground. The
two girls hurled hack a challenge of denial at the trappers."She speak de trut'," remarked La Perle with conviction.Neumann's red face turned crimson."So that's it," he said. "Well, it's somewhere, and we mean to have
it. If one way fails another way won't. You'll stay here till you tell
me what I mean to know--and you'll starve. We make camp here. We've
food enough and to spare, but you'll only get the smell of it. Jim
Lockhart, if you'd rather sit still and see your sisters die, do it. I
guess some one will speak before the end."Peter realized then the devilish nature of this pressure. Jim would
starve himself, but to see his sisters die was another thing; and the
case was much the same with her. She was so hungry, and felt so weak
and cold from the long under-feeding, that she could face dying with
actual comfort, she believed, but Peggy would be different! Neumann
had been quite clever enough to see this, though he was incapable of
feeling for other people himself.On the second day of this imprisonment he came into their camp and
took away all that remained of the pemmican and Jim's
fire-arms. Apparently he did not see any importance in the little
automatics carried by the girls. Of course, he found the Winchester
with the initials."See this, Louis," he said, holding it up, and laughed--that was
all.It was all Peter could do to hold Raa while this was going
on. Crouching to the ground with every fang bared, the wolf-dog
snarled at the man who had ill-treated him; but the girl prevented any
attack, because she believed it would mean the old dog's death
instantly.Neumann stood looking at him for a few moments, then he went back
to the outer camp and began talking to his partner. This ended in his
return."I'm going to have these dogs," he said."No," Peter told him fiercely."What for?" Jim asked. He was standing up leaning against the
rock-wall, his blue eyes sunk and sombre in his thin face."Because it won't suit my book to starve them, see? I shall want
the sledge, and I've a notion to feed the dogs so's they can pull. It
won't pay me to let 'em die with you all."Peter let Raa go, with a last little kiss on the top of his rough head. She said nothing at all, but
this was like a stab into her heart.She got up weakly, and began breaking sticks to put on the fire;
there was plenty of dry wood within reach."We may as well be warm," she said, for the sake of speaking, but a
curious feeling came over her that Pegtop's Angel had gone away and
left them.Peggy, sitting close to the fire, motionless, divined the feeling
in some curious way, and raised her eyes, wonderfully large and
bright."You're thinking our Angel has quit looking after us, Pete," she
said. "You wait. I'm believing all the time. Don't know exactly what's
up, but I've such a feeling we're not left.""Good for you, Pegtop." Peter smiled with difficulty. "Anyway, Raa
will get something to eat. Look, they're feeding the dogs with deer
meat and cooking their own. Wish they wouldn't do it so close to
us.""That's just why they do," said Jim grimly.Peggy went to sleep while Peter kept the fire going. They drank a
little water from the drip of the ice facets; that was all they
had. Jim and Peter talked in low voices, going over every detail of
chance for and against escape, but never once did they refer even to
the gold which was in their charge.Peter wanted Jim to climb up over the rocks and see if he could get
out and kill a rabbit or some small creature with her little gun, but
Jim refused. First, he would not leave his sisters. Second, he
explained if they saw him make the attempt they would shoot him or tie
him up--indeed, he believed they were only waiting an excuse for some
action of that kind."They want me out of the way really," he said, and Peter
shivered. "Better keep your guns in case you need them more."At dusk the guards cooked another feast, and the smell of the deer
meat was pain such as only those who are starving can understand. They
saw that Raa and Billy were very well fed, and afterwards a muzzle of
moose-hide was put on Raa--one man holding a club over his cowering
head while the other fastened the muzzle; then he was tied up.Peter was glad he was fed. If only it could be Peggy, she thought,
having left herself out of the calculation altogether.Rolled in their fur blankets, they sat very still, only moving to
keep the fire up, when suddenly from the dark of the wood came the
long wailing howl of a wolf, perhaps the most desolate sound on
earth. It was answered by another and then another. Obviously they
were not the only hungry people in the forest.Jim sat up, and Peter, who had been courting sleep, rather welcomed
this diversion."If only they'll come and eat Neumann," she said, and then began to
laugh weakly."Look," said Jim, "beyond their fire, look into the wood."Peter looked, and saw green sparks moving, moving--light green
spots of flame that made one shudder, because they were so mad and so
merciless."They are as hungry as we are," murmured Peter. "Hark to old Raa
growling."Billy began to howl; they could see him crawling close to the
men.La Perle rolled over, sat up, and piled wood on the fire. Then he
cursed roundly, and apparently looked to his rifle. Neumann only
grunted when he was spoken to. He slept heavily; he was that kind of
man, with a very short, thick neck.But the wolves were beyond minding the fire. They came closer and
closer in, till Jim and Peter could see the dark shapes weaving to and
fro in one ceaseless movement--never still an instant, and always the
green eyes and white fangs turned towards the trappers' fire.Suddenly they bounded in, and a brief but fierce battle began
between them and La Perle, who was yelling abuse at Neumann for
his slackness between
shots. The latter scrambled on to his feet, clubbed his rifle, and
laid about him with great, slogging blows."Sweet loves!" said Peter, close to Jim's ear, repeating her own
phrase of the summer trail. "Wonder if they are the same pack? Go it,
wolves, kill them!" Starved or no, Peter was quite irrepressible, and
her dark eyes flashed in their hollows.The noise was very horrible and murderous, the desperate wolves
attacking the men. They were very big, gaunt, grey wolves of the sort
known as timber wolves, but there were only some seven or eight
altogether, and when the biggest leader was shot the others retreated
into the forest, where they howled with the terrible lifting cry which
is enough to strike terror into any one, especially a man on a lone
trail.The brother and sister watched eagerly to see what might happen,
and presently realized that Billy the husky was dead, torn to
pieces. Raa had been cut free of his muzzle at the offset, when
Neumann woke; that they gathered from what he said to La Perle. It was
a sensible thing to do, and no doubt the trapper realized what a help
the big wolf-dog would be. He was bitten and ripped in the struggle,
and lay on the snow growling at Neumann; but he had accounted for more than one wolf, as the bodies
proved.Presently all was quiet again, a new fire made, and the carcases of
the wolves thrown out into the forest. All was the same as before,
except that Raa was unmuzzled, though still on a long leash. It
appeared that the men wanted him as a protection; but they threw the
meat to him, they did not take it, and Raa watched them with his nose
on his paws, silent, red-eyed, revengeful.By the end of another day Neumann had exhausted all his powers of
threats--such as they were--but could get no answer from the two who
still sat up with their backs to the rock, or moved about getting
sticks. They had had nothing now for three days, and that after more
than three weeks of rationed pemmican and hard labour! You must take
the cold into consideration, too. Only the little fire stood between
them and a quick death, as they were not strong enough for vigorous
exercise.Peggy slept most of the time. She was warm enough to keep
alive. When she woke she drank a little tea, so weak that it was but
bewitched water; that would not last two days more."It won't matter," said Peter to Jim; "let's keep it for
Pegtop. I
don't care now." Her voice was a whisper.That night, when the dusk wrapped the camp, Neumann was more angry
than he had ever been before. He told La Perle that he should take
measures to force Peter to speak by tying Jim to a tree outside the
warmth of the camp."She won't let him freeze," said Neumann."She is mos' determin'," groaned the half-breed. "The little one
she die, now. You freeze Jim--hein--he die. You
tink you make Pete speak"--he snapped his fingers derisively--"she
die. Where then dis gold? I do not belief your starve plan. You are
mistak'. You lose all--ze time, ze gold. We lose all now, that is ver'
sure."So Neumann was still more angry because of the obvious truth in the
other man's reasoning. He was always making miscalculations in his
greed. La Perle did not let him forget this, especially the trouble he
had brought upon them by the theft of those valuable silver fox pelts
that belonged to the Cree, Kee-way-din. Neumann had seen them in the
man's tepee, and stolen them when he was out on his rounds. They were
almost priceless, and at the time La Perle had told him it was never
good policy to steal from an Indian; but Neumann would not hear
reason, and when the Cree tracked them he made matters worse by
shooting the man's ear off instead of
killing him, as he meant to do.La Perle reminded him of this folly again that night as they
quarrelled."Brute way no good," he said, and explained that he would have got
the gold by making friends with the three and then watching. "Now they
all die," he repeated, "where your gold? It is fool treek, your brute
way."Whereupon Neumann reminded him of the thousands of dollars they'd
got for the silver fox pelts at the settlement."And what's the Cree done to us? Let him follow; he can't hit a
house! Same with these youngsters. I'll get the gold; the girl will
speak when she sees the boy roped to a tree."CHAPTER
XIXTHE SONG OF THE SCARLET HUNTEROF all this the sister and brother knew nothing, except that the
trappers were quarrelling, and that Neumann was desperate. Some of his
threats had been especially vile, but the two were so far gone in
weakness that his words missed fire and conveyed very little to minds
that were really but half conscious.Jim took Peggy's automatic, as she could not use it. That was the
only preparation possible for anything they might have to face on the
morrow."But I expect we shall be dead," whispered Peter, smiling with her
bright hollow eyes. "I'm only sorry we couldn't carry out Dad's
job. Never mind; we can tell him we did the best we knew."Then she rolled herself in her blanket furs and lay down against
Peggy, who was still and waxen, but breathing.Peter dozed fitfully, and her mind was full of strange
imaginings. She kept on waking and finding these thoughts--or
dreams--were not real; but at the same time a feeling of excitement
made her heart beat a little faster, and she wondered if Jim felt it,
or if he slept. He was very quiet, crouched close to the fire, his
shoulders hunched, and the blanket round him.In this queer mood she looked at every yard of their little
rock-framed camp, and then straight up at the broken outline of the
rocks above her. There was snow everywhere, and from it jutted bunches
of scrubby bush and queer bits of boulder. One of these fixed her
attention, because it was like a head. She lay watching it as one
might shapes in a red-hot fire, but it did not dissolve into twigs as
a fire dissolves into ashes. Moving with infinite caution it still
remained--a head.Presently it was withdrawn, and Peter, in her trance-like state of
weakness, thought "that's all right," and she closed her eyes only to
open them again with a sudden memory of that head.Jim was still motionless, his crossed arms on his humped-up knees,
his head resting on them. Peter's gaze left him and examined the rock
frame of the little camp again. Almost opposite her, and at Jim's back, a dim shape was coming
down the broken cliff face. It came like a lizard--slow, silent, and
sure."Ah," thought Peter, interested in this queer dream, "so that is
the body that belongs to the head?" and she observed its progress down
the rocks. "It won't hurt us," she thought. "There is nothing to
steal; besides, dreams don't really matter."On its feet in the angle of the wall she saw a tall thin shape. The
head, turned towards Neumann's camp, reminded her of something. Of
course--Indians. The smooth, black outline, with receding forehead and
hook-like nose. Peter, gazing dreamily, thought how ruthless is the
shape of a Red Indian's head and face. "Even Gijik," she recalled;
then she wondered where he was, and wished he would come.The lean shape moved like a shadow round the inner side of the
rocks, and looked out on the trappers' camp. Peter followed its
progress, turning her eyes but not her head--she was too tired to move
that. It occurred to her that it was a pity there was so much snow,
"things show up against snow." She could see the man quite clearly
now. He was going out past the upturned sledge into Neumann's
camp.Then she heard Raa growl, and a sudden awakening knowledge in her
dazed mind made her drag herself up on to her knees, and stay so,
rigid with excitement. She heard another long snarl from the wolf-dog,
who was crouching on the snow on the farther side of the heap which
was Neumann. The snarl woke him, for he cursed the dog and rolled
over. An instant after he was on his feet, but in the confusion of
waking he had seized the club with which he beat the dog, instead of
his gun, for both lay by him near the fire. At the same time he
stepped back away from the swift-moving shape, and shouted confusedly
to La Perle.The crouching dog saw him grip the club, and, with every muscle in
his powerful body, sprang at Neumann's back and bore him down, holding
him with fangs like a steel vice through the upper arm.The Indian bent over the fallen man and struck twice into his
throat with a knife that shone; then he turned like a beast of prey on
La Perle, who was struggling out of his furs in a frenzied manner, and
making a noise like a cat in a trap. Louis La Perle was not a brave
man when he was getting the worst of it, but he was very active. On
his feet he dodged the leaping figure that came at him, picked up his gun, and raced for the
wood. The Indian went after him in leaps; for minutes they shifted to
and fro among the trees, getting farther off, then La Perle must have
tripped over a fallen bough, for Peter heard his shriek of despair as
the Indian sprang on him. Then there was silence.Peter sat down on her heels and thought it all over. It was quite
horrible. She reviewed every bit of the vision, from the moment she
saw that quiet head to the last raucous screech as the Indian caught
the half-breed. She shivered and looked down at Peggy, asleep, very
waxen and still. Then she realized that Jim was on his feet, looking
over into Neumann's camp. "They're dead, you know," said Peter, in a
matter-of-fact voice that was husky with weakness."So the Cree got them in the end," Jim answered. "Well, they always
do. I'm glad." And slowly he went past the upturned sledge into the
open. Then Peter heard him talking to Raa, and she got up and put
sticks on the fire, an amazing sense of security creeping through her
veins and waking her starved body into life again.Presently Jim came back, carrying some brown chips in his
hand. "I'll take the axe and cut some more," he said, putting a
little hard bit into her
mouth. "Here, suck it, Pete, while you melt the others into
soup. Whatever you do, don't take too much at first; but it's grand
feeding."Peter did not ask what it was; she recognized at once that these
were broken bits of frozen deer meat. Presently she heard Jim cutting
more off the haunch, and she found herself almost hurrying across to
warn him not to hit too hard, as the axe might fly in splinters,
seeing the frost was about forty degrees below zero, when steel is
almost as brittle as glass.They fed Peggy with hot soup, and she sat up, leaning against
Peter. The younger girl could hardly control her voice. She wanted to
laugh and also to cry, but there was something so odd and brief about
the whole thing that her mind thought--quite independently, as it
seemed--"We shall all wake up and find Neumann snoring in the camp
over there, and nothing to eat. People do dream food dreams when they
are dying."Then Raa came over and sat down with them. He slapped his tail on
the snow, and looked at Peter in a corner-wise fashion, because he
felt guilty about Neumann. He would have done it again, of course, but
he was quite civilized enough to know that dogs ought not to kill
humans. He thought he had killed Neumann, you see, which was not the case, but he had made it
possible for the one-eared man to kill his enemy at last. There was no
doubt in the world that the trapper was destroyed by his own sins,
for, apart from his evil doings to the Cree--who trusted in him in the
first place--the dog would have saved him had he been even a decent
master. As it was, seeing the club in his hand, Raa bore him down."Are they gone?" asked Peggy presently, sipping more hot soup in a
tin cup."Dead," answered Jim."Why?""Cree came down and knifed Neumann, and chased La Perle off into
the wood. Killed him too.""Oh," murmured Peggy. Then, after a pause, "We can go now.""When we've found our legs again," said Peter."How extra-or-dinary," breathed Peggy, with a drawn-out
emphasis.There was a longer pause."What about your Angel, Pegtop," Peter reminded. "I thought he'd
quit worrying about us, but he hadn't.""Oh no, they never do that," said Peggy, in her own sober voice;
"but of course sometimes it isn't the plan for us to get all we
think we want. Mum says
so. Oh, Pete, we shall he able to get her gold home now. I am so
glad."With that Peggy went to sleep again, looking less waxen and less
pinched, but very small and thin.Slowly the other two imbibed soup and talked their plans out. First
and foremost they must bury Neumann somehow, though to dig in the iron
ground was impossible. With rocks a sort of cairn could be made; the
same for La Perle. Jim was not strong enough at present. He knew it,
and said so, but hoped he would be to-morrow."I'll help you," Peter told him. A little creep of horror ran up
her spine as she offered, but if Jim could do a horrible work, surely
she could! She was older. Why should Jim bear it alone?The food was theirs, and the Winchester with the initials--come
back to them safely this time. The ammunition was very valuable, and
the tobacco would do for presents. The tea was a special treat, and
there were beans and some rusty bacon, but not much. All they wanted
they moved to the little rock camp for fear of wolves. That was the
present danger; but the bursting of the cloud that had hung over the
trail all these months had
cleared the outlook for them so completely that wolves seemed a slight
inconvenience--nothing worse.Within four days Jim and Peter had performed the funeral rites of
the trappers with the utmost care and reverence. La Perle had been
stabbed and his rifle was gone, and no doubt the Cree had departed,
satisfied, to his own district. The Lockharts never saw him
again--strange, sinister figure."I wonder what he was like before he met Neumann," said Peggy, as
she fried bacon quite like old times. "I wonder what Neumann did to
him, poor Kee-way-din?" You see, they knew nothing about the
silver-fox furs then; later, they understood.After a week of resting and food they began to get the buckskin
bags from under the big boulder again. No light task, considering the
snow that had drifted up round the base. But the joy of strength again
made work light, and one by one the bags were got at till they all
were there and put back again into the rubber pack bag. Nearly three
hundred pounds' weight--so Jim calculated; between sixty and seventy
thousand dollars in gold dust."I'm glad we held on and saved it," said Peter, sitting on the
stuff in a possessive way. So said they all, laughing over supper at
the end of the hard day. And
now the next thing was to get it home. If very much had been done,
very much remained to do. About sixty miles of trail through the
forest before they could take up the river travel again--and one dog!
Billy had been killed by the wolves.Jim said these things, but the girls would not listen. As long as
food could be got they would pull, make a short day's work of it, and
take it in turns to help Raa. Were they not strong now? It all came
back to the question of food, which was, of course, running short
again.Peter was for starting at once, now they were able, taking what
little meat they had and trusting to luck to shoot more. She won her
point by the very energy of her arguments, and at dawn on a certain
day they took up the trail again for the cut across the peninsula
through the forest. During the day Jim shot a snowshoe rabbit that
flitted past while they were resting silently at midday. It made a
fresh kind of supper. The next day he left them and ranged round some
distance while the girls went slowly on with the sledge and Raa. He
brought back a small deer, and Peter shot a partridge running along
the ground like a little ball of feathers; there were plenty of them
somewhere, but hidden in the snow like the rabbits, the mink, ermine, and other furred
creatures, for the temperature had fallen again and the cold was
bitter.However, the deer was all they wanted, and the trail continued for
three more days, with camps at night in the most sheltered places they
could find. Yet there was no sign of the river, and, of course, no
falls to guide them by their noises. Indeed, the stillness of the
frozen forest was sometimes overpowering, because the tension seemed
to hold the brain as well as the body.It was about the end of the sixth day from the rock camp that they
began to get a little uneasy as to the time and place. Why had they
not reached the upper river--the road home that they had dreamed of
all these months? On the seventh day they came on the trail of a
sledge, with the prints of dogs' feet and snowshoes. Silently they
gathered round, gazing, while Raa sniffed at this strange
happening.They had come round in a circle. Confused by the everlasting vistas
of frozen woods and the monotony of silence and snow, they had come
round and back to the starting-place, or near it.For a while no one spoke. Then Peter, drawing back her slim,
straight shoulders, said,--"Why not stay at the old rock camp to-night? It always seemed
warmer under that shelter. The forest is draughty.""All right," agreed Jim. He could not trust himself to say more,
because the blow was so crushing. They had believed all trouble except
discomfort over for good with the death of their persecutors and their
release from actual starvation, and now for this to happen! To lose
themselves, and a whole week of hard labour, and be back again at the
rock camp!Peggy said nothing at all, but two tears glistened on her lashes
and then froze. You cannot cry when the temperature is thirty or forty
below zero."We've got the deer meat, Pegtop; it will all come right," said
Peter, as she caught up a handful of snow and rubbed her sister's
cheeks vigorously. "Why, even if we have to camp till spring and build
another canoe with knives and a hatchet, we'll do it. What does it
matter, now Neumann's quit this life? We've nothing to be afraid
of."So said all three, cheering each other as they went back on their
own trail to the little camp under the overhanging rocks near the
river bank. They declared it was warmer, and Jim put up the tarpaulin
on poles of spruce, built a good fire, and set about an early
camp, that they might have a
good rest for the new start.The night was bright in that clearness of atmosphere; the stars
seemed to hang low in the amazing vault, large, shining, and
winking. It was all astonishing in its beauty and merciless
strength."Let's go down to the big boulder and look at the river before we
go to bed," said Peggy. "We've had so much forest, I want to see the
great broad trail again."So they went, all three and Raa, and gazed at the wonderful frozen
road with its fringe of black forest and the white stars glittering
down at the stainless snow. Then suddenly Raa lifted his head,
sniffing the air, and Peter said,--"Hush! Oh, hark!"They fell silent, listening fascinated to the lilt of a song that came up the broad road from the east, clear as a bell on the frozen night,--"Have you heard the cry of the Long
Lachine,When happy is the sun in the morning?The rapids long and the banks of green,As we ride away in the morning,On the froth of the Long Lachine?""Dad used to whistle that," murmured Peter. "It's one of the songs
of the timber men when the
logs come down the big rivers. Oh, how sweet!""Corraine," said Jim shortly. "Our luck holds, Pegtop, eh?"Peggy said nothing. She was listening with all her heart as well as
her ears to the song of the river men as they guide the huge rafts
down river with deft handling of the "peavie," the long, spiked
pole.Jim went out on the river to look, waved his hand towards his
sisters, and ran at his best speed, considering the powdery snow. The
girls looked at one another and waited."Dogs--listen to them," said Peter. "And look at Raa! He's getting
ready to fight the team on sight!"The song stopped, and they heard Corraine's gay cry, "Ohé,
mon brave!" as he recognized Jim; then for a minute or two there was
silence."If we hadn't got lost we should not have come back," said
Peggy. "If we hadn't come back we might have missed Pierre--we didn't
know what trail he usually takes. That's what mother says--when things
look black it's oftenest for a good purpose.""That's so," agreed Peter. Then she added, with her deep-set eyes
dancing a little, "Besides, as you can't help yourself, best thing
is to face the knocks
upright. But sure, Pegtop, this is rather wonderful. I've hardly
started on being thankful yet, I'm so surprised; but the thankfulness
is going to last, it's come to stay--taken root."Pierre Corraine was not alone this time. He had got a lanky, silent
man, Tybalt Coxe, with him, a hunter of fame. They were friends, the
one so gay, the other glum and observant, with huge hands and a jaw
like a bear trap. Also, there were six dogs--a grand team of huskies
belonging to the North-Western Mounted Police, on whose business
Corraine was coming south at top speed.When the tales were told round the fire it seemed plain that had
the Lockharts achieved their aim and cut through the peninsula to the
river they would have missed this team, as Pierre and his partner were
taking a much more direct way south, straight down to Cumberland House
Settlement on the Saskatchewan River, not following the
Missinnippi. He and Tybalt conferred briefly, and then decided to join
party with the others and see them well on their way to the Log
House.It does not take long to tell a story that is very long in the
doing, and Peter made short work of theirs, but the hunters
understood. From first to last they read between the lines what these two girls and the boy
had gone through."Zat Neumann he wass a hound!" Pierre's eyes shot sparks."Low-down cur--aw," put in Tybalt, taking his pipe from his lips
for the first time. "Cree got him--always do. Low-down trick he played
on that Cree, too."And it was then the Lockharts heard for the first time the true
story of Kee-way-din's wrongs; his vengeance they had seen.Tybalt said it wasn't the first time those partners had stolen
valuable pelts from the winter shacks of hunters, or even from the
actual traps. The Cree was a clever hunter, and had a district north
of Great Slave. Neumann had stolen his silver fox pelts when he was
away hunting and fled south to sell them. The Cree got on his trail
and caught him up. Neumann shot him and destroyed his ear,
incidentally almost his life. The Cree followed on in spite of all,
and it was there the Lockharts could fill in the story. He'd poisoned
the dogs as chance offered, but with no weapon but his trade gun he
was handicapped against two men with rifles. Afraid to attack at the
settlement, he'd bided his time and followed the trail again
north--slow, but sure as
fate, paying his debt in the end at the rock camp."If he don' pay back ze tribe tink him poor fool," explained
Pierre. "Injun he can't afford be treat contempt--it burn his heart
till he pay." He shrugged expressively. "Now this Cree he shall be
proud to have no ear, because he knife one, two enemy; also--he get
Engleesh rifle--very great brave in his tribe now--voilà, c'est tout!"Afterwards Jim told Corraine about the gold, and explained rather
bashfully that they hadn't mentioned the object of their long trail
because he was a stranger. Again Pierre shrugged and twinkled; he knew
a good deal--all the north knew a good deal--about poor Tom Lockhart's
pile; but no one knew where he'd hidden it--except, roughly, Gijik the
Cedar and his gentle little squaw Mitawawa."Old Gijik's a white man," said Tybalt. "He wouldn't touch a pinch
of dust that wasn't his. Did you give him an English rifle,
Lockhart?"Jim explained that he'd given the money to buy one as a small
return for services."Well, he got one at the Fort. Mortal struck on it he was, too! We
knew he'd got it honest or he wouldn't have had it. He went up north
as proud as a peacock with two
tails." Tybalt chuckled good-naturedly.The next day the combined parties started on the trail for home,
Raa making a seventh in the dog team, and the small toboggan lashed
upside-down on the top of the load, which included that three hundred
pounds of gold dust, and the rest of the pack.The swiftness and ease of it all compared to the previous weeks of
strain was glorious to the girls. Peter had never enjoyed herself so
much, she said. Peggy did not speak. Jim seemed to grow every
twenty-four hours. In the evenings round the camp fire they told the
full story of the Gold Trail bit by bit, and heard amazing stories
from the hunters that "put them wise" about life on the trail through
forest and along rivers. These men knew the north as the Lockharts
knew their Missinnippi and woods. They learned a great deal those
nights, with the snow piled up in a white wall round the camp, and the
glow of the fire dancing red upon it.Sometimes Peter's "sweet loves" howled a chorus out of the frozen
forest, but the party was too strong to mind.Best of all the girls loved it when Pierre could be induced to sing
the Song of the Scarlet Hunter. He would sing the Caribou Song, or the Chant of the River
Men, but seldom the most beautiful song of all, and only when he was
in the mood:--"O son of man, behold!If thou shouldst stumble on the nameless trail,The trail that no man rides,Lift up thy heart;Behold, O son of man, thou hast a Helper near!O son of man, take heed!If thou shouldst fall upon the vacant plain,The plain that no man loves,Reach out thy hand.Take heed, O son of man; strength shall be given thee.O son of man, rejoice!If thou art blinded even at the door,The door of the Safe Tent,Sing in thy heart.Rejoice, O son of man; thy Pilot leads thee Home."It was the end of January when the three, with Raa, climbed the
snow slope to the door of the Log House, and saw the glow of the stove
and lamps through the windows.Old Hearne and Donald saw them first, and the ancient hunter looked
long, then he said, "The Lord save us!" with something like awe.Donald came racing, and checked to gaze "Hul-lo!" he exclaimed--and was silent.Could this tall man with the strong, burned face be Jim--Jim, the
silent and rather stodgy brother, who was slow in the uptake?And this long-limbed, boy-like woman, with serious, hawk-like eyes,
set deep in a brown, clean-cut face--could that be his special "pard"
Peter?Peggy was the least changed. She looked small beside the
others. The roundness of her face was gone, and her blue-grey eyes,
very large and sweet, had an expression as though they had seen over
the edge of things, and looked sorrow in the face with courage."I say, you've got old Raa!" cried Donald, edging away from
something that made him shy, and taking refuge in the everyday.Dolly came out, a little ball of furry garments, and called in a
high voice,--"Boxer's grown into a bear--you never saw
anything so big."And then Mrs. Lockhart came out, and stood still on the doorstep
looking, looking at her children--her three who had faced summer,
autumn, and winter on the long trail that all men fear."My darlings," she said, and never added, "I thought I'd lost you
all," till much later when they were all rejoicing, and the two hunters had come up to see and
make friends with the mother of a remarkable trio.As every one knows, when people feel deepest they say least, and
the talk there is seems to skim over the surface of things and dwell
on trivial matters. It was like that on this joyful evening at the Log
House, with Pierre Corraine showing his white teeth and kind eyes in a
smile that won the rest of the family, and Tybalt Coxe approving
heartily of the home and its mistress, while Donald and Dolly frankly
worshipped all these heroes and heroines. It took weeks and many
quiet, unexpected moments to teach Mrs. Lockhart all that had happened
in detail, that she might understand the change in her three
children.And when she had heard it all and realized the experiences she
said, "And would you go through it again, Peter?"The only one of the three who would not if she could was
Peggy. "I'm glad I did it, Mum," she said, "but don't ask me to do it
again--some of the times were just black horror.""But that was the enemy," reasoned Peter, "not the North. Winter
and summer, river and forest, the North is a glorious life, and the
more you see the more you want to see."In the spring, when the ice went out, Mrs. Lockhart moved to
Edmonton with Donald and Dolly, the only grief to the young ones being
that Boxer had to stay at the Log House. Peggy, too, went to Edmonton,
but not for long, because she married Pierre Corraine, which made two
"Peters" in the family. Then she went to the Cumberland House
Settlement, with long spells of visiting her mother while Donald was
training to be an engineer.Peter and Jim ran the Log House with old Dick. Members of the
family came back there when the fancy drew them, and then the pair,
sister and brother, went off again on the long trail; and another book
might be filled with their adventures, which were many and strange,
for the call of the North was in their blood, and those whose hearts
answer to that call cannot rest in streets of bricks and mortar--they
must make the pack and be off on the Trail of the Sun Dogs into the
trackless glory of the Wilderness.PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT THE PRESS OF THE PUBLISHERSPage 1 of advertisements from E. E. Cowper's "Girls on the
Gold Trail"Page 2 of advertisements from E. E. Cowper's "Girls on the
Gold Trail"Page 3 of advertisements from E. E. Cowper's "Girls on the
Gold Trail"Page 4 of advertisements from E. E. Cowper's "Girls on the
Gold Trail"