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Title: Troop One of the Labrador

Author: Dillon Wallace

Release date: June 13, 2005 [eBook #16048]
                Most recently updated: December 11, 2020

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Wallace McLean, Diane Monico, and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROOP ONE OF THE LABRADOR ***




Produced by Wallace McLean, Diane Monico, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.











TROOP ONE OF THE LABRADOR




_The Talbot Baines Series_

With fine attractive new wrappers


THE FIFTH FORM AT ST. DOMINIC'S. By Talbot Baines Reed
THE ADVENTURES OF A THREE-GUINEA WATCH. By Talbot Baines Reed
THE COCK-HOUSE AT FELLSGARTH. By Talbot Baines Reed
A DOG WITH A BAD NAME. By Talbot Baines Reed
THE MASTER OF THE SHELL. By Talbot Baines Reed
THE SCHOOL GHOST, AND BOYCOTTED. By Talbot Baines Reed
THE SILVER SHOE. By Major Charles Gilson
THE TREASURE OF TREGUDDA. By Argyll Saxby
THE TWO CAPTAINS OF TUXFORD. By Frank Elias
THE RIDERS FROM THE SEA. By G. Godfray Sellick
A SON OF THE DOGGER. By Walter Wood
A FIFTH FORM MYSTERY. By Harold Avery
A SCOUT OF THE '45. By E. Charles Vivian
FROM SLUM TO QUARTER-DECK. By Gordon Stables
COMRADES UNDER CANVAS. By F.P. Gibbon

(_For Complete List see Catalogue_)

OF All BOOKSELLERS




[Illustration: IT WAS DR. JOE BEYOND A DOUBT!]




TROOP ONE OF THE LABRADOR

BY

DILLON WALLACE

AUTHOR OF "GRIT-A-PLENTY," "THE RAGGED INLET GUARDS," ETC., ETC.


THE "BOY'S OWN PAPER" OFFICE
4 BOUVERIE STREET AND 65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, E.C.4


MADE IN GREAT BRITAIN
_Printed by_
UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED
LONDON AND WOKING




CONTENTS

                                   Page

I. DOCTOR JOE, SCOUTMASTER            9

II. PLANS                            37

III. "'TIS THE GHOST OF LONG JOHN"   51

IV. SHOT FROM BEHIND                 63

V. LEM HORN'S SILVER FOX             71

VI. THE TRACKS IN THE SAND           94

VII. THE MYSTERY OF THE BOAT        109

VIII. TRAILING THE HALF-BREED       120

IX. ELI SURPRISES INDIAN JAKE       126

X. THE END OF ELI'S HUNT            135

XI. THE LETTER IN THE CAIRN         147

XII. THE HIDDEN CACHE               165

XIII. SURPRISED AND CAPTURED        179

XIV. THE TWO DESPERADOS             192

XV. MISSING!                        198

XVI. BOUND AND HELPLESS             206

XVII. LOST IN A BLIZZARD            220

XVIII. A PLACE TO "BIDE"            232

XIX. SEARCHING THE WHITE WILDERNESS 240

XX. "WOLVES!" YELLED ANDY           251

XXI. THE ALARM IN THE NIGHT         259

XXII. THE IMMUTABLE LAW OF GOD      268




ILLUSTRATIONS


IT WAS DR. JOE BEYOND A DOUBT!     _Frontispiece_

                                     Facing Page
STRETCHED UPON THE FLOOR LAY LEM HORN         70

ON THE RIGHT SEETHED THE DEVIL'S TEA
  KETTLE                                     104

"YOU STAND WHERE YOU IS AND DROP YOUR
  GUN!"                                      132

IT WAS A FIGHT TO THE DEATH                  260




Troop One of the Labrador




CHAPTER I

DOCTOR JOE, SCOUTMASTER


"Doctor Joe! Doctor Joe's comin'! He just turned the p'int!"

Jamie Angus burst into the cabin at The Jug breathlessly shouting this
joyful news, and then rushed out again with David and Andy at his
heels.

"Oh, Doctor Joe! It can't be Doctor Joe, now! Can it, Pop? It must be
some one else Jamie sees! It can't be Doctor Joe, _what_ever!"
exclaimed Margaret in a great flutter of excitement.

"Jamie's keen at seein'! He'd know anybody as far as he can see un!"
assured Thomas, no less excited at the news than was Margaret. "But
'tis strange that he's comin' back so soon!"

Of course Margaret, who was laying the table for supper, must needs
follow the boys; and Thomas, who was leaning over the wash basin
removing the grime of the day's toil, snatched the towel from its peg
behind the door and, drying his hands as he ran, sacrificing dignity
to haste, followed Margaret, who had joined the three boys at the end
of the jetty which served as a boat landing.

A skiff had just entered the narrow channel which connected The Jug,
as the bight where the Anguses lived was called, with the wider waters
of Eskimo Bay. There could be no doubt, even at that distance, that
the tall man standing aft and manipulating the long sculling oar, was
Doctor Joe. As the little group gathered on the jetty he took off his
hat and waved it high above his head. It was Doctor Joe beyond a
doubt! The boys waved their caps and shouted at the top of their lusty
young lungs, Margaret, undoing her apron, waved it and added her voice
to the chorus, and Thomas, quite carried away by the excitement, waved
the towel and in a great bellowing voice shouted a louder welcome than
any of them.

There was no happier or better contented family on all The Labrador
than the family of Thomas Angus, though they had their trials and ups
and downs and worries like any other family in or out of Labrador.

"Everybody must expect a bit o' trouble and worry now and again,"
Thomas would say when things did not go as they should. "If we never
had un, and livin' were always fine and clear, we'd forget to be
thankful for our blessin's. We has t' have a share o' trouble in our
lives, and here and there a hard knock whatever, t' know how fine the
good things are and rightly enjoy un when they come. And in the end
troubles never turn out as bad as we're expectin', by half. First and
last there's a wonderful sight more good times than bad uns for all of
us."

Thomas had reason to be proud and thankful. Jamie could see as well as
ever he could, and it was all because of Doctor Joe and his wonderful
operation on Jamie's eyes when it seemed certain the lad was to become
blind. Through the skill of Doctor Joe, Jamie's eyes were every whit
as keen as David's and Andy's, and there were no keener eyes in the
Bay than theirs.

David was now nearly seventeen and Andy was fifteen--brawny,
broad-shouldered lads who had already faced more hardships and had
more adventures to their credit than fall to many a man in a whole
lifetime. In that brave land adventures are to be found at every turn.
They bob up unexpectedly, and the man or boy who meets them
successfully must know the ways of the wilderness and must be
self-reliant and resourceful, must have grit a-plenty and a stout
heart.

Margaret kept house for the little family, a responsibility that had
been thrust upon her, and which she cheerfully accepted, when her
mother was laid to rest and she was a wee lass of twelve. Now she was
eighteen and as tidy and cheerful a little housekeeper as could be
found on the coast, and pretty too, in manner as well as in feature.
"'Tis the manner that counts," said Thomas, and he declared that there
was no prettier lass to be found on the whole Labrador.

Doctor Joe, whose real name was Joseph Carver, was their nearest
neighbour at Break Cove, ten miles down Eskimo Bay. He had come to the
coast nine years before, a mysterious stranger, nervous and broken in
health. Thomas gave him shelter at The Jug, helped him build his
cabin at Break Cove and taught him the ways of the land and how to set
his traps. Doctor Joe became a trapper like his neighbours, and in
time, with wholesome living in the out-of-doors, regained his health
and came to love his adopted country and its rugged life.

No one knew then that Joseph Carver was indeed a doctor, but he was so
handy with bandages and medicines that the folk of the Bay recognized
his skill and soon fell, by common consent, to calling him "Doctor
Joe."

It was a year before our story begins that Jamie had first complained
of a mist in his eyes. With passing weeks the mist thickened, and one
day Doctor Joe examined the eyes and announced that only a delicate
and serious operation could save the lad's sight. This demanded that
Jamie be taken to a hospital in New York where a specialist might
operate. It was an expensive undertaking. Neither Thomas nor Doctor
Joe had the necessary money, but Thomas hoped to realize enough from
his winter's trapping in the interior and Doctor Joe was to add the
proceeds of his own winter's work to the fund. Then Thomas broke his
leg. Doctor Joe must needs remain at The Jug to care for him, and
there seemed no hope for Jamie but a life of darkness.

But David was confident that he could take his father's place on the
trails, and with some persuasion, for the need was desperate, Thomas
consented that David and Andy should spend the winter in the great
interior wilderness with no other companion than Indian Jake, a
half-breed.

That was an experience needing the stoutest heart. Through long dreary
months they faced the sub-arctic cold and fearful blizzards that swept
the wilderness, following silent trails over wide white wastes or
through the depths of dark forests, and falling upon many a wild
adventure that tried their mettle a hundred times. It was a man's job,
but they both made good, and that is something to be proud of--to make
good at the job you tackle.

Jamie had pluck too, but pluck alone could not save his eyes. The mist
thickened more rapidly than Doctor Joe had expected it would, and
there came a time when Jamie could scarcely see at all. Then it was
that Doctor Joe announced one day before the return of David and Andy
from the trails, that the operation could be no longer delayed if
Jamie's eyesight was to be saved, and that to attempt to delay it
until the ice cleared from the coast and the mail boat came to bear
him away to New York would be fatal.

After making this announcement, Doctor Joe revealed the fact that he
had once been a great eye surgeon. With Thomas's consent he offered to
perform the operation on Jamie's eyes. Thomas had unbounded faith in
his friend. Doctor Joe operated and Jamie's sight was saved.

In curing Jamie, Doctor Joe discovered that he himself was cured, and
that he was again in possession of all his former skill. It was quite
natural, therefore, that he should wish to resume the practice of
surgery. He was an indifferent trapper, and the living that he made
following the trails amounted to a bare existence. He decided,
therefore, that it was his duty to himself to return to the work for
which, during long years of study, he had been trained.

Six weeks before Doctor Joe had sailed away on the mail boat from Fort
Pelican, bound for New York, that far distant, mysterious, wonderful
city of which he had told so many marvellous tales. Thomas had grave
doubts that they would ever see him again, though he had said that he
would some day return to visit his friends at The Jug and to see his
own little deserted cabin at Break Cove, where he had spent so many
lonely but profitable years, for it was here that he had rebuilt his
broken health. He had good reason to love the place, and he was quite
sure he had no better or truer friends in all the world than Thomas
Angus and his family.

"Thomas," said he at parting, "if I had the means to support myself I
would stay here on The Labrador and be doctor to the people that need
me, for there are folk enough that need a doctor's help up and down
the coast. But I'm a poor man, and if I stopped here I'd have to make
my living as a trapper, and you know how poor a trapper I've been all
these years. Back in New York I can do much good, and there I can live
as I was reared to live. But I'll not forget you, Thomas, and some day
I'll come to see you."

"I'm not doubtin' 'tis best you go and the Lord's will," said Thomas.
"But we'll be missin' you sore, Doctor Joe. I scarce knows how we'll
get on without you. 'Twill seem strange--almost like you were dead,
I'm fearin'."

"Thomas," and Doctor Joe's voice trembled with emotion, "there's no
one in the wide world nearer my affections than you and the boys and
Margaret. It hurts me to go, but it's best I should. I might scratch
along here for a few years, but I was not born to the work and the
time would come when I'd be a burden on some one, and it would make me
unhappy. I know that I'll wish often enough to be back here with you
at The Jug."

"You'd never be a burden, _what_ever!" Thomas declared, quite shocked
at the suggestion. "I feels beholden to you, Doctor Joe. There's nary
a thing I could ever do to make up to you for savin' Jamie's eyes. You
made un as good as new. He'd ha' been stone blind now if 'tweren't for
you--and the mercy o' God."

"The mercy of God," Doctor Joe repeated reverently.

And here at the end of six weeks was Doctor Joe back again. What
wonder that Thomas Angus and his family were quite beside themselves
with joy, shouting themselves hoarse down there on the jetty.

And presently, when the skiff drew alongside, and Doctor Joe stepped
out upon the jetty, he was quite overwhelmed with the welcome he
received.

"Well, Thomas," he said as they walked up to the cabin with Jamie
clinging to one of his hands and Andy to the other, "here I am back
again, as you see. I couldn't stay away from you dear, good people. I
may as well confess, I was homesick for you before I reached New York,
and I'm back to stay. I found my fortune had been made while I was
here, and now I can do as I please."

"Oh, that's fine now!" exclaimed Margaret. "'Tis fine if you're to
stay!"

"We were missin' you sore," said Thomas. "'Tis like the Lord's
blessin' to have you back at The Jug!"

"And there's good old Roaring Brook!" Doctor Joe stopped for a moment
with half closed eyes, to listen to the rush of water over the rocks,
where Roaring Brook tumbled down into The Jug. "It's the sweetest
music I've heard since I left here! And the smell of the spruce trees!
And such a scene! Thomas, my friend, it's a rugged land where we live,
but it's God's own land, just as He made it, beautiful, and undefiled
by man!"

Doctor Joe turned about and stretched his right arm toward the south.
Before them lay the shimmering placid waters of The Jug, reaching away
to join the wider, greater waters of Eskimo Bay. In the distance,
beyond the Bay, the snow-capped peaks of the Mealy Mountains stood in
silent majesty, now reflecting the last brilliant rays of the setting
sun. As they tarried, watching them, the light faded and shafts of
orange and red rose out of the west. The waters became a throbbing
expanse of colour, and the woods on the Point, at the entrance to The
Jug, sank into purple.

"'Tis a bit of the light of heaven that the Lord lets out of evenin's
for us to see," said Jamie, and perhaps Jamie was right.

"You must be rare hungry, now," observed Thomas, as they entered the
cabin. "Margaret were just puttin' supper on when Jamie sights you
turnin' the P'int. 'Twill be ready in a jiffy."

"What have you got for us, Margaret?" asked Doctor Joe. "I believe I
am hungry for the good things you cook."

"Fried trout, sir," said Margaret.

"Fried trout!" Doctor Joe rolled his eyes in mock ecstasy. "It
couldn't have been better!"

"You always says that, whatever," laughed Margaret. "If 'twere just
bread and tea I'm thinkin' you'd like un fine."

"But trout!" exclaimed Doctor Joe. "Why, fresh trout are worth five
dollars a pound where I've been--and couldn't be had for that!"

"Well, now!" said Margaret in astonishment. "And we has un so
plentiful!"

David lighted a lamp and Thomas renewed the fire, which crackled
cheerily in the big box stove, while everybody talked excitedly and
Margaret set on the table a big dish of smoking fried trout, a heaping
plate of bread, and poured the tea.

"Set in! Set in, Doctor Joe!" Thomas invited.

And when they drew up to the table, with Thomas at one end and
Margaret at the other, and Doctor Joe and Jamie at Thomas's right, and
David and Andy at his left, Thomas devoutly gave thanks for the return
of their friend and asked a blessing upon the bounty provided.

"Help yourself, now, and don't be afraid of un," Thomas admonished,
passing the dish of trout to Doctor Joe.

"A real banquet," Doctor Joe declared, as he helped himself
liberally. "I've eaten in some fine places since I've been away, but
I've had no such feast as this! And there's no one in the whole world
can fry trout like Margaret!"

"You always says that, sir," and Margaret's face glowed with pleasure
at the compliment.

"'Tis true!" declared Doctor Joe. "'Tis true!"

"I'm wonderin' now about the trout," remarked David.

"What are you wondering?" asked Doctor Joe.

"How folks get along with no trout to eat off where you've been, sir."

"There are men who go far out from the city and fish in the streams
for trout, just for the sport of catching them," explained Doctor Joe.
"They will tramp all day along brooks, and feel lucky if they catch a
dozen little fellows so small we'd not look at them here. But it is
only the few who do it for sport that ever get any at all, and there
are hundreds of people there who never even saw a trout, they catch so
very few of them."

"'Twould seem like a waste o' time," remarked Thomas, "if they
catches so few. I'd never walk all day for a dozen trout unless I was
wonderful hard up for grub. If I were wantin' fish so bad I'd set a
net for whitefish or salmon, or if there were cod grounds about I'd
gig for cod, though salmon or cod or whitefish would never be takin'
the place o' good fresh trout with me."

"It's not altogether for the trout the sportsmen tramp the streams all
day," laughed Doctor Joe. "They prize the trout they get as a great
delicacy, to be sure, but it's the joy of getting out into the open
that pays them for the effort. I've done it myself. They get plenty of
sea fish, they buy them at the shops."

"I never were thinkin' o' that," said Thomas. "I'm thinkin', now,
that's where all the salmon we salts down and sells to the Post goes."

The boys were vastly interested, and asked many questions, which
Doctor Joe answered with infinite patience, concerning the various
kinds of fish people bought in the shops, and how the fish were caught
and shipped to the shops to be sold fresh.

"And you'll stay now? You'll not be leavin' The Labrador again?"
asked Thomas, after supper.

"Aye," said Doctor Joe, "I've elected to be a Labradorman." Then,
turning to the boys, he suggested:

"Lads, there are a lot of things in that skiff of mine. I wish you'd
bring them in. Will you do it while your father and I visit?"

The boys were not only glad but eager to do it, for there were
doubtless many surprises for themselves in the skiff, and with one
accord the three hurried out.

"Years ago, Thomas," said Doctor Joe, when the boys were gone, "in my
days in New York, I invested a little money in a mining property.
Shortly after I made the investment it was said the ore had run out,
and I believed my money was lost. When I returned to New York this
summer I found that more ore had been found later, and the mine had
earned me a lot of money. I invested what was due to me in such a way
that it will bring me an income each year sufficient to provide me
with all I shall ever need."

"Oh, but that's fine now!" said Thomas.

"Thomas," Doctor Joe continued "I should not have been able to enjoy
this had it not been for your kindness to me years ago, when I came
first to The Labrador a man of broken health. If you had not offered
me your friendship then I should have died an invalid in poverty.

"I've thought of this a thousand times. I believe God sent me here. I
only knew then that I came because I sought a secluded spot on the
earth where I could find relief from turmoil. Now, I believe He guided
me to The Labrador and to The Jug to you. He had something for me to
do in the world, and this was His way of saving me.

"When Jamie needed me I was here, and because you had befriended me I
was prepared with God's help and with my skill and training to restore
Jamie's eyesight. There are others on the coast who need a doctor's
skill just as Jamie needed it, and they have no one to help them. I
have decided that I shall be doctor to the people. If I can help the
folk, as I am sure I can, I'll be happy in the knowledge that I'm
making some little return for the great deal that you have done for
me."

"I were never doin' much for you, Doctor Joe--just what one man would
always do for another," Thomas protested. "But 'twill be a blessin'
to the folk of The Labrador to have you doctor un! We all need doctors
often enough when there's none to be had, and folks die for the need
of un."

"Yes, folks die here for the need of a doctor," Doctor Joe agreed,
"and I hope I may be the means of saving lives and giving relief."

The three boys broke in upon them with their arms full of packages.

"There's a lot more!" exclaimed Jamie depositing his load upon the
floor.

"Perhaps we had better help them, Thomas," suggested Doctor Joe,
rising.

"Oh, no, sir," Jamie protested. "Let us bring un up!"

And so said David and Andy also. They quickly had the contents of the
skiff transferred to the cabin, and the exciting process of opening
the packages began.

The first to be opened was for Margaret, and it contained many pretty
and useful things, including two neat, substantial warm dresses, finer
than any Margaret had ever before possessed or seen. Her eyes sparkled
as she held them up for inspection, and she exclaimed over and over
again:

"Oh, how wonderful pretty they is!"

For the boys there were innumerable gifts dear to boys' hearts,
including a compass and a watch for each. For Thomas there was a fine
pair of field-glasses, a compass and a very fine watch indeed, and he
was as pleased and happy as the others.

"The glasses'll be a wonderful help t' me in huntin'," he declared.
"When I climbs hills for a look around I can see deer that I'd sure to
be missin' with no glasses. I'm not doubtin' the compass'll come in
handy now and again in thick weather."

Then there was a big box of goodies. There were such candies as they
had never dreamed of--oranges and big red-cheeked apples. Even Thomas
had never before in his life tasted an orange or an apple, and they
all declared that they had never imagined that anything could be so
good. It was quite astonishing to learn that in the great world from
which Doctor Joe had come there were people who ate oranges and apples
every day of their lives if they wished them.

"'Tis strange the way the Lord fixes things," observed Thomas. "Here
now we never saw the like of oranges and apples before in all our
lives, but we has plenty of trout, and there are folks out there that
has no trout but they all has oranges and apples. We has so many trout
we forgets how fine they is, and what a blessin' 'tis we has un. And
I'm thinkin' 'tis the same with them folks about the oranges and
apples."

"Yes," agreed Doctor Joe, "it's only when things are taken away from
us that we really appreciate them. Jamie, no doubt, appreciates his
eyes much more than he would have done had the mist never clouded
them."

"Aye, 'tis so," said Thomas.

"I dare say," Doctor Joe suggested, "that you've never eaten potatoes
or onions?"

"No," said Thomas, "I've heard of un, but I never eats un. I never had
any to eat."

"Well," announced Doctor Joe, "I've had several sacks of potatoes and
a sack of onions and two barrels of apples shipped to Fort Pelican
with a quantity of other goods. We'll have to go with the big boat for
them."

The boys and Margaret were quite beside themselves with the wonder of
it all, and Thomas was little less excited.

"We'll go for un to-morrow or the next day whatever," said Thomas.

There was one box still unopened, and the three boys were eyeing it
expectantly, when Doctor Joe exclaimed:

"Here we've left till the last the most important thing of all. Get an
axe, David, and we'll knock the cover off this box."

David had the axe in a jiffy, and when Doctor Joe removed the cover
the box was found to be filled with books.

"O-h-h!" breathed the boys in unison.

"'Tis fine! Oh, I've been wishin' and wishin' for books t' look at and
read!" exclaimed Margaret.

Doctor Joe had taught them all to read and write in the years he had
been with them, an accomplishment that not every boy and girl on The
Labrador possessed, for there were no schools there.

"There are some books to study and some to read. There are story books
and books about birds and flowers and animals. And here is something
that I know will please the boys," said Doctor Joe, drawing from the
box six paper-bound volumes. "There's an interesting story attached to
these books that I must tell you before you look at them, and then
we'll go through them together.

"One day I was walking in a park in New York.

"Suddenly I heard a crashing noise, and I hurried in the direction in
which I heard the noise, and turning a corner saw a motor-car lying on
its side. Some boys wearing khaki-coloured uniforms, very much like
soldiers' uniforms, had already reached the wreck, and before I came
up with them had rescued two injured men. I never saw more efficient
or prompt service than those boys were giving the poor men, who were
both badly hurt. They had the men stretched out upon the grass. One
had a severed artery in his arm, where the arm had been cut upon the
broken glass wind shield. The man's blood was pouring in great spurts
through the wound, but the boys were already adjusting the tourniquet,
for which they used a handkerchief, and in a minute they had the
bleeding stopped, as well as I could have done it. I've no doubt they
saved the man's life, for without prompt help he'd have bled to death
in a short time.

"The other man was cut and bruised, and the boys were making him as
comfortable as possible until an ambulance came to take him to a
hospital. There was really nothing I could do that the boys had not
already done promptly and remarkably well.

"The instant they had discovered the accident two boys had run away to
summon an ambulance and to notify the police, and in a little while an
ambulance with a surgeon and two policemen came and took the men away.

"The boys were only about Andy's age, and I wondered at their training
and efficiency. When the ambulance had gone with the injured men I
walked a little way with the boys, and learned that they belonged to a
wonderful organization called 'Boy Scouts.' I had heard of Boy Scouts,
but I supposed it was one of the ordinary clubs where boys got
together just for play.

"I was so much interested that I looked up the head office of the Boy
Scouts, and asked questions about them. Then I bought these copies of
the _Boy Scout's Handbook_. They tell about the things the scouts do,
and how a boy may become a scout. I knew you chaps would be so
interested you would each want a book, so I bought a half-dozen
copies. The extra books we can give to other boys up the Bay."

"Could we be scouts?" asked Andy breathlessly.

"Yes, to be sure!" Doctor Joe smiled.

"'Twould be rare fun, now!" exclaimed David.

"All of us scouts, just like the boys in New York?" Jamie asked, his
face aglow.

"Yes," answered Doctor Joe. "I knew you chaps would like to be scouts.
We'll organize a troop, and we'll call it Troop One of The Labrador.
There are Boy Scouts of America, and Boy Scouts of England, and Boy
Scouts of nearly every country in the world except The Labrador. We'll
be the Boy Scouts of The Labrador, and become a part of the great army
of scouts. It'll be something to be proud of."

"How'll we do it?" asked David.

"I'll be leader, or scoutmaster as they call the leader," explained
Doctor Joe. "These books explain all about the things we're to do.

"Before you become tenderfoot scouts you'll have to learn some
things," Doctor Joe continued, after looking through one of the
handbooks, until he found the proper page. "You can tie all the knots
already. You do that every day. But there are plenty of boys, and men
too, where I came from that can't even tie the ordinary square knot.

"You'll have to learn the oath and law. You live pretty close to the
requirements of the law now, but it'll be necessary to learn it, and
I'll explain then what each law means. You'll have to learn what the
scout badge stands for and how it's made up, and other things."

Doctor Joe carefully marked the necessary pages and references.

"Now about the flag," said Doctor Joe. "You'll have to learn about the
formation of the flag and what it stands for. This book is for the Boy
Scouts of America, and the flag it refers to is the United States
flag. I'm an American, but you chaps are living in British territory
and you're British subjects, so you'll have to learn about the British
flag or Union Jack, as it's called, for that's your flag.

"The Union Jack is the national flag of the whole British Empire. The
English flag was originally a red cross on a white field. This is
called the flag of St. George. Three hundred years ago King James the
First added to it the banner of Scotland, which was a blue flag with
a white cross, called St. Andrew's Cross, lying upon the blue from
corner to corner--that is diagonally."

Doctor Joe opened his travelling bag and drew forth two small flags,
one the Stars and Stripes and the other the British Union Jack.

"I nearly forgot about these," said he, spreading the flags upon the
table. "This is the flag of my country," and he caressed the United
States flag affectionately. "I love it as you should love your flag.
The Union Jack is the emblem of the great British Empire, of which you
are a part. It is one of the greatest and best countries in the world
to live in. To be a British subject is something to be proud of
indeed."

"Aye," broke in Thomas, "'tis that, now."

"Yes," continued Doctor Joe, "I want you to be as proud of it as I am
that I'm a citizen of the United States, and I'm so proud of it I
wouldn't change for any other country in the world. When I reached St.
John's and saw the American flag flying over the office of the United
States Consulate, my eyes filled with tears. I hadn't seen that old
flag for years, and I stood in the street for an hour doing nothing
but look at it and think of all it represents. It makes my blood
tingle just to touch it. You chaps must feel the same toward the
British flag, for that's your flag.

"Now let me show you how the flag is made up," and Doctor Joe
proceeded to trace St. George's Cross and St. Andrew's Cross,
explaining them again as he did so. "In the year 1801 another banner
was added. This was the Banner of St. Patrick of Ireland. St.
Patrick's Cross was a red diagonal cross on a white field, and here
you see it."

Doctor Joe traced it on the flag.

"There," he went on, "you have the British flag complete. No one knows
exactly why it is called the 'Jack,' but it may have been because in
the old days, the English knights, when they went out to fight their
battles, wore a jacket over their armour with the St. George's Cross
upon it, so it would be known to what nation they belonged. This
jacket was sometimes called a 'jack' for short.

"The Union Jack did not become a complete flag as we have it to-day
until the year 1801, when St. Patrick's Cross was added to it. The
Stars and Stripes, the flag of my country, was first made in 1776,
and on June 14, 1777, it was adopted by the United States Congress as
the national emblem, so you see it is even older than the British
flag. The flags of all nations in the world have changed since 1777
excepting only the United States flag, and every American is proud of
the fact that his flag is older than the flag of any other Christian
nation in the world."

The boys, and Thomas and Margaret also, were fascinated with Doctor
Joe's brief story of the flags. They were quite excited with the
thought that they were to be a part of the great army of Boy Scouts,
and to do the same things that other boys in far-away lands were
doing, and the other boys that they had never seen seemed suddenly
very much nearer to them and more like themselves than they had ever
seemed before.

The three buried their noses in the handbook, now and again asking
Doctor Joe questions. They were so excited and so interested, indeed,
that they could scarcely lay the books aside when Thomas announced
that it was time to "turn in," and Andy declared he could hardly wait
for morning when they could be at them again.

And so it came about that Troop I, Boy Scouts of The
Labrador, was organized, and in the nature of things the troop was
destined to meet many adventures and unusual experiences.




CHAPTER II

PLANS


The cabin at The Jug had three rooms. There was a square living-room,
entered through an enclosed porch on its western grade. At the end of
the living-room opposite the entrance were two doors, one leading to
Margaret's room, the other to the room occupied by the boys. Thomas
himself slept in a bunk, resembling a ship's bunk, built against the
north wall.

The furnishings of the living-room consisted of a home-made table, a
big box stove, three home-made chairs and some chests, which served
the double purpose of storage places for clothing and seats. A
cupboard was built against the wall at the left of the entrance, and
between two windows on the south side of the room, which looked out
upon The Jug, was a shelf upon which Thomas kept his Bible and
Margaret her sewing basket--a little basket which she had woven
herself from native grasses. Behind the stove was a bench, upon which
stood a bucket of water and the family wash basin, and over the basin
hung a towel for general family use.

Pasted upon the walls were pictures from old newspapers and magazines.
There were no other decorations but these and snowy muslin curtains at
the windows, but the floor, table, chairs--all the woodwork,
indeed--were scoured to immaculate whiteness with sand and soap, and
everything was spotlessly clean and tidy. Despite the austere
simplicity of the room and its furnishings, it possessed an
indescribable atmosphere of cosy comfort.

Doctor Joe's bed was spread upon the floor. It was still candle-light
when he was awakened by Thomas building a fire in the stove, for in
this land of stern living there is no lolling in bed of mornings.

"Good-morning, Thomas," said Doctor Joe, with a yawn and a stretch as
he sat up.

"Marnin'," said Thomas.

"How's the morning, Thomas, fair for our trip to Fort Pelican?"

"Aye, 'tis a fine marnin'," announced Thomas, "but I were thinkin'
'twould be better to wait over till to-morrow for the trip. After your
long voyage 'twould be a bit trying for you to turn back to-day to
Fort Pelican without restin' up, and I'm not doubtin' a day
whatever'll do no harm to the potaters and things."

"I believe you're right, Thomas," and Doctor Joe spoke with evident
relief. "I thought you'd be getting ready for the trapping and would
like to get the Fort Pelican trip out of the way. We'll put the trip
off till to-morrow."

Doctor Joe dressed hurriedly, and went out to enjoy the cool, crisp
morning. Everything was white with hoarfrost. The air was charged with
the perfume of balsam and spruce and other sweet odours of the forest.
Doctor Joe took long, deep, delicious breaths as he looked about him
at the familiar scene.

The last stars were fading in the growing light. A low mist hung over
The Jug, and beyond the haze lay the dark, heaving waters of Eskimo
Bay. In the distance beyond the Bay the high peaks of the Mealy
Mountains rose out of the gloom, white with snow and looming above the
dark forest at their base in cold and silent majesty. Behind the
cabin stretched the vast, mysterious, unbounded wilderness which held,
hidden in its unmeasured depths, rivers and lakes and mountains that
no man, save the wandering Indian, had ever looked upon--great
solitudes whose silence had remained unbroken through the ages.

"If some of those Boy Scouts could only see this!" exclaimed Doctor
Joe.

"'Twere fashioned by the Almighty for comfortable livin'," said
Thomas, who had called Margaret and the boys and come out unobserved
by Doctor Joe. "There's no better shelter on the coast, and no better
place for seals and salmon, with neighbours handy when we wants to see
un, and plenty o' room to stretch. 'Tis the finest _I_ ever saw,
whatever."

"Yes, 'tis all of that," agreed Doctor Joe. "But I wasn't thinking now
of The Jug alone. I was thinking of the majestic grandeur of the whole
scene. I was enjoying the freedom from the noise and scramble, the
dirt and smoke and smudge of the city, with its piles upon piles of
ugly buildings, and never a breath of such pure air as this to be
breathed. I was thinking of these fine young chaps, the Boy Scouts I
saw there, who are trying to study God's big out-of-doors and must
content themselves with stingy little parks. It's the love of Nature
that takes them to the parks, and compared with this they have a poor
substitute. This is the world as God made it, with all its primordial
beauty. We're fortunate that circumstances placed us here, Thomas, and
we should be for ever thankful."

"I'm wonderin' now," observed Thomas, as he and Doctor Joe paced up
and down the gravelly beach, "why folks ever lives in such places as
you tells about. There's plenty o' room down here on The Labrador, and
plenty o' other places, I'm not doubtin', where they'd be free from
the crowds and dirt, and have plenty o' room to stretch, and live fine
like we lives."

"We're a thousand miles from a railway," said Doctor Joe. "Most of the
people in the cities wouldn't live a thousand paces from a railway if
they could help themselves. They take a car and ride if they've only
half a mile to go. They ride so much they've almost forgotten how to
walk. They like crowds. They'd be lonesome if they were away from
them."

"'Tis strange, wonderful strange, how some folks lives," remarked
Thomas, quite astonished that any could prefer the city to his own
big, free Labrador. "When folks has enough to keep un busy they never
gets lonesome, and bein' idle is like wastin' a part of life. A man
could never be lonesome where there's plenty o' water and woods about.
I always finds jobs a-plenty to turn my hand to, and I has no time to
feel lonesome. And I never could live where I didn't have room enough
to stretch, _what_ever."

"That's it!" Doctor Joe spoke decisively. "Room enough to stretch mind
as well as body. Why, Thomas, I've often heard men say that they had
to 'kill time', and didn't know what to do with themselves for hours
together!"

"'Tis wicked and against the Lord's will," and Thomas shook his head.
"The Lord never wants folks to be idle or kill time. He fixes it so
there's a-plenty of useful things for everybody to do all the time,
and they wants to do un."

"'Tis the measure of a man's worth," remarked Doctor Joe. "The
worth-while man never has an hour to kill. The day hasn't hours
enough for him. It's the other kind that kill time--the sort that are
not, and never will be, of much account in the world."

They walked a little in silence, each busy with his own thoughts, when
Thomas remarked:

"The Lord has been wonderful good to me, Doctor Joe, givin' me three
as fine lads and as fine a lass as He ever gave a man. Then He saves
the little lad's eyes, when they were goin' blind, by sendin' you to
cure un. And when I were breakin' my leg and couldn't work He sends
along Indian Jake to go to the trails to hunt with David and Andy, and
they makes a fine hunt and keeps us out o' debt. And this summer we
has as fine a catch of salmon as ever we has, and we're through with
un a fortnight ahead of ever before, with all the barrels filled and
the gear stowed, and the salt salmon traded in at the Post, and plenty
o' flour and pork and molasses and tea t' see us through the winter,
_what_ever."

"Last year at this time things looked pretty blue for us," said Doctor
Joe, "but everything worked out well in the end, Thomas."

"Aye," agreed Thomas, "wonderful well. I'm thinkin' that if we does
our best t' help ourselves when troubles come the Lord is like t' step
in and give us a hand. He wants us to do the best we can t' help
ourselves and when He sees we're doin' it He lifts the troubles."

"That's true," agreed Doctor Joe, "and if a man takes advantage of
every opportunity that comes to him, and don't waste his time, he's
pretty sure to succeed."

"Aye, that he is," said Thomas. "Now I were thinkin' that the lads
worked so wonderful hard at the salmon th' summer, I'd let un go with
you to Fort Pelican t' manage the boat, and I'll be staying home to
make ready for the trail. There's a-plenty to be done yet to make
ready without hurry, and a trip to Fort Pelican will be a rare treat
for the lads. But I'll go if you wants. I were just askin' if 'twould
be suitin' you if I stays home and lets they go?"

"Why, of course! That's great! Simply great!" exclaimed Doctor Joe.
"The boys will make a fine crew! Will Jamie go too?"

"Aye, Jamie's been workin' like a man, and he'll be keen for the
trip," said Thomas. "And last night I were thinkin' after I goes to
bed how fine 'tis that you're to be doctor to the coast. Indian
Jake's to be my trappin' pardner th' winter, and the lads'll 'bide
home. You'll be needin' dogs and komatik (sledge) to take you about.
There'll be little enough for the dogs to do, and you'll be welcome to
un. The lads can do the drivin' for you and whatever you wants un to
do. Use un all you needs. I wants to do my share to help you do the
doctorin'."

"Thank you! Thank you, Thomas!" Doctor Joe accepted gratefully. "This
will make it possible for me to see a good many people that I
otherwise would not be able to see, and make it easier for me also."

"Aye," said Thomas, "I were thinkin' that too, and the lads will be
glad enough to lend you a hand when you needs un."

It was broad daylight. While Thomas and Doctor Joe talked on the
beach, the boys had been busily engaged in carrying the day's supply
of water from Roaring Brook to a water barrel in the porch. Now Jamie
appeared to announce breakfast. While they ate the boys were able to
talk of little else than the scout books, and the fact they were to do
as boys did in other parts of the world. And they were delighted
beyond measure when they learned that they were to make the voyage to
Fort Pelican with Doctor Joe. It was an event of vast importance.

"There'll be plenty o' time in the boat to study the scout book
things," Andy suggested. "Maybe now we could learn to be scouts before
we gets back home."

"I've no doubt you can pass all the tenderfoot tests while we're
away," said Doctor Joe. "And since you're to take me about with dogs
and komatik this winter when I go to visit sick people, there'll be no
end of chances to show what good scouts you are."

"To take you about?" asked Andy excitedly.

Then Thomas must needs explain that they must do their share in
looking after the sick folk, and that David and Andy were to be Doctor
Joe's dog drivers when winter came.

"'Twill be fine to manage the dogs for you, sir!" exclaimed David,
turning to Doctor Joe.

"Wonderful fine!" echoed Andy.

"And will you be goin' outside the Bay?" asked David.

"Aye, outside the Bay and in it, wherever there's need to go," said
Doctor Joe.

"'Twill be tryin' and hard work sometimes," suggested Thomas,
"travellin' when the weather's nasty, but I'm not doubtin' the lads'll
be able t' manage un."

"We'll manage un!" David declared with pride in the confidence placed
in him and Andy.

To drive dogs on these sub-arctic trails in fair weather and foul
calls for courage and grit, and the lads felt justly proud of the
responsibility that had been laid upon them. There would be many a
shift to make on the ice, they knew. There would be blinding blizzards
and withering arctic winds to face, and no end of hard work. But these
lads of The Labrador loved to stand upon their feet like men and face
and conquer the elements like hardy men of courage. This is the way of
boys the world over--eager for the time when they may assume the
responsibility of manhood. Such a time comes earlier to the lads of
The Labrador than with us. In that stern land there is no idling and
there are no holidays, and every one, the lad as well as his father,
must always do his part, which is his best.

Fort Pelican, the nearest port at which the mail boat called, was
seventy miles eastward from The Jug. With the uncertainty of wind and
tide the boat journey to Fort Pelican usually consumed three days, and
with equal time required for return, the voyage could seldom be
accomplished in less than six days. Lem Horn and his family lived at
Horn's Bight, thirty miles from The Jug, and fifteen miles beyond, at
Caribou Arm, was Jerry Snook's cabin. Save an Eskimo settlement of
half a dozen huts near Fort Pelican and the families of Lem Horn and
Jerry Snook, the country lying between The Jug and Fort Pelican was
uninhabited. It was unlikely that evening would find the travellers in
the vicinity of either Horn's or Snook's cabins, and therefore it was
to be a camping trip, which was quite to the liking of the boys.

The boys washed the old fishing boat and packed the equipment and
provisions for the voyage. Margaret baked three big loaves of white
bread, and as a special treat a loaf of plum bread. The remaining
provisions consisted of tea, a bottle of molasses for sweetening,
flour, baking-powder, fat salt pork, lard, margarine, salt and pepper.
The equipment included a frying-pan, a basin for mixing dough, a tin
kettle for tea, a larger kettle to be used in cooking, one large
cooking spoon, four teaspoons and some tin plates. Each of the boys as
well as Doctor Joe was provided with a sheath knife carried on the
belt. The sheath knife serves the professional hunter as a cooking
knife, as well as for eating and general purposes.

For camping use there was a cotton wedge tent, a small sheet-iron tent
stove, three camp axes, some candles and matches, a file for
sharpening the axes and a sleeping-bag for each. Men in that land do
not travel without arms, and it was decided that David should take a
carbine and Andy and Doctor Joe each a double-barrel shotgun, for
there might be an opportunity to shoot a fat goose or duck.

Thomas's big boat had two light masts rigged with leg-o'-mutton sails.
Just forward of the foremast David and Andy placed some flat stones,
and covering them with two or three inches of gravel set the tent
stove upon the gravel. Here they could cook their meals at midday, and
the gravel would protect the bottom of the boat from heat. A
sufficient quantity of fire-wood was taken aboard, and the provisions
and other equipment stowed under a short deck forward where the things
would be protected from storm and all would be in readiness for an
early start in the morning.




CHAPTER III

"'TIS THE GHOST OF LONG JOHN"


The morning was clear and crisp. Breakfast was eaten by candle-light,
and before sunrise Doctor Joe and the boys, with the tide to help
them, worked the big boat down through The Jug and past the Point into
Eskimo Bay. In the shelter of The Jug, which lay in the lee of the
hills, the sails flapped idly and it was necessary to bring the long
oars into service. But beyond the sheltered harbour a light north-west
breeze caught and filled the sails, the oars were stowed, the rudder
shipped, and with David at the tiller Doctor Joe lighted his pipe and
settled himself for a quiet smoke while Andy and Jamie turned their
attention to their scout handbooks.

It was an inspiring morning. The sky was cloudless. The air was
charged with scent of spruce and balsam fir, wafted down by the
breeze from the forest, lying in dark and solemn silence and spreading
away from the near-by shore until it melted into the blue haze of
rolling hills far to the northward. The huge black back of a grampus
rose a hundred feet from the boat and with a noise like the loud
exhaust of steam sank again beneath the surface of the Bay. Now and
again a seal raised its head and looked curiously at the travellers
and then hastily dived. Gulls and terns soared and circled overhead,
occasionally dipping to the water to capture a choice morsel of food.
A flock of wild geese, honking in flight, turned into a bight and
alighted where a brook coursed down through a marsh to join the sea.

"There's some geese," remarked David, breaking the silence. "They're
comin' up south now. We'll have a hunt when we gets home. They always
feeds in that mesh when they're bidin' about the Bay."

Presently Andy exclaimed:

"I can tie un all! I can tie every knot in the book!"

"I can tie un too!" said Jamie.

"Yes! Yes! There are the scout tests!" broke in Doctor Joe. "Suppose
we all tie the knots and pass the tests."

Andy and Jamie tied them easily enough, and then Doctor Joe tied them
himself to keep pace with the boys, and Andy relieved David at the
tiller that he might try his hand at them; David not only tied all the
knots illustrated in the handbook, but for good measure added a
bowline on a bight, a double carrick bend, a marlin hitch and a
halliard hitch.

"That's wonderful easy to do," David declared as he laid the rope
down. "'Tis strange they calls that a test, 'tis so easy done."

"Easy for us," admitted Doctor Joe, "but for boys who have never had
much to do with boats or ropes it's a hard test, and an important one.
You chaps knew how to tie them, so in doing it you haven't learned
anything new. Let us make up our minds as scouts to learn something
new every day--something we never knew before, no matter how small or
unimportant it may seem. Think what a lot we'll know next year that we
do not know now; everything we learn, too, is sure to be of use to us
sometime in our lives.

"As we go along we'll find there is a great deal to learn in this
handbook, and all of it is worth knowing. We don't look far ahead.
Suppose we begin with the scout law. With your good memories you'll
learn it before we go ashore to-night. I want you to learn the twelve
points of the law in order as they appear in the book, so that you can
repeat them and tell me in your own words what each point means."

Doctor Joe turned to the scout law and explained each point in detail.
When he told them that "A Scout is kind" meant that they must not only
be kind to people, but that they must protect and not kill harmless
birds and animals, David protested:

"If we promises _that_, sir, 'twould stop us huntin' seals and deer
and pa'tridges and plenty o' things."

"Oh, no!" explained Doctor Joe. "It does not mean that. It means that
you must kill nothing _needlessly_. Here in Labrador we must kill
seals and deer and partridges and other game for food and for their
skins. That is the way we make our living. In the same way they have
to kill cows and sheep and goats and pigs for food in the country I
came from and to get skins for boots and gloves. In the same way we
are permitted to kill game when necessary. But we're not to kill
anything that's harmless unless we need it for some purpose. The
Indians and other people about here shoot at loons for sport. I've
seen them chase the loons in canoes and keep shooting at them every
time they came up after a dive, until the loons were too tired to dive
quickly enough to get out of the way of the shot, and then the poor
things were killed. The flesh isn't fit to eat and they're always
thrown away. That is cruel."

"I never thought of un that way. I've killed loons too," David
confessed, "but I'll never shoot at a loon again. 'Tis the same with
gulls and other things we never uses when we kills, and just shoot at
for fun."

"That's the idea," said Doctor Joe enthusiastically. "Now what do you
think about killing hen partridges in summer?"

"We can kill pa'tridges, can't we?" asked David. "We always eats un,
and you said we could kill un."

"But we've got to use our heads about it," Doctor Joe explained. "I'm
talking now about _hen_ partridges in _summer_. They always have
broods of little partridges then. If you kill the mother all the
little ones die, for they're too small to take care of themselves. Do
you think that's right?"

"I never thought of un before," said David. "'Tis wicked to kill un!
I'll never kill a hen pa'tridge in summer again! Not me!"

"We'll have to be tellin' everybody in the Bay about that!" declared
Andy. "Nobody has ever thought about the poor little uns starvin' and
dyin'!"

"That'll be doing good scout work," Doctor Joe commended. "That's one
way you'll be useful as scouts here in Labrador. Not only will you be
showing kindness to the mother and little partridges, but if the
mother is permitted to live and raise her brood, all the little birds
will be full grown by winter, and it will make that many more
partridges that can be used for food when food is needed."

When presently Jamie announced that it was "'most noon" and he was
"fair starvin'," and the others suddenly discovered that they were
hungry too, a fire was lighted in the stove and a cosy lunch of fried
pork and bread, and hot tea sweetened with molasses, was eaten with an
appetite and relish such as only those can enjoy who live in the open.
Then, with growing interest the lads returned to their scout books,
and camping time came almost before they were aware.

The sun was drooping low in the west when David, indicating a low,
wooded point, said:

"That's Flat P'int. There's good water there and 'tis a fine camping
place."

"Then we'll camp there," Doctor Joe agreed.

"Look! Look!" exclaimed Andy, as the boat approached the shore.
"There's a porcupine!"

Following the direction in which Andy pointed, a fat porcupine was
discovered high up in a spruce tree feeding upon the tender branches
and bark.

"Shall we have un for supper?" Andy asked excitedly.

"Aye," said David, "let's have un for supper. Fresh meat'll go fine."

A shot from the rifle, when they had landed, brought the unfortunate
porcupine tumbling to the ground, and Andy proceeded at once to skin
and dress his game for supper.

"I'll be cook and Andy cookee," Doctor Joe announced. "We'll get wood
for the fire, David, and you and Jamie pitch the tent and get it
ready."

Flat Point was well wooded, and the floor of the forest thickly
carpeted with grey caribou moss. David selected a level spot between
two trees on a little rise near the shore. The ridge rope was quickly
stretched between the trees and the tent securely pegged down. Then
David and Jamie broke a quantity of low-hanging spruce boughs, which
they snapped from the trees with a dexterous upward bend of the wrist.
When a liberal pile of these had been accumulated at the entrance of
the tent, David proceeded to lay the bed.

The rear of the tent was to be the head. Here he laid a row of the
boughs, three deep, with the convex side uppermost, then he began
"shingling" the boughs in rows toward the foot. This was done by
placing the butt end of the bough firmly against the ground with half
the bough, the convex side uppermost, overlapping the bough above it,
as shingles are lapped on a roof. Thus continuing until the floor of
the tent was covered he had a soft, fragrant springy bed, quite as
soft and comfortable as a mattress, and upon this he and Jamie spread
the sleeping-bags.

In the meantime Doctor Joe and Andy had collected an ample supply of
dry wood for the evening, and when, presently, David and Jamie joined
them, a cheerful fire was blazing and already an appetizing odour was
rising from the stew kettle.

When the stew and some tender dumplings were done Doctor Joe lifted
the kettle from the fire, and while he filled each plate with a
liberal portion, and Andy poured tea, David put fresh wood upon the
fire, for the evening had grown cold and frosty with the setting sun.
The blazing fire was cheerful indeed as they settled themselves upon
the seat of boughs and proceeded to enjoy their supper.

"Um-m-m!" exclaimed Andy. "You knows how to cook wonderful fine,
Doctor!"

"'Tis _wonderful_ fine stew!" seconded David.

"Not half bad," admitted Doctor Joe, "but Andy had as much to do with
it as I, and the porcupine had a good deal to do with it. It was young
and fat, and it's tender."

There is no pleasanter hour for the camper or voyageur than the
evening hour by a blazing camp fire. There is no sweeter odour than
that of the damp forest mingled with the smell of burning wood. Beyond
the narrow circle of light a black wall rises, and behind the wall
lies the wilderness with its unfathomed mysteries. Out in the darkness
wild creatures move, silent, stealthy and unseen, behind a veil that
human eyes cannot penetrate. But we know they are there going about
the strange business of their life, and our imagination is awakened
and our sensibilities quickened.

The camp fire is a shrine of comradeship and friendship. Here it was
that the primordial ancestors of every living man and woman and child
gathered at night with their families, in those far-off dark ages
before history was written. The fire was their home. Here they found
rest and comfort and protection from the savage wild beasts that
roamed the forests. It was a place of veneration. The primitive
instinct, perchance inherited from those far-off ancestors of ours,
slumbering in our souls, is sometimes awakened, and then we are called
to the woods and the wild places that God made beautiful for us, and
at night we gather around our camp fire as our ancient ancestors
gathered around theirs, and we love it just as they loved it.

And so it was with the little camp fire on Flat Point and with Doctor
Joe and the boys. With darkness the uncanny light of the Aurora
Borealis flashed up in the north, its long, weird fingers of changing
colours moving restlessly across the heavens. The forest and the
wide, dark waters of Eskimo Bay sank behind a black wall.

There was absolute silence, save for the ripple of waves upon the
shore, each busy with his own thoughts, until presently Jamie asked:

"Did you ever see a ghost, Doctor?"

"A ghost? No, lad, and I fancy no one else ever saw one except in
imagination. What made you think of ghosts?"

"'Tis so--still--and dark out there," said Jamie, pointing toward the
darkness beyond the fire-glow. "And--I were thinkin' I heard
something."

"But there _is_ ghosts, sir, plenty of un," broke in Andy. "Pop's seen
ghosts and so has Zeke Hodge and Uncle Billy and plenty of folks. They
says the ghost of Long John, the old Injun that used to be at the Post
and was drowned, goes paddlin' and paddlin' about in a canoe o'
nights."

"Yes," said David, "I'm thinkin' I saw Long John's ghost myself one
evenin'. I weren't certain of un, but it must have been he."

"Nonsense!" Doctor Joe had no patience with the belief popular among
Labradormen that ghosts of men who have been drowned or killed return
to haunt the scene of their death. "There's no such thing as a ghost."

"What's that now?" Jamie held up his hand for silence, and spoke in a
subdued voice.

Out of the darkness came the rhythmic dipping of a paddle. They all
heard it now. Doctor Joe arose, and closely followed by the boys,
stepped down beyond the fire glow. In dim outline they could see the
silhouette of a canoe containing the lone figure of a man paddling
with the short, quick stroke of the Indian.

"'Tis the ghost of Long John!" breathed Jamie. "'Tis sure he!"




CHAPTER IV

SHOT FROM BEHIND


The canoe was coming directly toward them. In a moment it touched the
shore, and as its occupant stepped lightly out the boys with one
accord exclaimed:

"Injun Jake! 'Tis Injun Jake!"

And so it proved. The greeting he received was hearty enough to leave
no doubt in his mind that he was a welcome visitor. Perhaps it was the
heartier because of the relief the boys experienced in the discovery
that the lone canoeman was not, after all, the wraith of Long John,
but was their friend Indian Jake in flesh and blood.

When his packs had been removed, Indian Jake lifted his canoe from the
water, turned it upon its side and followed the boys to the fire,
where Doctor Joe awaited him.

"Just in time!" welcomed Doctor Joe, as he shook Indian Jake's hand.
"We've finished eating, but there's plenty of stew in the kettle.
Andy, pour Jake some tea."

Indian Jake, grunting his thanks, silently picked up David's empty
plate and heaped it with stew and dumpling from the kettle without the
ceremony of waiting to be served.

He was a tall, lithe, muscular half-breed, with small, restless,
hawk-like eyes and a beaked nose that was not unlike the beak of a
hawk. He had the copper-hued skin and straight black hair of the
Indian, but otherwise his features might have been those of a white
man. Indian Jake had been the trapping companion of David and Andy the
previous winter, and, as previously stated, was this year to be Thomas
Angus's trapping partner on the fur trails.

The boys were vastly fond of Indian Jake, and Thomas and Doctor Joe
shared their confidence, but the Bay folk generally looked upon him
with distrust and suspicion. Several years before, he had come to the
Bay a penniless stranger. He soon earned the reputation of being one
of the best trappers in the region. Then, suddenly, he disappeared
owing the Hudson's Bay Company a considerable sum for equipment and
provisions sold him on credit. It was well known that in the winter
preceding his disappearance Indian Jake had had a most successful
hunting season and was in possession of ample means to pay his debts.
His failure to apply his means to this purpose was looked upon as
highly dishonest--akin, indeed, to theft.

Two years later he reappeared, again penniless. The Company refused
him further credit, and he had no means of purchasing the supplies
necessary for his support during the trapping season in the interior.
It was at this time that Thomas Angus broke his leg, and it became
necessary for David and Andy to take his place on the trails. They
were too young to endure the long months of isolation without an older
and more experienced companion. There was none but Indian Jake to go
with them, and he was engaged to hunt on shares a trail adjacent to
theirs.

With his share of the furs captured by the end of the trapping season,
Indian Jake discharged his old debt with the Company. This was not
sufficient, however, to re-establish confidence in him. There was a
lurking suspicion among them, fostered by Uncle Ben Rudder of Tuggle
Bight, the wiseacre and oracle of the Bay, that Indian Jake's payment
of the debt was not prompted by honesty but by some ulterior motive.

Indian Jake emptied his plate. He refilled it with the last of the
stew and again emptied it, in the interim swallowing several cups of
hot tea.

"Good stew," he remarked in appreciation and praise when his meal was
finished. "When were you gettin' back?"

"I reached The Jug day before yesterday," said Doctor Joe.

"Huh!" Indian Jake grunted approval, as he puffed industriously at his
pipe. "Where you goin' now? To see Lem Horn?"

"No," Doctor Joe answered, "we're going to Fort Pelican to get some
things I brought in on the mail boat."

"I been goose huntin'," Indian Jake explained. "Not much goose yet.
Too early. Got four. Goin' to The Jug now to give Thomas a hand. Want
to start for Seal Lake soon. Don't want to be late."

"Pop's thinkin' to start in a fortnight," said David.

"Good!" acknowledged Indian Jake. "Maybe we start sooner. Start when
we're ready. I want to go quick. Have plenty time get there before
freeze-up."

Indian Jake had apparently finished talking. Doctor Joe and the boys
made several attempts to continue the conversation, but only receiving
responsive grunts, turned to a discussion of the flag and other scout
problems, while Indian Jake was absorbed in his own thoughts.
Presently he rose and proceeded to unroll his bed.

"Plenty of room in the tent," Doctor Joe invited. "Better come in with
us, Jake."

"Goin' early. Sleep here," he declined, as he spread a caribou skin
upon the ground to protect himself from the damp earth. Then he
produced a Hudson's Bay Company blanket, once white but now of
uncertain shade, and rolling himself in the blanket, with his feet
toward the fire, was soon snoring peacefully.

"We won't trouble to douse the fire," Doctor Joe suggested presently.
"He wants to sleep by it, and he'll look after it. Let's turn in."

And with the front of the tent open that they might enjoy the air and
profit by the firelight, they were soon snug in their sleeping-bags
and as sound asleep as Indian Jake.

"High-o!"

The three boys sat up. It was broad daylight, and Doctor Joe, on his
hands and knees, was looking out of the tent.

"Our visitor has gone, and there's little wonder, for we've been
sleeping like bears and it's broad daylight. Hurry, lads, or the
sun'll be well up before we get away."

The boys sprang up and were soon dressed. The fire had burned low,
indicating that Indian Jake had been gone for a considerable time. A
fat goose was hanging from the limb of a tree. Fastened to it was a
piece of birch bark, and scribbled upon the birch bark with a piece of
charcoal from the fire, these words:

"cerprize fur the lads bekos they likes Goos."

Another surprise awaited them. When they lifted the lid of the large
cooking kettle they found it nearly full of boiled goose.

"That's the way o' Indian Jake!" Andy exclaimed. "He's always plannin'
fine surprises for folks."

"It's surely a fine surprise," said Doctor Joe. "Breakfast all ready
but the tea, and a goose for to-night."

Every one hurried, but the sun was well up when they put out the fire
and hoisted sail. There was little wind, however, and the light
breeze soon dropped to a dead calm. Doctor Joe unshipped the rudder
and began sculling, while the boys laboured at the long oars. At
length the tide began running in, and progress was so slow that it was
decided to go ashore and await a turn of the tide or a breeze.

"Lem Horn lives just back o' that island," said David, indicating a
small wooded island. "We might stop and bide there till a breeze
comes, and see un."

In accordance with the suggestion Doctor Joe turned the boat inside
the island, and there, on the mainland in the edge of a little
clearing and not a hundred yards distant, stood Lem Horn's cabin. It
was a secluded and peculiarly lonely spot, hidden by the island from
the few boats that plied the Bay. Here lived Lem Horn and his wife and
two sons, Eli, a young man of twenty-one years, and Mark, nineteen
years of age.

"There's no smoke," observed Jamie.

"Maybe they're all down to Fort Pelican getting their winter outfit,"
suggested David.

"There seems to be no one about but the dogs," said Doctor Joe, as he
stepped ashore with the painter and made it fast, while Lem's big
sledge dogs, lolling in the sun, watched them curiously.

Visitors do not knock in Labrador. The cabins are always open to
travellers whether or not the host is at home. Andy was in advance,
and opening the door he stopped on the threshold with an exclamation
of horror.

Stretched upon the floor lay Lem Horn, his face and hair smeared with
blood, and on the floor near him was a small pool of blood. A chair
was overturned, and Lem's legs were tangled in a fish-net.

Doctor Joe leaned over the prostrate figure.

"Shot," said he, "and from behind!"

"Does you mean somebody shot he?" asked David, quite horrified.

"Yes, and it must have happened yesterday," said Doctor Joe.

[Illustration: STRETCHED UPON THE FLOOR LAY LEM HORN]




CHAPTER V

LEM HORN'S SILVER FOX


"He's alive, and this doesn't look like a bad wound," said Doctor Joe
after a brief examination. "David, put a fire in the stove and heat
some water! Andy, find some clean cloths! Jamie, bring up my medicine
kit from the boat!"

The boys hurried to carry out the directions, while Doctor Joe made a
more careful examination and discovered a second wound in Lem's back,
just below the right shoulder.

"Both shots from the back," he mused. "This wound explains his
condition. The one in the head only scraped the skull, and couldn't
have more than stunned him for a short time. The other has caused a
good deal of bleeding and may be serious."

With David's help Doctor Joe carried Lem to his bunk and removed his
outer clothing.

The water in the kettle on the stove was now warm enough for Doctor
Joe's purpose. He poured some of it into a dish, and after dissolving
in it some antiseptic tablets, cleansed and temporarily dressed the
wounds.

Restoratives were now applied. Lem responded promptly. His breathing
became perceptible, and at length he opened his eyes and stared at
Doctor Joe. There was no recognition in the stare and in a moment the
eyes closed. Presently they again opened, and this time Lem's lips
moved.

"Where's Jane?" he asked feebly.

"Your wife seems to be away and the boys, too," said Doctor Joe. "We
found you alone."

"Gone to Fort Pelican," Lem murmured after a moment's thought. He
stared at Doctor Joe for several minutes, now with the look of one
trying to recall something, and at length asked:

"What's--been--happenin' to me?"

"You've been shot," said Doctor Joe. "We found you on the floor. Some
one has shot you."

"The silver! The silver fox skin!" Lem displayed excitement. "Be it on
the table? I had un there!"

"There was no fur on the table when we came," said Doctor Joe.

Lem made a feeble attempt to rise, but Doctor Joe pressed him gently
back upon the pillow, saying as he did so:

"You must lie quiet, Lem. Don't try to move. You're not strong
enough."

Lem, like a weary child, closed his eyes in compliance. Several
minutes elapsed before he opened them again, and then he looked
steadfastly at Doctor Joe.

"Do you know who I am?" Doctor Joe asked.

"Yes," answered Lem in a feeble voice; "you're Doctor Joe. I knows
you. I'm--glad you--came--Doctor Joe."

"Lem, you've been shot, but we'll pull you through. It isn't so bad,
but you've lost some blood, and that's left you weak for a little
while. Don't talk now. Rest, and you'll soon be on your feet again."

While Lem lay with closed eyes, Doctor Joe turned to consideration of
the crime. If it were true that a silver fox skin had been taken,
robbery was undoubtedly the motive for the shooting. But who could
have known of the existence of the skin? And who could have come to
this out-of-the-way place unobserved by the old trapper and shot him
without warning?

Instinctively Indian Jake rose before his eyes. The half-breed's
unsavoury reputation forced itself forward. And there was the
circumstance of Indian Jake's visit to Flat Point camp the previous
evening, his hurried departure in the morning, and his evident desire
to hurry into the interior wilderness where he would be swallowed up
for several months, and from which there would be innumerable
opportunities to escape. Suddenly Doctor Joe was startled by Lem's
voice, quite strong and natural now:

"I'm thinkin' 'twere that thief Injun Jake that shoots me."

"What makes you think so?" asked Doctor Joe.

"He were huntin' geese just below here, and he comes in and sits for a
bit. I had a silver fox skin I were holdin' for a better price than
they offers at Fort Pelican. 'Twere worth five hundred dollars
whatever, and they only offers three hundred. I were busy mendin' my
fishin' gear before I stows un away when Injun Jake comes. We talks
about fur and I brings the silver out t' show he. Then I lays un on
the table and keeps on mendin' the gear after he goes, thinkin' to put
the fur up after I gets through mendin'."

"What time did Indian Jake come?" asked Doctor Joe.

"A bit after noon. Handy to one o'clock 'twere, for I were just
boilin' the kettle. He eats a snack with me."

"How long did he stay? What time did he go?"

"I'm not knowin' just the time. I were a bit late boilin' the kettle.
I boiled un around one o'clock. We sets down to the table about ten
after and 'twere handy to half-past when we clears the table. Then
Injun Jake has a smoke, and I shows he the silver, and I'm thinkin'
'twere a bit after two when he goes. He said he were goin' to stop on
Flat P'int last night and get to Tom Angus's to-night whatever."

"A little after two o'clock when he left?"

"Maybe 'twere half-past. He had a down wind to paddle agin', and he
were sayin' 'twould be slow travellin', and 'twould take three or four
hours whatever to make Flat P'int."

"And then what happened?"

"I were settin' mendin' the gear thinkin' to finish un and stow un
away, and I keeps at un till just sundown. I were just gettin' up to
put the kettle on for supper. That's all I remembers, exceptin' I
wakes up two or three times and tries to move, but when I tries
there's a wonderful hurt in my shoulder, and my head feels like she's
bustin', and everything goes black in front of my eyes. If the fur's
gone, Injun Jake took un."

"It's strange," said Doctor Joe, "very strange. There's a bullet in
your shoulder. After you rest a while we'll probe for it and see if we
can get it out. Don't talk any more. Just lie quietly and sleep if you
can."

The boys were out-of-doors. Doctor Joe was glad they had not heard
Lem's accusation against Indian Jake. The half-breed had been good to
them, and they held vast faith in his integrity. There was some hope
that Lem's suspicions were not well founded; nevertheless Doctor Joe
was forced to admit to himself that circumstances pointed to Indian
Jake as the culprit. It was highly improbable that any one else should
have been in the vicinity without Lem's knowledge. It was quite
possible that Lem's statement of the hour when he was shot was
incorrect, for his mind could hardly yet be clear enough to be
certain, without doubt, of details.

Lem quickly dropped into a refreshing sleep, and Doctor Joe left him
for a little while to join the boys out-of-doors. He found them behind
the house picking the goose Indian Jake had left in the tree at the
Flat Point camp.

"How's Lem, sir? Is he hurt bad?" David asked as Doctor Joe seated
himself upon a stump.

"He's sleeping now. After he rests a little we'll see how badly he's
hurt," said Doctor Joe. "I fancy you chaps are thinking about dinner.
Hungry already, I'll be bound!"

"Aye," grinned David, "wonderful hungry. 'Tis most noon, sir."

Doctor Joe consulted his watch.

"I declare it is. It must have been nearly eleven o'clock when we
reached here. I didn't realize it was so late."

"'Twere ten minutes to eleven, sir," said Andy. "I were lookin' to see
how long it takes us to come from Flat P'int."

"What time did we leave Flat Point?" asked Doctor Joe.

"'Twere twenty minutes before seven, sir." Andy drew his new watch
proudly from his pocket to refer to it again, as he did upon every
possible occasion.

"No," corrected David, "'twere only twenty-five minutes before eleven
when we leaves Flat P'int, and fifteen minutes before eleven when we
gets here. I looks to see."

"Perhaps your watches aren't set alike," suggested Doctor Joe.
"Suppose we compare them."

The comparison disclosed a difference, as Doctor Joe predicted, of
five minutes. Then each must needs set his watch with Doctor Joe's,
which was a little slower than Andy's and a little faster than
David's.

Doctor Joe made some mental calculations. Both David and Andy had
observed their watches, and there could be no doubt of the length of
time it had required them to come from Flat Point to Lem's cabin. They
had consumed four hours, but their progress had been exceedingly slow.
Indian Jake had doubtless travelled much faster in his light canoe,
but, at best, with the wind against him, he could hardly have paddled
from Lem's cabin to Flat Point in less than two hours. He had arrived
one hour after sunset. If Lem were correct as to the time when the
shooting took place, Indian Jake could not be guilty.

But still there was, with but one hour or possibly a little more in
excess of the time between sunset and Indian Jake's arrival at camp,
an uncertain alibi for Indian Jake. Lem may have been shot much
earlier in the afternoon than he supposed. When Lem grew stronger it
would be necessary to question him closely that the hour might be
fixed with certainty. Whoever had shot and robbed Lem must have known
of the existence of the silver fox skin, and been familiar with the
surroundings. The shots had doubtless been fired through a broken pane
in a window directly behind the chair in which Lem was sitting at the
time.

"Why not cook dinner out here over an open fire?" Doctor Joe presently
suggested. "You chaps are pretty noisy, and if you come into the house
to cook it on the stove, I'm afraid you'll wake Lem up, and I want him
to sleep."

"We'll cook un out here, sir," David agreed.

"'Tis more fun to cook here," Jamie suggested.

"Very well. When it's ready you may bring it in and we'll eat on the
table. Lem will probably be awake by that time and he'll want
something too. Stew the goose so that there'll be broth, and we'll
give some of it to Lem to drink. You'll have to go to Fort Pelican
without me. I'll have to stay here and take care of Lem. If the wind
comes up, and I think it will, you may get a start after dinner," and
Doctor Joe returned to the cabin to watch over his patient.

The goose was plucked. David split a stick of wood, and with his
jack-knife whittled shavings for the fire. The knife had a keen edge,
for David was a born woodsman and every woodsman keeps his tools
always in good condition, and the shavings he cut were long and thin.
He did not cut each shaving separately, but stopped his knife just
short of the end of the stick, and when several shavings were cut,
with a twist of the blade he broke them from the main stick in a
bunch. Thus they were held together by the butt to which they were
attached. He whittled four or five of these bunches of shavings, and
then cut some fine splints with his axe.

David was now ready to light his fire. He placed two sticks of wood
upon the ground, end to end, in the form of a right angle, with the
opening between the sticks in the direction from which the wind came.
Taking the butt of one of the bunches of shavings in his left hand, he
scratched a match with his right hand and lighted the thin end of the
shavings. When they were blazing freely he carefully placed the thick
end upon the two sticks where they came together, on the inside of the
angle, with the burning end resting upon the ground. Thus the thick
end of the shavings was elevated. Fire always climbs upward, and in an
instant the whole bunch of shavings was ablaze. Upon this he placed
the other shavings, the thin ends on the fire, the butts resting upon
the two sticks at the angle. With the splints which he had previously
prepared arranged upon this they quickly ignited, and upon them larger
sticks were laid, and in less than five minutes an excellent cooking
fire was ready for the pot.

Before disjointing the goose, David held it over the blaze until it
was thoroughly singed and the surface of the skin clear. Then he
proceeded to draw and cut the goose into pieces of suitable size for
stewing, placed them in the kettle, and covered them with water from
Lem's spring.

In the meantime Andy cut a stiff green pole about five feet in length.
The thick end he sharpened, and near the other end cut a small notch.
Using the thick, sharpened end like a crowbar, he drove it firmly into
the ground with the small end directly above the fire. Placing a stone
between the ground and sloping pole, that the pole might not sag too
low with the weight of the kettle, he slipped the handle of the kettle
into the notch at the small end of the pole, where it hung suspended
over the blaze.

Preparing a similar pole, and placing it in like manner, Andy filled
the tea-kettle and put it over the fire to heat for tea.

"I'm thinkin'," suggested David as he dropped four or five thick
slices of pork into the kettle of goose, "'twould be fine to have hot
bread with the goose."

"Oh, make un! Make un!" exclaimed Jamie.

"Aye," seconded Andy, "hot bread would go fine with the goose."

Andy fetched the flour up from the boat and David dipped about a
quart of it into the mixing pan. To this he added four heaping
teaspoonfuls of baking-powder and two level teaspoonfuls of salt.
After stirring the baking-powder and salt well into the flour, he
added to it a heaping cooking-spoonful of lard--a quantity equal to
two heaping tablespoonfuls. This he rubbed into the flour with the
back of the large cooking spoon until it was thoroughly mixed. He now
added water while he mixed it with the flour, a little at a time,
until the dough was of the consistency of stiff biscuit dough.

The bread was now ready to bake. There was no oven, and the frying-pan
must needs serve instead. The interior of the frying-pan he sprinkled
liberally with flour that the dough might not stick to it. Then
cutting a piece of dough from the mass he pulled it into a cake just
large enough to fit into the frying-pan and about half an inch in
thickness, and laid the cake carefully in the pan.

With a stick he raked from the fire some hot coals. With the coals
directly behind the pan, and with the bread in the pan facing the
fire, and exposed to the direct heat, he placed it at an angle of
forty-five degrees, supporting it in that position with a sharpened
stick, one end forced into the earth and the tip of the handle resting
upon the other end. The bread thus derived heat at the bottom from the
coals and at the top from the main fire.

"She's risin' fine!" Jamie presently announced.

"She'll rise fast enough," David declared confidently. "There's no
fear of that."

There was no fear indeed. In ten minutes the loaf had increased to
three times its original thickness and the side nearer the ground took
on a delicate brown, for the greater heat of a fire is always
reflected toward the ground. David removed the pan from its support,
and without lifting the loaf from the pan, moved it round until the
brown side was opposite the handle. Then he returned the pan to its
former position. Now the browned half was on the upper or handle side,
while the unbrowned half was on the side near the ground, and in a few
minutes the whole loaf was deliciously browned.

While the bread was baking David drove a stick into the ground at one
side and a little farther from the fire than the pan. When the loaf
had browned on top to his satisfaction he removed it from the pan and
leaned it against the stick with the bottom exposed to the fire, and
proceeded to bake a second loaf.

"Let me have the dough that's left," Jamie begged.

"Aye, take un if you likes," David consented. "There'll be too little
for another loaf, whatever."

Jamie secured a dry stick three or four feet long and about two inches
in diameter. This he scraped clean of bark, and pulling the dough into
a rope as thick as his finger wound it in a spiral upon the centre of
the stick. Then he flattened the dough until it was not above a
quarter of an inch in thickness.

On the opposite side of the fire from David, that he might not
interfere with David's cooking, he arranged two stones near enough
together for an end of the stick to rest on each. Here he placed it
with the dough in the centre exposed to the heat. As the dough on the
side of the stick near the fire browned he turned the stick a little
to expose a new surface, until his twist was brown on all sides.

"Have some of un," Jamie invited. "We'll eat un to stave off the
hunger before dinner. I'm fair starved."

David and Andy were not slow to accept, and Jamie's crisp hot twist
was quickly devoured.

The kettle of stewing goose was sending forth a most delicious
appetizing odour. David lifted the lid to season it, and stir it with
the cooking spoon. Jamie and Andy sniffed.

"U-m-m!" from Jamie.

"Oh, she smells fine!" Andy breathed.

"Seems like I can't wait for un!" Jamie declared.

"She's done!" David at length announced.

"Make the tea, Andy."

Using a stick as a lifter David removed the kettle of goose from the
fire, while Andy put tea in the other kettle, which was boiling,
removing it also from the fire.

"You bring the bread along, Jamie, and you the tea, Andy," David
directed, turning into the cabin with the kettle of goose.

Lem had just awakened from a most refreshing sleep, and when he
smelled the goose he declared:

"I'm hungrier'n a whale."

Doctor Joe laid claim also to no small appetite, an appetite, indeed,
quite superior to that described by Lem.

"A whale!" he sniffed. "Why, I'm as hungry as seven whales! Seven,
now! Big whales, too! No small whales about _my_ appetite!"

The three boys laughed heartily, and David warned:

"We'll all have to be lookin' out or there won't be a bite o' goose
left for anybody if Doctor Joe gets at un first!"

Doctor Joe arranged a plate for Lem, upon which he placed a choice
piece of breast and a section of one of David's loaves, which proved,
when broken, to be light and short and delicious. Then he poured Lem a
cup of rich broth from the kettle, and while Lem ate waited upon him
before himself joining the boys at the table.

"How are you feeling, Lem?" asked Doctor Joe when everyone had
finished and the boys were washing dishes.

"My head's a bit soggy and I'm a bit weak, and there's a wonderful
pain in my right shoulder when I moves un," said Lem. "If 'tweren't
for my head and the weakness and the pain I'd feel as well as ever I
did, and I'd be achin' to get after that thief Indian Jake. As 'tis
I'll bide my time till I feels nimbler."

"Do you think you could let me fuss around that shoulder a little
while?" Doctor Joe asked. "Does it hurt too badly for you to bear it?"

"Oh, I can stand un," said Lem. "Fuss around un all you wants to,
Doctor Joe. You knows how to mend un and patch un up, and I wants un
mended."

Doctor Joe called Andy to his assistance with another basin of warm
water, in which, as previously, he dissolved antiseptic tablets,
explaining to the boys the reason, and adding:

"If a wound is kept clean Nature will heal it. Nothing you can apply
to a wound will assist in the healing. All that is necessary is to
keep it clean and keep it properly bandaged to protect it from
infection."

"Wouldn't a bit of wet t'baccer draw the soreness out?" Lem suggested.

"No! No! No!" protested Doctor Joe, properly horrified. "Never put
tobacco or anything else on a wound. If you do you will run the risk
of infection which might result in blood poisoning, which might kill
you."

"I puts t'baccer on cuts sometimes and she always helps un," insisted
Lem.

"It's simply through the mercy of God, then, and your good clean
blood, that it hasn't killed you," declared Doctor Joe.

From his kit Doctor Joe brought forth bandages and gauze and some
strange-looking instruments, and turned his attention to the shoulder.
Lem gritted his teeth and, though Doctor Joe knew he was suffering,
never uttered a whimper or complaint.

An examination disclosed the fact that the bullet had coursed to the
right, and Doctor Joe located it just under the skin directly forward
of the arm pit. Though it was necessarily a painful wound, he was
relieved to find that no vital organ had been injured, and he was able
to assure Lem that he would soon be around again and be as well as
ever.

When the bullet was extracted Doctor Joe examined it critically,
washed it and placed it carefully in his pocket. It proved to be a
thirty-eight calibre, black powder rifle bullet. Doctor Joe had no
doubt of that. He had made a study of firearms and had the eye of an
expert.

"It's half-past two, boys. A westerly breeze is springing up, and I
think you'd better go on to Fort Pelican," Doctor Joe suggested. "I'll
give you a note to the factor instructing him to deliver all the
things to you. You'll be able to make a good run before camping time.
Stop in here on your way back."

The boys made ready and said good-bye, spread the sails, and were soon
running before a good breeze. Doctor Joe watched them disappear round
the island, and returning to Lem's bedside asked:

"Lem, do you know what kind of a rifle Indian Jake carried?"

"I'm not knowin' rightly," said Lem. "'Twere either a forty-four or a
thirty-eight. 'Twere he did the shootin'. Nobody else has been comin'
about here the whole summer. I'm not doubtin' he's got my silver fox,
and I'm goin' to get un back _whatever_. He'd never stop at shootin'
to rob, but he'll have to be quicker'n I be at shootin', to keep the
fur!"

"When are you expecting Mrs. Horn and the boys back?" asked Doctor
Joe.

"This evenin' or to-morrow whatever," said Lem. "They've been away
these five days gettin' the winter outfit at Fort Pelican."

If Indian Jake were guilty, it was highly probable that he would take
prompt steps to flee the country. He could not dispose of the silver
fox skin in the Bay, for all the local traders had already seen and
appraised it, and they would undoubtedly recognize it if it were
offered them. Indian Jake would probably plunge into the interior,
spend the winter hunting, and in the spring make his way to the St.
Lawrence, where he would be safe from detection.

Doctor Joe made these calculations while he sat by the bedside, and
his patient dozed. He was sorry now that he had not sent the boys back
to The Jug with a letter to Thomas explaining what had occurred. All
the evidence pointed to Indian Jake's guilt, and there could be little
doubt of it if it should prove that the half-breed carried a
thirty-eight fifty-five rifle. Thomas would know, and he would take
prompt action to prevent Indian Jake's escape with the silver fox
skin. Should it prove, however, that Indian Jake's rifle was of
different calibre, he should be freed from suspicion.

It was dusk that evening when the boat bearing Eli and Mark and Mrs.
Horn rounded the island. Doctor Joe met them. They had seen the boys
and had received from them a detailed account of what had happened,
and Mrs. Horn was greatly excited. Her first thought was for Lem, and
she was vastly relieved when she saw him, as he declared he did not
feel "so bad," and Doctor Joe assured her he would soon be around
again and as well as ever.

Then there fell upon the family a full realization of their loss. The
silver fox skin that had been stolen was their whole fortune. The
proceeds of its sale was to have been their bulwark against need. It
was to have given them a degree of independence, and above all else
the little hoard that its sale would have brought them was to have
lightened Lem's burden of labour during his declining years.

Eli Horn was a big, broad-shouldered, swarthy young man of few words.
For an hour after he heard his father's detailed story of Indian
Jake's visit to the cabin, he sat in sullen silence by the stove.
Suddenly he arose, lifted his rifle from the pegs upon which it rested
against the wall, dropped some ammunition into his cartridge bag, and
swinging it over his shoulder strode toward the door.

"Where you goin', Eli?" asked Lem from his bunk.

"To hunt Indian Jake," said Eli as he closed the door behind him and
passed out into the night.




CHAPTER VI

THE TRACKS IN THE SAND


A smart south-west breeze had sprung up. White caps were dotting the
Bay, and with all sails set the boat bowled along at a good speed.

David held the tiller, while Andy and Jamie busied themselves with
their handbooks. They were an hour out of Horn's Bight when David
sighted the Horn boat beating up against the wind. Drawing within
hailing distance he told them of the accident.

Mrs. Horn, greatly excited, asked many questions. David assured her
that her husband's injuries were not serious, nevertheless she was
quite certain Lem lay at death's door.

"'Tis the first time I leaves home in most a year," she lamented. "I
were feelin' inside me 'twere wrong to go and leave Lem alone. And
now he's gone and been shot and liker'n not most killed."

"'Tis too bad to make Mrs. Horn worry so. I'm wonderfully sorry,"
David sympathized, as the boats passed beyond speaking distance.
"She'll worry now till they gets home, and the way Lem ate goose I'm
thinkin' he ain't hurt bad enough to worry much about he."

"They'll get there to-night whatever," said Andy. "'Tis the way of
Mrs. Horn to worry, even when we tells she Lem's doin' fine."

"I'm wonderin' and wonderin' who 'twere shot Lem," said David.
"Whoever 'twere had un in his heart to do murder."

"Whoever 'twere looked in through the window and saw Lem with the fine
silver fox on the table and sets out to get the fox," reasoned Andy.
"The shootin' were done through the window where there's a pane of
glass broke out."

"I sees where there's a pane of glass out," said David. "'Twas not
fresh broke though."

"No, 'twere an old break," Andy agreed. "I goes to look at un, and I
sees fresh tracks under the window where the man stands when he
shoots."

"Tracks!" exclaimed David. "I never thought to look for tracks now! I
weren't thinkin' of that! You thinks of more things than I ever does,
Andy."

"I weren't thinkin' of tracks either," said Andy, disclaiming credit
for their discovery. "Whilst you bakes the bread I just goes to look
where the window is broke, and when I'm there I sees the
strange-lookin' tracks."

"Strange, now! How was they strange?" asked Jamie excitedly, scenting
a deepening mystery.

"They was made with boots with _nails_ in the bottom of un," explained
Andy. "They was nails all over the bottom of them boots, and they was
big boots, them was. They made big tracks--wonderful big tracks."

"'Tis strange, now! Did you trace un, Andy? Did you see what way the
tracks goes?" asked David.

"'Twere only under the window where the ground were soft and bare of
moss that the tracks showed the nails. I tracks un down though to
where they comes in a boat and the boat goes again," Andy explained.
"The tracks were a day old, and down by the water the tide's been in
and washed un away. Whoever 'twere makes un were beyond findin'
whatever. They were goin' away, I'm thinkin', right after they shoots
Lem and takes his silver."

"Did you tell Doctor Joe about the tracks?" asked David.

"No, I weren't thinkin' to tell he when we goes in to eat, and he
weren't wantin' us in before that fearin' we'd wake Lem. The tracks
weren't of much account whatever. The folk that shot Lem were leavin'
in a boat and we couldn't track the boat to find out who 'twere."

A drizzling rain began to fall before they made camp that night. It
was too wet and dreary under the dripping trees for an open camp fire.
The stove was therefore brought into service and set up in the tent,
and there they cooked and ate their supper by candle-light.

On a cold and stormy night there is no article in the camp equipment
more useful than a little sheet-iron stove. With its magic touch it
transforms a wet and dismal tent into the snuggest and cosiest and
most comfortable retreat in the whole world. Outside the wind was now
dashing the rain in angry gusts against the canvas, and moaning
drearily through the tree tops. Within the fire crackled cheerily. The
tent was dry and snug and warm. The bed of fragrant balsam and spruce
boughs, the smell of the fire and the soft candle-light combined to
give it an indescribable atmosphere of luxury.

In the morning the weather had not improved. The wind had risen during
the night, and was driving the rain in sheets over the Bay. David went
outside to make a survey, and when he returned he reported:

"'Twill be a nasty day abroad."

"Let's bide here till the rain stops," suggested Jamie.

"The wind's fair, and if she keeps up and don't turn too strong we'll
make Fort Pelican by evenin' whatever, if we goes," David objected.

"'Twon't be so bad, once we're out and gets used to un," said Andy.

"No, 'twon't be so bad," urged David. "The wind may shift and fall
calm, when the rain's over, and if we bides here we'll lose time in
gettin' to Fort Pelican. I'm for goin' and makin' the best of un."

"I won't mind un," agreed Jamie, stoutly.

"I got grit to travel in the rain, and we wants to make a fast cruise
of un."

It was "nasty" indeed when after breakfast they broke camp and set
sail. In a little while they were wet to the skin, and it was
miserably cold; but they were used enough to the beat of wind and rain
in their faces, and all declared that it was not "so bad" after all.
To these hardy lads of The Labrador rain and cold was no great
hardship. It was all in a day's work, and scudding along before a good
breeze, and looking forward to a good dinner in the kitchen at Fort
Pelican, and to a snug bed at night, they quite forgot the cold and
rain.

During the morning the wind shifted to the westward, and before noon
it drew around to the north-west. With the shift of wind the rain
ceased, and the clouds broke. Then Andy lighted a fire in the stove,
boiled the kettle and fried a pan of salt pork. Hot tea, with bread
dipped in the warm pork grease, warmed them and put them in high
spirits.

"'Tis fine we didn't bide in camp," remarked David as he swallowed a
third cup of tea. "With this fine breeze we'll make Fort Pelican
to-night, whatever."

"I'm fine and warm now," declared Jamie, "but 'twas a bit hard to face
the rain when we starts this marnin'."

"'Tis always the thinkin' about un that makes things hard to do,"
observed David.

"Things we has to do seems wonderful hard before we gets at un, but
mostly they're easy enough after we tackles un. The thinkin'
beforehand's the hardest part of any hard job."

The sun broke out between black clouds scudding across the sky. The
wind was gradually increasing in force. By mid-afternoon half a gale
was blowing, a heavy sea; was running, and the old boat, heeling to
the gale, was in a smother of white water.

"We're makin' fine time!" shouted David, shaking the spray from his
hair.

"We'll sure make Fort Pelican this evenin' early," Andy shouted back.

"We'll not make un!" Jamie protested. "The wind's gettin' too strong!
We'll have to go ashore and make camp!"

"The boat'll stand un," laughed David. "She's a sturdy craft in a
breeze."

"I'm afeared," said Jamie.

"'A scout is brave,'" quoted Andy.

"'Tisn't meant for a scout to be foolish," Jamie insisted. "I'm
afeared of bein' foolish."

"You was braggin' of havin' grit," Andy taunted.

"I has grit and a stout heart," Jamie proudly asserted, "but there's
no such need of haste as to tempt a gale. 'Tis time to lie to and
camp."

David's answer was lost in the smother of a great roller that chased
them, and breaking astern nearly swept him from the tiller. When the
lads caught their breath there was a foot of sea in the bottom of the
boat.

"Bail her out!" bellowed David, shaking the water from his eyes.

"Jamie's right! 'Tis blowin' too high for comfort!" shouted Andy, as
he and Jamie, each with a kettle, bailed. "We'd better not risk goin'
on! Find a lee to make a landin', Davy."

"'Tis against reason not to take shelter!" piped Jamie.

"Fort Pelican's only ten miles away!" David shouted back in protest.
"We'll soon make un in this fine breeze!"

The boat was riding on her beam ends. White horses breaking over her
bow sent showers of foam her whole length. A sudden squall that nearly
capsized her roused David suddenly to their danger.

"Reef the mains'l!" he shouted.

"Make for the lee of Comfort Island!" sputtered Andy through the
spray, as he and Jamie sprang for the mainsail to reef it.

"Make for un!" echoed Jamie. "'Tis against reason to keep goin'."

The wind shrieked through the rigging. Another great roller all but
swamped them. The sudden fury of the wind, the ever higher-piling
seas, and the rollers that had so nearly overwhelmed the boat brought
to David a full sense of their peril. He had been foolhardy and
headstrong in his determination to continue to Fort Pelican. He
realized this now even more fully than Andy and Jamie.

David was a good seaman and fearless, with a full measure of faith in
his skill. Now that his eyes were open to the peril in which he had
placed them, he knew that all the skill he possessed and perhaps more
would be required to take them safely into shelter.

Comfort Island with its offer of snug harbour lay a half mile to
leeward. David brought the boat before the wind, and headed directly
for the island.

Great breakers, pounding the high, rockbound shores of Comfort Island,
and booming like cannon, threw their spray a hundred feet in the air,
enveloping the island in a cloud of mist.

Stretching away from the island for a mile to the westward was a rocky
shoal known as the Devil's Arm. At high tide, in calm weather, it
might be crossed, but now it was a great white barrier of roaring
breakers rising in mighty geysers above the sea.

To the eastward of the island was a mass of black reefs known as the
Devil's Tea Kettle. The Devil's Tea Kettle was always an evil place.
Now it was a great boiling cauldron whose waters rose and fell in a
seething white mass.

It was quite out of the question to round the Devil's Arm and beat
back against the wind to the lee of the island. There was a narrow
passage between the Devil's Tea Kettle and the island. If they could
make this passage it would be a simple matter to fall in behind the
island to shelter and safety.

All of these things David saw at a glance. It was a desperate
undertaking, but it was the only chance, and he held straight for the
passage. If he could keep the boat to her course, he would make it. If
a sudden squall of wind overtook them the leeway would throw them
upon the island breakers and they would be swallowed up in an instant
and pounded to pieces upon the rocks.

Over and over again David breathed the prayer: "Lord, take us through
safe! Lord, take us through safe!" His face was set, but his nerves
were iron. Andy and Jamie, tense with the peril and excitement of the
adventure, crouched in the bottom of the boat. As they drew near the
island, Jamie shouted encouragingly:

"Keep your grit, and a stout heart like a man, Davy!" but the roar of
breakers drowned his voice, and David did not hear.

"Is you afraid, Jamie?" Andy yelled in Jamie's ear.

"Aye," answered Jamie, "but I has plenty of grit."

He who knows danger and meets it manfully though he fears it, is
brave, and Jamie and all of them were brave.

The boat was in the passage at last. David, every nerve tense, held
her down to it. On the right seethed the Devil's Tea Kettle, sending
forth a continuous deafening roar. On the left was Comfort Island with
a boom! boom! of thundering breakers smashing against its high, sullen
bulwarks of black rocks. The boat was so near that spray from the
breakers fell over it in a shower.

[Illustration: ON THE RIGHT SEETHED THE DEVIL'S TEA KETTLE]

It was over in a moment. The Devil's Tea Kettle, with all its loud
threats, was behind them. The boat shot down along the shore, David
swung to port, and they were safe in the quiet waters to the lee of
the island.

"Thank the Lord!" said David reverently, as he brought the little
craft to and the sail flapped idly.

"'Twere a close shave," breathed Jamie.

"A wonderful close shave," echoed Andy.

"You had grit," said Jamie. "You has plenty o' grit, Davy--and a stout
heart, like a man. 'Twere wonderful how you cracked her through!
There's nary a man on the coast could have done better'n that!"

"'Twere easy enough," David boasted with a laugh as he wiped the spray
from his face, and unshipping the rudder proceeded to scull the boat
into a natural berth between the rocks.

Hardly a breath of the gale raging outside reached them in their snug
little harbour. The boat was made fast with the painter to a ledge,
and the boys climed to the high rocky shore.

An excellent camping place was discovered a hundred yards back in a
grove of stunted spruce trees that had rooted themselves in the scant
soil that covered the rocks, and held fast, despite the Arctic blasts
that swept across the Bay to rake the island during the long winters.
Here the tent was pitched, and everything carried up from the boat and
stowed within to dry. Fifteen minutes later the tent stove was
crackling cheerily and sending forth comfort to the drenched young
mariners. "There'll be no hurry in the marnin'," said David when they
had eaten supper and lighted a candle. "We'll stay up to-night till we
gets the outfit all dried, and if we're late about un we'll sleep a
bit later in the marnin', to make up. We'll make Fort Pelican in an
hour, or two hours _what_ever, if we has a civil breeze in the
marnin'."

"We'll not be gettin' away from Fort Pelican to-morrow, will we?"
asked Andy.

"We'll take the day for visitin' the folk and hearin' the news, and
start back the marnin' after," suggested David.

It was near midnight when they crawled into their beds to drop into a
ten-knot sleep, and they slept so soundly than none of them awoke
until they were aroused by the sun shining upon the tent the next
morning.

Breakfast was prepared and eaten leisurely. There was no hurry. The
wind had fallen to a moderate stiff breeze, and Fort Pelican, through
the narrows connecting Eskimo Bay with the sea outside, was almost in
sight.

When the dishes were washed Andy and Jamie took down the tent, while
David shouldered a pack and preceded them to the place where they had
moored the boat the previous evening. A few minutes later he came
running back, and in breathless excitement startled them with the
announcement:

"The boat's gone!"

"Gone where?" asked Andy incredulously.

"Gone! I'm not knowin' _where_!" exclaimed David.

"Has she been took?" asked Jamie, excitedly.

"Took!" said David. "The painter were untied and she were took!
There's tracks about of big boots with nails in un!"

Andy and Jamie ran down with David. No trace of the boat was to be
found.

In the earth above the shore were plainly to be seen the tracks of
two men wearing hobnailed boots.

"They's fresh tracks," declared David.

"Made this marnin'," Andy agreed. "They's the same kind of tracks as
the ones I see under Lem's window. Whoever 'twere made these tracks
shot Lem and took his silver."

"And now we're left here on the island with no way of gettin' off,"
said David.

"What'll we be doin'? How'll we ever get away?" asked Jamie in
consternation.

But that was a question none of them could answer.




CHAPTER VII

THE MYSTERY OF THE BOAT


The boys looked at each other in consternation. They were marooned on
a desolate, rocky, sparsely wooded island. Boats passed only at rare
intervals, and a fortnight, or even a month, might elapse before an
opportunity for rescue offered. Their provisions would scarcely last a
week, and the island was destitute of game.

"Whoever 'twere took the boat," Andy suggested presently, "were on the
island when we comes."

"Aye," David agreed, "and makin' for Fort Pelican. They been up as far
as Lem's and they's gettin' away with Lem's silver to sell un."

"'Tis strange boots they wears," said Jamie. "Strange boots them is
with nails in un."

"'Twere no man of The Labrador made them tracks," David declared.

"I never sees boots with nails in un," said Andy, "except the boots
the lumber folks wears over at the new camp at Grampus River."

"Aye," agreed David, "they wears un. When we goes over with Pop last
month when the big steamer comes I sees un. Plenty of un wears boots
with nails in."

"That's who 'twere took our boat!" said Andy. "'Twere men from the
Grampus River lumber camp."

"Let's track un and see where they were camped," suggested David.

The trail was easily followed. Here and there a footprint appeared
where soil had drifted in among the rocks above the shore. The trail
led them three hundred yards to the eastward, and then down into a
sheltered hollow just above the water's edge, where a small boat was
drawn up upon the shore.

"Here's a boat!" exclaimed Jamie, who had run ahead.

"A boat!" shouted David. "They left un and took our boat."

"And good reason!" said Jamie, who had reached the skiff. "The
bottom's half knocked out of un."

It was evident that the boat had been driven upon the rocks in making
a landing, and a jagged hole a foot square appeared in the bottom,
rendering it in that condition quite useless. Near by a tent had been
pitched, and there was no doubt that the men who had abandoned the
boat had been in camp for a day at least in the sheltered hollow.

The boys turned the boat over and examined the break.

"'Tis a bad place to mend," observed David.

"But we can mend un," declared Andy. "We can mend un by noon whatever,
and get to Fort Pelican this evenin'."

"I'm doubtin'," David shook his head. "'Twill take a day to mend un
whatever, and she'll be none too safe. 'Twill be hard to make un
water-tight."

"We can mend un," Andy insisted.

A close examination of the tracks disclosed the fact that there had
undoubtedly been two men in the party. They had reached the island
before the rain of two days before. This was disclosed by the fact
that some of the tracks were partly washed away by the rain, and the
earth was caked where the wind and sun had dried it afterwards.

Natives of the coast, as was the case with David and Jamie and Andy,
wore home-made sealskin boots in summer and buckskin moccasins in
winter. The sealskin boots had moccasin feet with one thickness of
skin, and were soft and pliable. None of them ever wore soled boots
that would admit of hobnails. It was plain to the boys, therefore,
that the men who made the tracks were not natives of the country.

Early in the summer a lumber company had begun the erection of a camp
at Grampus River, which lay twenty miles to the southward from The
Jug, and on the opposite side of Eskimo Bay. A steamship had brought
in men and supplies, and all summer men had been building camps and
preparing for lumbering operations during the coming winter.

It was the first steamer to enter the Bay, and its advent had been an
occasion of much curiosity on the part of the people. Many of them
made excursions to Grampus River to see the strangers at work. Thomas
had made such an excursion with David and Andy. Strange, rough,
blasphemous men they seemed to the God-fearing folk of the country.
These were the men wearing hobnailed boots of which David spoke, and
there was small doubt in the mind of the boys that the men who had
camped on the island and had stolen the boat were from the Grampus
River lumber camp.

It proved a tedious undertaking to repair and make seaworthy the
damaged boat. The trees on the island were, for the most part, small
gnarled spruce, twisted and stunted by the northern blasts which swept
the Bay. After some search, however, they discovered a white spruce
tree suitable for their purpose, with a trunk ten inches in diameter.
David felled it and cut from its butt a two-foot length. This he
proceeded to split into as thin slabs as possible. Then with their
jack-knives the boys began the tedious task of whittling the surfaces
of the slabs into smooth boards, first trimming them down to an inch
and a half in thickness with the axes.

"How'll we make un fast when we gets un done?" asked Jamie. "We has no
nails."

"I'm thinkin' of that," said David. "I'm not knowin' yet, but we'll
find some way."

"I've got a way," Andy announced. "I been thinkin' and thinkin' and I
found a way to make un fast."

"How'll you make un fast now without nails?" David asked expectantly.

"We'll tie un with spruce roots, like the Injuns puts their canoes
together," explained Andy. "We'll cut holes in each end of un in the
right place to tie un fast to the braces of the boat. We'll have to
make holes in the bottom of the boat each side of the braces for the
roots to come through so we can make un fast. That'll hold un. Then
when we've made un fast we'll caulk un up with spruce gum."

"Why can't we cut strips of sealskin off our sleepin' bags for strings
to tie un with?" suggested David. "'Twould be easier than makin'
spruce root strings, and quicker too, and the sealskin would be strong
and hold un tight."

"Yes, and soon's the sealskin gets wet she'll stretch," Andy objected.
"Then the boards would loosen up and let the water in."

"I never thought of the sealskin stretchin', but she sure would.
You're fine at thinkin' things out, Andy!" said David admiringly. "The
spruce roots won't stretch though. 'Tis a fine way to fix un now, and
she'll work. There's no doubtin' she'll work."

"'Twill take all day," Andy calculated, adding with pride, "but once
we gets un on they'll hold. I'll get the roots now and put un to
soak."

Andy dug around the white spruce tree and in a little while gathered a
sufficient quantity of long string-like roots. He scraped them and
then split them carefully with his knife. When they were split he
filled the big kettle with water from a spring, placed the roots in it
and put them over the fire to boil.

They all worked as hard as they could on the boards, and when dinner
time came David announced that the boards were smooth enough for their
purpose.

"Now all we'll have to do," said he as he sliced pork for dinner, "is
to make the holes in un and fasten un on."

"What were that now?" Jamie interrupted as a hoarse blast broke upon
the air.

"'Tis the steamer whistle!" David dropped the knife with which he was
slicing pork, and with Jamie and Andy at his heels ran to the top of
the highest rock on the island, where a wide view of the Bay lay
before them.

A mile away the lumber company's big steamer was feeling its way
cautiously toward the west, bound inward to the Grampus River camps.
The boys waved their caps and shouted at the top of their lungs, but
no one on the steamer appeared to see them. It was not until the great
strange vessel had become a mere speck in the distance that they
turned back to the preparation of dinner.

"They didn't see us," said David in disappointment.

"We're not wantin' to go to Grampus River, whatever," Andy cheered.
"We're goin' to Fort Pelican when we has the boat fixed up, and she's
'most done."

After dinner they settled to the task. Two of the narrow boards which
they had prepared were required to cover the break, which occurred
between two braces. The edges of the boards where they were to join
were whittled straight, that the joint might be made as tight as
possible. Then David held them in place while Andy marked the position
for the holes through which the spruce root thongs were to pass.

Four holes were to be cut in each end of both boards, and holes to
match in the bottom of the boat, and in an hour they were neatly
reamed out. When Andy removed his thongs from the water they were
quite soft and pliable, and proved to be strong and tough.

Andy lashed the boards into place, threading the thongs through the
holes and drawing them round the brace several times at each place
where provision had been made for them. Thus a dozen thicknesses of
fibre bound the boards to the brace at each set of holes.

It was now necessary to collect the spruce gum and prepare it. Gum was
plentiful enough, and in half an hour they had collected enough to
half fill the frying-pan. To this was added a little lard, and the gum
and grease melted over the fire and thoroughly mixed.

"What you puttin' the grease in for?" asked Jamie curiously.

"So when we pours un in the cracks and she hardens she won't be
brittle and crack," David explained.

The hot mixture was now poured into the joints between the boards and
at all points where the new boards came into contact with the boat,
and into the holes where the lashings occurred. In a few minutes it
hardened, and the boys surveyed their work with pride and
satisfaction.

"Now we'll try un," said David, "and see if she leaks."

"She'll never leak where she's mended," asserted Andy.

They slipped the boat into the water and Andy's prediction proved
true. Not a drop of water oozed through the joints, and the boat was
as snug and tight and seaworthy as any boat that ever floated.

"'Tis too late to start to-night," said David, "but we'll be away at
crack o' dawn in the marnin', whatever. 'Tis fine they left the sail
and oars."

And at crack of dawn in the morning the boys were away. The day was
misty and disagreeable, but David and Andy knew the way as well as you
and I know our city streets. They rounded the Devil's Arm, a friendly
tide helped them through the narrows, and in mid-forenoon the low
white buildings of Fort Pelican appeared in misty outline through the
fog. A few minutes later they swung alongside the Fort Pelican jetty,
and there, to their amazement, firmly tied to the jetty, lay their own
big boat.

No one about the Post could explain whence the boat had come or how it
reached the jetty. The Post servants stated that they had not noticed
it until after the departure of the lumber steamer. They had
recognized it as Thomas Angus's boat, for in that country men know
each other's boats as our country folk know their neighbours' horses.

The lumber ship had arrived on the morning of the gale, and had
anchored in the harbour awaiting the arrival of one of the company's
officers on the mail boat. The mail boat had arrived the previous
morning, and both the mail boat and lumber ship had steamed away
shortly after the mail boat's arrival. Many lumbermen had been ashore.
If any of them had come in the boat they had mingled among the others
and had departed either on the lumber ship, which had gone up the Bay
to Grampus River, or on the mail boat to Newfoundland.

"I'm thinkin'," said David, "whoever 'twere took Lem's silver fox and
our boat went to Newfoundland to sell the fur."

"There's no doubtin' _that_," agreed Andy.




CHAPTER VIII

TRAILING THE HALF-BREED


Eli Horn paused in the enclosed porch to shoulder his provision pack,
left there upon his arrival home earlier in the evening. He was
passing from the porch when Doctor Joe opened the door.

"Eli," said Doctor Joe, closing the door behind him, "may I have a
word with you?"

"Aye, sir," and Eli stopped.

"I just wished to speak a word of warning," said Doctor Joe quietly.
"Be cautious, Eli, and do nothing you'll regret. Don't be too hasty.
We suspect Indian Jake, but none of us knows certainly that he shot
your father or took the silver fox skin."

"There's no doubtin' he took un! Pop says he took un, and he knows.
I'm goin' to get the silver if I has to kill Injun Jake."

Eli spoke in even, quiet tones, but with the dogged determination of
the man trained to pit his powers of endurance against Nature and the
wilderness. He gave no suggestion of boastfulness, but rather of the
man who has an ordinary duty to perform, and is bent upon doing it to
the best of his ability.

"Don't you think you had better wait and start in the morning? It's a
nasty night to be out," Doctor Joe suggested. "'Twill be hard to make
your way to-night with the wind against you as well as the dark. If
you wait until morning it will give us time to talk things over."

"I'll not stop till I gets the silver," Eli stubbornly declared, "and
I'll get un or kill Injun Jake."

"See here, Eli," Doctor Joe laid his hand on Eli's arm, "your father
says he was not shot until sundown. Indian Jake was at our camp at
Flat Point within the hour after sundown. He never could have paddled
that distance against a down wind in an hour. The boys and I were four
hours coming over here from Flat Point Camp, and I know Indian Jake
could not have covered the distance in anything like an hour."

"'Twere some trick of his! He shot un and he took the silver!" Eli
insisted. "Good-bye, sir. I've got to be goin' or he'll slip away from
me."

"Be careful, Eli," Doctor Joe pleaded. "Don't shoot unless you're
forced to do so to protect yourself."

"'Twill be Injun Jake'll have to be careful," returned Eli as he
strode away in the darkness, and Doctor Joe knew that Eli had it in
his heart to do murder.

The night was pitchy black and a drizzling rain was falling, but Eli
had often travelled on as dark nights, and he was determined. He chose
a light skiff rigged with a leg-o'-mutton sail. The wind was against
him and with the sail reefed and the mast unstepped and stowed in the
bottom of the boat, he slipped a pair of oars into the locks and with
strong, even strokes pulled away, hugging the shore, that he might
take advantage of the lee of the land.

Presently the drizzle became a downpour, but Eli, indifferent to wind
and weather, rowed tirelessly on. There was a dangerous turn to be
made around Flat Point. Here for a time he lost the friendly shelter
of the land, and continuous and tremendous effort was called for in
the rough seas; but, guided by the roar of the breakers on the shore,
he compassed it and presently fell again under the protection of the
land.

With all his effort Eli had not progressed a quarter of the distance
toward The Jug when dawn broke. With the first light he made a safe
landing, cut a stick of standing dead timber, chopped off the butt,
and splitting it that he might get at the dry core, whittled some
shavings and lighted a fire. His provision bag was well filled. No
Labradorman travels otherwise. A kettle of hot tea sweetened with
molasses, a pan of fried fat pork and some hard bread (hardtack)
satisfied his hunger.

The wind was rising and the rain was flying in blinding sheets, but
the shore still protected him, and the moment his simple breakfast was
eaten Eli again set forward. Presently, however, another long point
projected out into the Bay to force him into the open. He turned about
in his boat and for several minutes studied the white-capped seas
beyond the point.

"I'll try un," he muttered, and settled again to his oars.

But try as he would Eli could not force his light craft against the
wind, and at length he reluctantly dropped back again under the lee
of the land and went ashore.

"There'll be no goin' on to-day," he admitted. "I'll have to make camp
whatever."

Under the shelter of the thick spruce forest where he was fended from
the gale and drive of the rain, he cut a score of poles. One of them,
thicker and stiffer than the others, he lashed between two trees at a
height of perhaps four feet. At intervals of three or four inches he
rested the remaining poles against the one lashed to the trees,
arranging them at an angle of fifty-five degrees and aligning the
butts of the poles evenly upon the ground. These he covered with a
mass of boughs and marsh grass as a thatching. The roof thatched to
his satisfaction, he broke a quantity of boughs and with some care
prepared a bed under the lean-to.

His shelter and bed completed, he cut and piled a quantity of dry logs
at one end of the lean-to. Then he felled two green trees and cut the
trunks into four-foot lengths. Two of these he placed directly in
front of the shelter and two feet apart, at right angles to the
shelter. Across the ends of the logs farthest from his bed he piled
three of the green sticks to serve as a backlog, and in front of
these lighted his fire. When it was blazing freely he piled upon it,
and in front of the green backlogs, several of the logs of dry wood.

Despite the rain, the fire burned freely, and presently the interior
of Eli's lean-to was warm and comfortable. He now removed his
rain-soaked jacket and moleskin trousers and suspended them from the
ridge-pole, where they would receive the benefit of the heat and
gradually dry.

Stripped to his underclothing, Eli crouched before the fire beneath
the front of the shelter. At intervals he turned his back and sides
and chest toward the heat and in the course of an hour succeeded in
drying his underclothing to his satisfaction. His moleskin trousers
were still damp, but he donned them, and renewing the fire he
stretched himself luxuriously for a long and much needed rest.




CHAPTER IX

ELI SURPRISES INDIAN JAKE


When Eli awoke late in the afternoon the rain had ceased, but the wind
was blowing a living gale. There was a roar and boom and thunder of
breakers down on the point and echoing far away along the coast. The
wind shrieked and moaned through the forest.

Under his shelter beneath the thick spruce trees, however, Eli was
well enough protected. He renewed the fire, which had burned to
embers, and prepared dinner. The storm that prevented him from
travelling would also hold Indian Jake a prisoner. This thought
yielded him a degree of satisfaction.

He took no advantage of the leisure to reconsider and weigh the
circumstantial evidence against Indian Jake. He had accepted it as
conclusive proof of the half-breed's guilt and he had already
convicted him of the crime. Once Eli had arrived at a conclusion his
mind was closed to any line of reasoning that might tend to
controvert that conclusion. He prided himself upon this characteristic
as strength of will, while in reality it was a weakness. But Eli was
like many another man who has enjoyed greater opportunities in the
world than ever fell to Eli's lot.

Once Eli had set himself upon a trail he never turned his back upon
the object he sought or weakened in his determination to attain it.
His object now was to overtake Indian Jake and have the matter out
with the half-breed once and for all. Well directed, this trait of
unyielding determination is an excellent one. It is the foundation of
success in life if the object sought is a worthy one. But in this
instance Eli's objective was not alone the recovery of the silver fox
skin, though this was the chief incentive. Coupled with it was a
desire for vengeance, prompted by hate, and vengeance is the child of
the weakest and meanest of human passions.

When Eli had eaten he shouldered his rifle and strolled back into the
forest. Presently he flushed a covey of spruce grouse, which rose from
the ground and settled in a tree. Flinging his rifle to his shoulder,
he fired and a grouse tumbled to the ground. He fired again, and
another fell. The living birds, with a great noise of wings, now
abandoned the tree and Eli picked up the two victims. He had clipped
their heads off neatly. This he observed with satisfaction. His rifle
shot true and his aim was steady. What chance could Indian Jake have
against such skill as that?

Eli plucked the birds immediately, while they were warm, for delay
would set the feathers, and his game being sufficient for his present
needs, he returned to his bivouac on the point.

It was mid-afternoon the following day before the wind and rain had so
far subsided as to permit Eli to turn the point and proceed upon his
journey. Even then, with all his effort, the progress he made against
the north-west breeze was so slow that it was not until the following
forenoon that he reached The Jug. Thomas saw him coming and was on the
jetty to welcome him.

"How be you, Eli?" Thomas greeted. "I'm wonderful glad to see you.
Come right up and have a cup o' tea."

"How be you, Thomas? Is Injun Jake here?"

"He were here," said Thomas, "but he only stops one day to help me
get the outfit ready and then he goes on in his canoe to hunt bear up
the Nascaupee River whilst he waits there for me to go to the Seal
Lake trails. You want to see he?"

"Aye, and I'm goin' to see whatever!"

While Eli had a snack to eat and a cup of tea with Thomas and Margaret
he told Thomas of Indian Jake's call upon his father, of the shooting
and of the robbery which followed.

"Injun Jake turns back after leavin' and shoots Pop and takes the
silver," he concluded, "and I'm goin' to get the silver whatever, even
if I has to shoot Injun Jake to get un!"

"Is you sure, now, 'twere Injun Jake does un?" asked Thomas, unwilling
to believe his friend and partner capable of such treachery. By
disposition Thomas was naturally cautious of passing judgment or of
accusing anyone of misdeed without conclusive proof.

"There's no doubtin' that!" insisted Eli. "There was nobody else to do
un. 'Twere Injun Jake."

A shift of wind to the southward assisted Eli on his way. Early that
evening he reached the Hudson's Bay Company's post, twenty miles west
of The Jug. Here he stopped for supper and learned from Zeke Hodge,
the Post servant, that Indian Jake had passed up Grand Lake in his
canoe two days before. Zeke expressed doubt as to Eli's finding the
half-breed at the Nascaupee River. He stated it as his opinion that if
Indian Jake were guilty of the crime, as he had no doubt, he was
planning an escape and had in all probability immediately plunged into
the interior, in which case he was already hopelessly beyond pursuit
and had fled the Bay country for good and all. Like Eli, Zeke
convicted the half-breed at once.

The Eskimo Bay Post of the Hudson's Bay Company is the last inhabited
dwelling as the traveller enters the wilderness; he might go on and on
for a thousand miles to Hudson Bay and in the whole vast expanse of
distance no other human habitation will he find. His camps will be
pitched in the depths of forests or on desolate, naked barrens; and
always, in forests or on barrens, he will hear the rush and roar of
mighty rivers or the lapping waves of wide, far-reaching lakes. The
timber wolf will startle him from sleep in the dead of night with its
long, weird howl, rising and falling in dismal cadence, or the silence
will be broken perchance by the wild, uncanny laugh of the loon
falling upon the darkness as a token of ill omen, but in all the vast
land he will hear no human voice and he will find no human
companionship.

Indian Jake had told Thomas that he would camp above the mouth of the
Nascaupee River, a dozen miles beyond the point where the river enters
Grand Lake. It was a journey of sixty miles or more from the Post.

Eli set out at once. Five miles up a short wide river brought him to
Grand Lake, which here reached away before him to meet the horizon in
the west, and at the foot of the lake he camped to await day, for the
lake and the country before him were unfamiliar.

Early in the afternoon of the third day after leaving the Post, Eli's
boat turned into the wide mouth of the Nascaupee River, and keeping a
sharp look-out, he rowed silently up the river. It was an hour before
sundown when his eye caught the white of canvas among the trees a
little way from the river.

With much caution Eli drew his boat among the willows that lined the
bank and made it fast. Slinging his cartridge bag over his shoulder,
and with his rifle resting in the hollow of his arm, ready for instant
action, he crept forward toward Indian Jake's camp. Taking advantage
of the cover of brush, he moved with extreme caution until he had the
tent and surroundings under observation.

There was no movement about the camp and the fire was dead. It was
plain Indian Jake had not returned for the evening. Eli crouched and
waited, as a cat crouches and waits patiently for its prey.

Presently there was the sound of a breaking twig and a moment later
Indian Jake, with his rifle on his arm, appeared out of the forest.

Eli, his rifle levelled at Indian Jake, rose to his feet with the
command:

"You stand where you is; drop your gun!"

"Why, how do, Eli? What's up?" Indian Jake greeted. "What's bringin'
you to the Nascaupee?"

"You!" Eli's face was hard with hate. "'Tis you brings me here, you
thief! I wants the silver you takes when you shoots father, and 'tis
well for you Doctor Joe comes and saves he from dyin' or I'd been
droppin' a bullet in your heart with nary a warnin'!"

"What you meanin' by that?"

"Be you givin' up the silver?"

"No!"

[Illustration: "YOU STAND WHERE YOU IS AND DROP YOUR GUN"]

"I say again, give me that silver fox you stole from father!"

Indian Jake's small hawk eyes were narrowing. He made no answer, but
slipped his right hand forward toward the trigger of his rifle, though
the barrel of the rifle still rested in the hollow of his left arm.

"Drop un!" Eli commanded, observing the movement. "Drop that gun on
the ground!"

Indian Jake stood like a statue, eyeing Eli, but he made no movement.

"I said drop un!" Eli's voice was cold and hard as steel. He was in
deadly earnest. "If you tries to raise un or don't drop un before I
count ten I'll put a bullet in your heart!"

Indian Jake might have been of chiselled stone. He did not move a
muscle or wink an eye-lash but his small eyes were centred on every
motion Eli made. He still held his rifle, the barrel resting in the
hollow of his left arm, his right hand clutching the stock behind the
hammer, his finger an inch from the trigger.

For an instant there was a death-like silence. Then Eli began to
count:

"One--two--three--four--"

The words fell like strokes of a hammer upon an anvil. Eli intended
to shoot. He was a man of his word. He made no threat that he was not
prepared to execute, and Indian Jake knew that Eli would shoot on the
count of ten.

"Five--six--seven--eight--"

Still Indian Jake made no move save that the little hawk eyes had
narrowed to slits. He did not drop his gun. From all the indications,
he did not hear Eli's count.

"Nine--ten!"

True to his threat, Eli's rifle rang out with the last word of his
count.




CHAPTER X

THE END OF ELI'S HUNT


Indian Jake, quick as a cat, had thrown himself upon the ground with
Eli's last count. Like the loon that dives at the flash of the
hunter's gun, he was a fraction of a second quicker than Eli. Now,
lying prone, his rifle at his shoulder, he had Eli covered, and the
chamber of Eli's rifle was empty.

"Drop that gun!" he commanded.

Eli, believing in the first instant that Indian Jake had fallen as the
result of the shot, was taken wholly by surprise. He stood dazed and
dumb with the smoking rifle in his hand. He did not at once realize
that the half-breed had him covered. His brain did not work as rapidly
as Indian Jake's. His immediate sensation as he heard Indian Jake's
voice was one of thankfulness that, after all, there was no stain of
murder on his soul. Even yet he had no doubt Indian Jake was wounded.
He had taken deadly aim, and he could not understand how any escape
could have been possible.

"Drop that gun!" Indian Jake repeated. "I won't count. I'll shoot."

Eli's brain at last grasped the situation. Indian Jake was grinning
broadly, and it seemed to Eli the most malicious grin he had ever
beheld. He did not question Indian Jake's determination to shoot. It
was too evident that the half-breed, grinning like a demon, was in a
desperate mood. Eli dropped his rifle as though it were red hot and
burned his hands.

"Step out here!" Indian Jake, rising to his feet, indicated an open
space near the tent.

Eli did as he was told.

"Shake the ca'tridges out of your bag on the ground!"

Eli turned his cartridge bag over, and the cartridges which it
contained rattled to the ground.

"Turn your pockets out!"

A turning of the pockets disclosed no further ammunition.

Indian Jake took Eli's rifle from the ground, emptied the magazine,
and placed the rifle in the tent.

"Where's your boat?" he asked.

"Just down here."

"You go ahead. Show me."

Eli guided Indian Jake to the boat, and while he remained on the bank
under threat of the rifle, the half-breed went through his belongings
in the boat in a further search for ammunition. Satisfied that there
was none, he replaced the things as he had found them, and was
grinning amiably when he rejoined Eli upon the bank.

"Come 'long up to camp," he invited, quite as though Eli were a most
welcome guest.

"Give me that silver fox!" Eli's anger had mastered his surprise.

"I won't give un to you, but don't be mad, Eli," Indian Jake grinned
in vast enjoyment.

"You stole un!" Eli burst out. "And you were thinkin' to do murder!"

"Did I now?"

"You did!"

Indian Jake did not deign to deny or confess. Eli, at his command,
returned to camp. Indian Jake handed him the tea-kettle.

"Fill un at the river," he directed.

While Eli obeyed silently and sullenly, Indian Jake lighted a fire,
and when Eli returned put the kettle on. Then he brought forth his
frying-pan, filled it with sliced venison, and as he placed it over
the fire, remarked:

"Knocked a buck down this mornin'."

Eli said nothing. The odour of frying venison was pleasant. Eli was
hungry, and when the venison was fried and tea made, he swallowed his
pride and silently accepted Indian Jake's invitation to eat.

When they had finished, Indian Jake cut a large joint of venison, and
presented it to Eli with his empty rifle, remarking as he did so:

"The deer's meat's a surprise. I like to surprise folks. Taste good
goin' home. I'll keep the ca'tridges. You might hurt somebody if you
had un. You'll get quite a piece down before you camp to-night."

"Were you takin' that silver?" asked Eli, changing his accusation to a
question.

"Maybe I were and maybe I weren't," Indian Jake grinned. "'Twouldn't
do me any good to tell you if I had un, and if I told you I didn't
have un you wouldn't believe me. Maybe I've got un. You better be
goin'. I'd ask you to stay, Eli, and I'd like to have you, but you
don't like me and you'd better go on."

"I don't want the deer's meat," said Eli in sullen resentment.

"You ain't got any ca'tridges, and you can't shoot any fresh meat,"
insisted Indian Jake, adding with a grin: "She'll go good. Take un
along, I got plenty. It's just a little surprise present for you bein'
so kind as not to shoot me."

Eli, doubtless deciding that he had better take what he could get,
though a bit of venison was small compensation for a silver fox,
accepted the meat. Indian Jake accompanied him to the boat, and as he
dropped down the river he could see Indian Jake still on the bank
watching him until he turned a bend.

Without cartridges for his rifle, Eli felt himself as helpless as a
wolf without teeth or a cat without claws. He was subdued and humbled.
He had had Indian Jake completely in his power, and through delay in
taking prompt advantage of his position, had permitted the half-breed
to capture and disarm him.

The thought increased his anger toward Indian Jake. He had no doubt
the man had the silver fox in his possession. If there had been any
doubt in the first instance that Indian Jake was guilty, and Eli had
never admitted that there was doubt, he was now entirely satisfied of
the half-breed's guilt. Indian Jake, indeed, had quite boldly stated
that he "might" have it, and Eli accepted this as an admission that he
_did_ have it.

"There'll be no use getting more ca'tridges and goin' back," Eli
mused. "He's had a warnin' and he'll not bide in that camp another
day. He'll flee the country."

Then Eli's thoughts turned to his old father and mother.

"The silver's gone, and it leaves Pop and Mother in a bad way," he
mused. "They've been fondlin' that skin half the winter. Pop's had un
out a hundred times to see how fine and black 'twere, and shook un out
to see how thick and deep the fur is. And they been countin' and
countin' on the things they'd be gettin' and needs, and can't get now
she's gone. And they been countin' on the money they'd have to lay by
for their feeble days when they needs un. They'll never get over
mournin' the loss of un. 'Twere worth a fortune, and Pop'll never
cotch another. He were hopin' and hopin' every year as long as I
remembers to cotch a silver, and none ever comes to his traps till
this un comes. And now she's gone!"

Perhaps had the silver fox skin been Eli's own, and perhaps had his
father and mother not built so many hopes and laid so many plans upon
the little fortune it was to have brought them, Eli would never have
ventured to the verge of murder to recover it. Even now, with all his
regrets, he thanked God from the bottom of his heart that he had not
killed Indian Jake and stained his hands with blood.

"'Twere the mercy of God sent the bullet abroad," said he reverently.
"Indian Jake's a thief and he deserves to be killed, but if I'd killed
he I'd never rested an easy hour again while I lives. But I might o'
clipped his trigger hand, whatever," he thought with regret. "I can
clip off the head of a pa'tridge every time, and I might have clipped
his hand, and got the skin and took he back for Doctor Joe to fix up."

Three days later Eli pulled his boat wearily into The Jug. The boys
had returned, and with Thomas they met him on the jetty.

"Did you find Injun Jake?" Thomas asked anxiously.

"Aye," said Eli, "he were there."

Eli volunteered no further details for a moment. Then he added:

"I didn't kill he, thank the Lord, but he's got the silver. He said he
had un, and he took my ca'tridges away from me."

"Said he had un? Now, that's strange--wonderful strange. Come in, Eli,
supper's ready," Thomas invited, manifestly relieved that Eli had not
succeeded in accomplishing his rash purpose. "You'll bide the night
with us, and while you eats tell us about un, and the lads'll tell
what were happenin' to they."

Margaret was setting the table. She greeted Eli cordially, and
arranged a plate for him while he washed at the basin behind the
stove.

"Come," invited Thomas, "set in. We've got a wonderful treat."

"What be that, now?" asked Eli as Margaret placed a dish of steaming,
mealy boiled potatoes upon the table.

"Potaters," Thomas announced grandly. "Doctor Joe brings un on the
mail boat from where he's been, and onions too. Margaret, peel some
onions and set un on for Eli. They's fine just as they is without
cookin'."

The onions came, and when thanks had been offered Eli tasted his
first potato.

"They is fine, now! Wonderful fine eatin'," he declared.

"Try an onion, now. They's fine, too," Thomas urged.

Eli took an onion.

"She has a strange smell," he observed before biting into it.

Eli took a liberal mouthful of the onion. He began to chew it. A
strained look spread over his face. Tears filled his eyes. But Eli was
brave, and he never flinched.

"'Tis fine, I like un wonderful fine," Eli volunteered presently,
adding, "if she didn't burn so bad."

"Take just a bit at a time," advised Thomas, laughing heartily, "and
eat un with bread or potaters and you won't notice the burn of un."

Presently Eli told of his experiences with Indian Jake, and Andy told
of the tracks he had seen under the window, and all of the boys told
of what had happened on the island, the theft of the boat, the tracks
of the nailed boots and the discovery of the boat at Fort Pelican.

Then Eli made an announcement that again laid the burden of suspicion
more strongly than ever upon Indian Jake.

"I were workin' at the lumber camps a week this summer helpin' they
out," said Eli. "Whilst I were there Indian Jake comes and trades a
pair of skin boots with one of the lumber men for a pair of their
boots, the kind with nails in un. He the same as says he has the fur,
and 'twere he took un."

"Injun Jake wears skin boots when he come to our camp on Flat P'int,"
said David.

"Aye, 'tis likely," admitted Eli. "He'd be wearin' skin boots in the
canoe, whatever. The nailed boots would be hard on the canoe. He uses
the nailed boots trampin' about, but he'd change un when he travels in
his canoe."

The whole question was canvassed pro and con, and due consideration
given to the length of time that Indian Jake must have consumed in
passing from Horn's Bight to Flat Point. This was alone sufficient in
the mind of Thomas and the boys to lift all suspicion from Indian
Jake, but Eli still held stubbornly to the opposite view.

Two days later, and on the eve of Thomas's departure for the trails,
Doctor Joe returned. Lem had so far recovered that a further stay at
Horn's Bight was unnecessary.

Thomas and Doctor Joe quietly discussed the shooting incident. Lem, it
appeared, had later decided that he may have been shot much earlier in
the afternoon than sundown. What had occurred had fallen into the hazy
uncertainty of a dream.

"What kind of a rifle does Indian Jake use?" asked Doctor Joe.

"A thirty-eight fifty-five," said Thomas.

Doctor Joe drew from his pocket the bullet extracted from Lem's wound.
Thomas examined it critically.

"There's no doubtin' 'tis a thirty-eight fifty-five," he admitted.
"'Tis true Injun Jake gets a pair of nailed boots like the lumber folk
wears. But Injun Jake'll tell me whether 'twere he shot Lem. Injun
Jake'll be fair about un with me whatever. 'Tis hard for me to believe
he did un. If he did, he'll be gone from the Nascaupee when I gets
there. If he didn't, I'll find he waitin'!"

"Let us hope he'll be there, and let us hope he's innocent," said
Doctor Joe.

Some day and in some way every sin is punished and every criminal is
discovered. It is an immutable law of God that he who does wrong must
atone for the wrong. We do not always know how the punishment is
brought about, but the guilty one knows. And so with the shooting and
robbery of Lem Horn. Many months were to pass before the mystery was
to be solved, and then the revelation was to come in a startling
manner in the course of an adventure amid the deep snows of winter.

Thomas sailed away the following morning. They watched his boat pass
down through The Jug and out into the Bay, and then the silence of the
wilderness closed upon him, and no word came as to whether or no
Indian Jake met him at the Nascaupee River camp.




CHAPTER XI

THE LETTER IN THE CAIRN


In Labrador September is the pleasantest month of the year. It is a
period of calm when fogs and mists and cold dreary rains, so frequent
during July and the early half of August, are past, and Nature holds
her breath before launching upon the world the bitter blasts and
blizzards and awful cold of a sub-arctic winter. There are days and
days together when the azure of the sky remains unmarred by clouds,
and the sun shines uninterruptedly. The air, brilliantly transparent,
carries a twang of frost. Evening is bathed in an effulgence of
colour. The sky flames in startling reds and yellows blending into
opals and turquoise, with the shadowy hills lying in a purple haze in
the west.

Then comes night and the aurora. Wavering fingers of light steal up
from the northern horizon. Higher and higher they climb until they
have reached and crossed the zenith. From the north they spread to the
east and to the west until the whole sky is aflame with shimmering
fire of marvellous changing colours varying from darkest purple to
dazzling white.

The dark green of the spruce and balsam forests is splotched with
golden yellow where the magic touch of the frost king has laid his
fingers and worked a miracle upon groves of tamaracks. The leaves of
the aspen and white birch have fallen, and the flowers have faded.

Spruce grouse chickens, full grown now, rise in coveys with much noise
of wing, and perch in trees looking down unafraid upon any who intrude
upon their forest home. Ptarmigans, still in their coat of mottled
brown and white, gather in flocks upon the naked hills to feed, where
upland cranberries cover the ground in red masses; or on the edge of
marshes where bake apple berries have changed from brilliant red to
delicate salmon pink and offer a sweet and wholesome feast.

The honk and quack of wild geese and ducks, southward bound in great
flocks, disturbs the silence of every inlet and cove and bight, where
the wild fowl pause for a time to rest and feed upon the grasses.

After Thomas's departure Doctor Joe and the boys tidied and snugged
things up for the winter, and many a fine hunt they had, mornings and
evenings, in the edge of a near-by marsh through which a brook coursed
to join the sea. Hunting geese and ducks was indeed a duty, for they
must needs depend upon the hunt for no small share of their living. It
was a duty they enjoyed, however. Skill and a steady hand and a quick
eye are necessary to success, and they never failed to return with a
full bag.

The weather was now cold enough to keep the birds sweet and fresh, and
before September closed a full two score of fine fat geese were
hanging in the enclosed lean-to shed with a promise of many good
dinners in the future.

Between the hunting and the work about home there was no time to be
dawdled vainly away. When there was nothing more pressing the
wood-pile always stood suggestively near the door inviting attention,
and it was necessary to saw and split a vast deal of wood to keep the
big box stove supplied, for it had a great maw and would develop a
marvellous appetite when the weather grew cold.

No extended travelling was possible for Doctor Joe on his errands of
mercy until the sea should freeze and dogs and sledge could be called
into service. But during the fine September weather he and the boys
made two short trips up the Bay, where there was ailing in some of the
families.

In the course of these excursions they took occasion to visit
Let-in-Cove, which lay just outside Grampus River, where the new
lumber camps were situated, and also Snug Cove and Tuggle Bight, a
little farther on. At Let-in-Cove Peter and Lige Sparks, at Snug Cove
Obadiah Button and Micah Dunk, and at Tuggle Bight Seth Muggs were
enlisted in the scout troop, and a handbook left at each place. These,
indeed, with the three Anguses, were the only boys of scout age within
a radius of fifty miles of The Jug.

There was great excitement among the lads, and Doctor Joe proudly
declared that there would be no finer or more efficient troop of
scouts in all the world than his little troop of eight when they had
become familiar with their duties.

A new field and a broader vision of life was to open to these Labrador
lads, whose life was of necessity circumscribed. They had never been
given the opportunity to play as boys play in more favoured lands.
They had never known the joys of football or cricket or the hundred
other fine, health-giving games that are a part of the life of every
English or Canadian boy. They had never seen a circus or a moving
picture and they had never been in a schoolroom in their lives.

This opportunity to play and study as other boys play and study in
other lands was the thing, perhaps, they longed for above all else.
Doctor Joe had inspired them with ambition. They hungered to learn and
here was the Handbook with many things in it to study, and through
Doctor Joe and the book they were to learn the joy of play.

The new recruits to the troop, however, as well as the Angus boys, had
been close students of their native wilderness. Their eyes were sharp
and their ears were quick. They knew every tree and flower and plant
that grew about them. They knew the birds and their calls and songs.
They knew every animal, its cry and its habits of life. They knew the
fish of the sea and lake and stream. All this was a part of their
training for their future profession of hunters and fishermen.

As hunters they had not learned to look upon the wild things of the
woods as friends and associates. To them the animals were only beasts
whose valuable pelts could be traded at the Post for necessaries of
life or whose flesh was good to eat. Success in life depended upon
man's ability to outwit and slay birds or animals, and the lads held
for them none of the human sympathy that would have added so much to
their own enjoyment.

Now they were to have a new view of life. Doctor Joe was to open to
them a wider, happier vista. It was not in the least to breed in them
discontent with their circumscribed life, but rather to open to their
consciousness the opportunities that lay within their reach, and to
make their life richer and broader and vastly more worth while.

Doctor Joe explained to the five recruits the Tenderfoot Scout
requirements, much as he had explained them to David and Andy and
Jamie. Wilderness dwellers who must take in and fix in the mind at a
glance every unusual tree or stump or stone if they would find their
trail, have a peculiar and remarkable gift of memory born of long
practice and the fact that they must perforce depend upon their
ability to retain the things they see and hear. The lads, therefore,
required no repetition, and learned their lessons with ease.

Though they had never attended school they could all read, stumbling,
to be sure, over the big words, but nevertheless grasping the meaning.
Doctor Joe, during his years in the Bay, had taught not only the Angus
boys but many of the other young people to read. Doctor Joe now marked
the pages that they were to study, and before he and the Angus boys
turned back across the Bay to The Jug it was agreed that the new troop
should hold a week's camp to study and practise together. Hollow Cove,
some five miles from The Jug, was to be the camping ground, and the
first week in October was decided upon as the time.

"We'll start to camp on Monday marnin' of that week," suggested David.
"Come over to The Jug on Sunday. 'Twill be fine to have us all go to
camp together."

"Aye," agreed Micah, "'twill be now, and we'll come, and have a fine
time."

"And we'll all study about the scout things whilst we're in camp,"
piped up Jamie enthusiastically.

"That we will now," David assured.

"Lige, you and Peter bring a tent and stove, and all you need for
setting up camp," Doctor Joe directed. "Can you bring one, too, Seth?"

"Aye," said Seth, "I'll bring un, but we have no tent stove. Pop took
un to the huntin'."

"Obadiah or Micah may bring a stove. You have one, haven't you?"
Doctor Joe asked.

"Aye," said Obadiah, "I has one. I'll bring un along."

"You three fix up an outfit amongst you. There'll be three in a tent,"
Doctor Joe explained. "Andy can go in with Peter and Lige, and I'll
tent with Davy and Jamie."

There was little else than the proposed camping expedition talked
about on the return to The Jug, and in the days that followed David,
Andy and Jamie devoted every spare moment to the study of first aid
and signalling. Doctor Joe, with no end of patience, drilled them so
thoroughly in first aid that they were soon really expert in applying
bandages. He even instructed them in improvising splints and reducing
fractures. In this secluded land, where for three hundred miles up and
down the coast there was no other surgeon than Doctor Joe, it was not
unlikely that some day they would be called upon to set a leg or an
arm.

Doctor Joe was as ignorant, however, of the art of signalling as were
the lads, and he must needs take it up from the very beginning and
study with them. It was decided that they should learn both the
semaphore and Morse codes, and Doctor Joe insisted that neither he nor
the lads should consider the Second Class test satisfactorily passed
until they had not only learned the codes but could send and receive
messages at the rate of speed designated in the handbook as required
for the First Class test.

"It wouldn't be fair to the scouts in the big cities," he declared.
"They have to learn a great many things that we already know how to
do, like building fires, using the axe and knife, and tracking. Those
are things we've been doing all our lives and won't have to practise.
We must make it just as hard for ourselves to become Second Class
Scouts as it is for the city lads. So we'll make the signalling test
that much more difficult."

"I'm thinkin' that's fine now," enthused David, "and when we learn un
we'll know that much more."

"That's the idea!" said Doctor Joe. "And we'll not only learn the
sixteen principal points of the compass, but we'll learn to box the
compass to the quarter point as navigators do."

"I can box un now," grinned David.

"So can I box un!" Andy exclaimed. "Dad told me how, same as he told
Davy."

"And I can learn to box un easy," promised Jamie.

Margaret joined them one fine day in the forest behind the cabin when
they took their Second Class cooking test, and a jolly day they made
of it. It was easy enough to roast a spruce grouse on the end of a
stick. Even Jamie had done that many times. But Doctor Joe was called
upon to solve the problem of cooking potatoes without cooking
utensils, and he did it so satisfactorily that the lads practised it
every day afterward for a week.

He resorted to a simple and ordinary method. He dug a narrow trench
about six inches deep. Upon this he built a fire, which he permitted
to burn until there was a good accumulation of ashes. Then he pushed
the fire back and raked the ashes out of the trench. The potatoes
were now placed in a row at the bottom of the trench and covered with
a good layer of hot ashes. The fire was now drawn back over the ashes
that covered the potatoes and permitted to burn briskly.

At the end of an hour he brushed the fire back at one end sufficiently
to allow a long slender splinter to be pushed down through the ashes
and through a potato. The splinter did not penetrate the potato easily
and the fire was drawn in again to burn for another quarter of an
hour. Then it was raked out and the potatoes removed, to find that,
while the skins were not in the least burned or even scorched, the
potatoes were done to a turn.

"You couldn't have baked them better in your oven, Margaret," laughed
Doctor Joe.

"I never could have baked un half as well," admitted Margaret, adding,
"'tis a wonderful way of cookin'."

"Doctor Joe's fine cookin' everything," declared Andy. "I always likes
his cookin' wonderful well."

"Thank you, Andy. That's high praise," acknowledged Doctor Joe, "but I
could learn a great deal about cooking from Margaret."

"I just does plain cookin'," Margaret deprecated, but flushed with
pleasure at the compliment.

On the last day of September, which was a Friday, David and Doctor Joe
crossed over to the Hudson's Bay Post and took Margaret with them for
a visit to Kate Huddy, the Post servant's daughter, where she was to
remain while the Scouts were enjoying their camp at Hollow Cove.

David and Doctor Joe returned to The Jug on Saturday, and when the
other members of the troop arrived in a boat on Sunday, had their own
tent equipment and food packed and ready for the little expedition on
Monday morning.

It was a jolly meeting. The evening was cold, and when supper was
eaten they gathered around the big box stove which crackled
cheerfully, and Doctor Joe announced that as this was the first
meeting of the troop they must organize and elect leaders, just as
troops were organized everywhere else in the world.

When he had thoroughly explained the necessary steps he read to them a
brief constitution and by-laws which he had previously prepared. These
he had them adopt in due form, and then asked some one to nominate a
patrol leader.

Every one, with one accord, nominated David, and he was duly,
solemnly, and unanimously elected.

"Now," suggested Doctor Joe, "we must have an assistant patrol leader.
Who shall it be?"

"Andy," said Seth Muggs. "Andy's been to the trails and he knows more
about un than anybody exceptin' Davy."

"'Twouldn't be fair," objected Andy. "Davy's patrol leader. 'Tis but
right we put in one of you that comes from across the Bay. I'm saying
Peter Sparks, now."

Doctor Joe agreed with Andy, and Peter Sparks was declared elected.
Then Seth nominated Andy for scribe.

"Because," Seth explained, "Andy'll be right handy to Doctor Joe all
the time and Doctor Joe can help he to do the writin', and he needs
help."

When the election was completed Doctor Joe explained the duties of the
officers and the necessity of obedience to them in the performance of
scout duties.

"Our troop is a team," said Doctor Joe.

"We must pull together. We are like a team of dogs hauling a komatik.
If the dogs all follow the leader and pull together the best that ever
they can they get somewhere. If they don't follow the leader, and one
pulls in one direction and another pulls in a different direction and
some don't pull at all, they never get anywhere and aren't of much
use. Our troop is going to be the best we can make it, by all pulling
together and doing the very best we know how.

"We must always be ready to help other people at all times, as we
promise to do in our oath. If we live up to that we'll do a great deal
of good, first and last, up and down the Bay. If some one's life is in
danger and we can help them even at the risk of our own we must help
them. Everybody wants to be happy. There's nothing that will make us
so happy as to do some fine thing every day that will make someone
else happy.

"We must train our brains and our hands so that we shall always be
prepared to do the right thing and do it quickly. We must learn to
keep our temper and not get angry. Let us take the hard knocks that
come to us with a smile."

The remainder of the evening was spent in playing some rollicking
games that the lads had never heard of before, and which Doctor Joe
taught them. There was the one-legged chicken fight, and one or two
others, as well as hand wrestling, though that they had seen the
Indians play and had practised themselves. They all declared that they
had never in their lives had so much fun.

An early start the following morning brought them to Hollow Cove at
ten o'clock. Hollow Cove was a fine natural harbour. A brook poured
down through a gulch to empty into the Bay, and near its mouth was an
excellent landing-place. Not far from the brook, and a hundred feet
back from the shore, they pitched their tents in the shelter of the
spruce forest where the camp would be well protected from winds and
storms.

While the others set up the sheet-iron stoves in the three tents and
broke spruce boughs and laid the bough beds, David, Micah, and Lige
volunteered to cut wood.

"There's some fine dry wood just to the east'ard and close to shore,"
suggested David, as they picked up their axes. "It's right handy."

A dozen yards from the camp David suddenly stopped and exclaimed:

"What's that now?"

On a great sloping rock close to the shore, but hidden by a jutting
point from the place where they had landed, was a recently made cairn
of boulders capped by a large flat stone.

"Somebody's been here!" said David as they hurried forward to examine
the cairn.

"'Tis wonderful strange to pile stones that way," said Micah. "'Tis
new made, too."

"Maybe it's a cache," suggested Lige, "but it's a rare small un. Look
and see. 'Tis a strange place for a cache!"

David lifted the flat stone from the top and discovered beneath it a
small tin can. In the can was a folded paper. He removed the paper and
unfolding it discovered a message written in a cramped, scrawling
hand.

"Read un, Davy! Read un out loud! You reads writin' good!" said Lige,
and David read:

     "i cum and stayed 2 hour, and wood not stay no longer for i
     hed to go and did not see you comin any were. Then i gos to
     the rock were We Was the day We was hunting Wen We come here
     ferst time. Then i done this way. i Pases 20 Pases up To a
     Hackmatack Tree. it was north. then i Pases 40 Pases west
     To a round rock, Then i Pases 60 Pases south To a wite berch
     i use cumpus. Then i climes a spruce Tree and hangs it and
     it is out of site in the Branches. if You plays me Crookid
     look out, i wont Stand for no Crooked work and You know what
     i will do to anybody plays me Crooked. You no Were to put my
     haf of the Swag. So i can get it Wen i go to get it."

There was no signature.

"That's a strange un--wonderful strange," said David.

"Stranger'n anything I ever sees," declared Lige.

"Whatever is un all about?" asked Micah.

"That's the strangeness of un," said Lige.

"Let's show un to Doctor Joe," suggested David.

But Doctor Joe, when they broke in upon him a moment later, was as
mystified as they.

"It looks," said he, "as though something had been cached and here are
the directions for finding the cache. There's a threat in the letter,
too, and that looks bad. It's a mystery, lads, we'll try to search
out. It doesn't look right. Perhaps it's the clue to some crime."

"How can we search un out?" asked David excitedly. "We're not knowin'
the rock, and there's plenty of rocks hereabouts."

"That's true," admitted Doctor Joe. "Go and put the paper back as you
found it, and we'll see what we can make out of it later."

The whole camp was excited and every one followed David back to the
cairn when he returned to restore the letter to its place in the can.

"'Tis something somebody's tryin' to hide," suggested Peter.

"There's no doubtin' that," said David. "I'm thinkin' 'tis not right
whatever 'tis."

"We'll get camp in shape and have our dinner and then try to solve the
mystery," said Doctor Joe. "It is a real mystery, for no one would
make an ordinary cache in this way, and if it was an honest matter
there would be no threat."




CHAPTER XII

THE HIDDEN CACHE


When camp was made snug and dinner disposed of, Doctor Joe followed
the boys down to the cairn. A careful examination was made of the soil
surrounding the rock upon which the cairn was built, and in loose
gravel close to the shore were found the imprints of feet. It was
evident, however, that rain had fallen since the tracks were made, for
they were so nearly washed away that there could be no certainty
whether they were made by moccasins or nailed boots.

"'Twere a week ago they were here whatever," observed David, rising
upon his feet after a close scrutiny upon hands and knees. "I'm
thinkin' we'll see no sign of un now to help us trail un to the rock
the writin' tells about."

"The ground was hard froze a week ago just as 'tis now," said Lige.
"They'd be leavin' no tracks on froze ground."

"They makes the tracks that shows here whether the ground were froze
or not," observed Seth.

"The gravel were loose and dry so 'tweren't froze," explained Lige,
"but away from the dry gravel 'twere all froze, and they'd make no
tracks to show. Leastways that's how I thinks about un."

"That's good logic," said Doctor Joe. "I'm afraid we'll have to find
the rock without the assistance of any tracks to guide us. There will
surely be other signs, however, and we'll look for them while we look
for the rock."

"Suppose now we scatters and looks up along the brook and along the
ridge for the rock the pacin' were done from," suggested Andy. "'Tis
like to be a different lookin' rock from most of un around here or
they wouldn't have picked un."

"And 'tis like to be a big un too," volunteered Micah. "They'd be
pickin' no little rock for that, whatever. I'm thinkin' 'twill be easy
to know un if we sees un."

"Yes," agreed Doctor Joe, "the rock is probably larger or in some
other way noticeably different from the others. It may be along the
brook, or it may not. They were hunting. It may be a rock where they
camped, or where they agreed to meet after their hunt, and probably
where they boiled their kettle."

"They weren't Bay folk, whatever," asserted David. "The writin' ain't
like any of the Bay folkses writin'. None of un here could write so
fine."

"None of the Bay folk would be hidin' things that way either," said
Andy. "If 'twere anything small enough to hide in a tree they'd been
takin' un with un and not leavin' un behind. If 'twere too big to
carry, they'd just left un in a cache and come back for un when they
gets ready and not do any writin' about un."

"I think you are right, Andy," agreed Doctor Joe. "For the reasons you
give and for still other reasons I feel very certain strangers to the
Bay left the cache."

"What were they meanin' by 'swag,' Doctor Joe?" asked Andy. "I never
hears that word before. 'Tis a wonderful strange word."

"It usually means," explained Doctor Joe, "something that has been
stolen. The use of that word is one of the reasons that leads me to
conclude that it was not written by any of our people of the Bay. I am
quite sure none of them knows what the word means, and like you I
doubt if any of them ever heard it. There seems no doubt, indeed, that
strangers to these parts wrote it, and as there are no other strangers
in the Bay than the lumbermen, we are safe in concluding that the
cairn was built and the note written by someone from the lumber camp
at Grampus River."

"'Swag' is a wonderful strange soundin' word, now," said David. "I
never hears un before."

"I'm thinkin' I knows what 'tis they hid now!" exclaimed Andy
suddenly. "'Tis _Lem Horn's silver_! 'Tis the men hid un that shot Lem
and stole the silver! 'Tweren't Indian Jake shot Lem at all! 'Twere
men from the lumber camp! What they calls 'swag' is Lem's silver!"

"That's what 'tis, now! 'Tis sure Lem Horn's silver!" David exploded
excitedly. "I never would have thought of un bein' that! Andy's
wonderful spry thinkin' things out, and he's mostly always right,
too!"

"And Indian Jake never stole un! He never stole un!" Jamie burst out
joyfully. "I were knowin' all the time he wouldn't steal un! Indian
Jake wouldn't go shootin' folk and stealin' from un!"

"It may be," said Doctor Joe. "At any rate it seems extremely probable
the 'swag' as they call it is stolen property that has been hidden.
That word and the threat together with the other circumstances make it
quite certain, indeed, that whatever it is they refer to was stolen.
That's a safe conclusion to begin with. We have decided that we may be
quite sure, also, that the men that hid the cache so carefully were
none of our own Bay people, but men from the lumber camp. We have
heard of nothing else than Lem Horn's silver fox having been stolen in
the Bay. We have some ground, therefore, to suppose that the 'swag' is
Lem Horn's silver fox. It will be a fine piece of work to search out
the cache, and if it proves to contain Lem's silver fox, recover it
for him. We will be doing a good turn to Lem and at the same time will
lift suspicion from Indian Jake. If we find the cache and there is
nothing in it that should not be there, we will not interfere with it.
Now how shall we go about it to trace it? Let's hear what you chaps
think is the best plan."

"We'll separate and look for the rock they tells about," suggested
David. "There's like to be some signs so we'll know un when we sees
un. If we finds the rock 'twill not be hard to pace off the way they
says in the paper."

"And we'll be lookin' out for other signs," added Peter. "'Tis likely
they've been cuttin' wood or breakin' twigs or makin' a fire."

"The brook ain't froze, and I'm thinkin' now they been walkin' there
and leavin' tracks, if they were going' for water, and 'tis likely
they were gettin' water to boil the kettle," reasoned Seth.

"Suppose," suggested Doctor Joe, "two of you follow up the brook, one
on each side, and the rest of us will spread out on each side of the
two following the brook, and look for the rock and other signs that
will guide us."

"We better make a writin' for each of us just like the writin' in the
can with what it says about how to find the cache if we finds the
rock," suggested Andy. "I for one'll never be rememberin' all of un
without a writin' to look at whatever."

"That's true, Andy," agreed Doctor Joe, "and none of us would."

"Andy always thinks of things like that!" exclaimed David admiringly.

"Get the paper from the can and bring it up to camp," directed Doctor
Joe. "We'll make several copies of the directions. I have paper and
pencil there in the tent."

David lifted the flat stone from the top of the cairn, and removing
the paper he and the others followed Doctor Joe to his tent, where
Doctor Joe made nine copies of the explicit directions, one for
himself and one for each of the lads.

"You had better return this now to the can," said Doctor Joe, handing
the paper back to David, "for if it should prove after all that we
have been mistaken, and that the cache does not contain Lem's silver
fox or other stolen property, it would be wrong, and we would not
wish, to interfere with the man for whom this paper was left here
finding the cache."

"'Twould be fair wicked to do that," agreed David. "I'll put un back."

When the paper had again been returned to its hiding-place Doctor Joe
detailed the boys to their different positions. David and Peter were
to follow the brook, David on the left side and Peter on the right
side as they ascended. Seth Muggs, Obadiah Button, Andy and Jamie were
to spread out at intervals on the left from David, and Lige Sparks,
Micah Dunk and Doctor Joe on the right side of the brook from Peter.
All were to ascend through the woods at the same time, keeping a sharp
look-out to right and to left for any unusual rock or other possible
signs that might lead to a clue.

"Now we had better keep close enough together to keep in sight the man
nearest us on the side toward the brook," directed Doctor Joe. "If we
spread farther apart than that we shall be too far apart to see any
rock that may be between us."

"Aye, and we'll keep lookin' both ways," said Andy. "That way we can't
miss un."

"It's now," Doctor Joe consulted his watch, "one-thirty o'clock. It's
cloudy and it will be dark by half-past four. I'll call to Micah at
half-past three and he will pass the word along to the next man and he
to the next and so on until all have been notified. Then we will
immediately come together and return to camp, that is, of course, if
we have not already found the cache. If before that time anyone finds
what he thinks may be the rock he will pass the word to his neighbour,
and we'll close in and make our search together. If it begins to snow,
and the snow is too thick for us to see our next neighbour, we'll
close in, for in that case we would miss the rock anyway. Do you all
understand?"

Every one understood, as the chorus of "Yes, sir," testified.

"Jamie," said Doctor Joe, "you're the youngest one, and you haven't
had much experience tramping through the woods. If you get tired, or
find it hard, just come over to the brook and follow it down to camp.
If you get there ahead of us you might start a fire in our tent stove
and put the kettle over."

"I've got plenty o' grit, sir," Jamie boasted. "I can stand un."

"I think you can," agreed Doctor Joe, "but your legs are short. If you
get tired don't keep going. Perhaps you had better take the outside
place, and if you do get tired and fall out it won't break the line."

Full of eagerness and excitement, the boys took their positions. On
the left bank of the brook was David, next him to the left Obadiah
Button, then Andy, beyond him Seth Muggs, and finally Jamie. This
placed Jamie on the extreme left flank, in accordance with Doctor
Joe's suggestion, and the farthest from David and the brook.

On the right bank of the brook were Peter Sparks, Doctor Joe, Lige
Sparks and Micah Dunk in the order named, with Micah on the extreme
right flank.

It was a great and thrilling adventure for all the boys, but
particularly for Jamie. There was a mystery to be solved, and in the
attempt to solve it there was not merely curiosity but a worthy object
in view. If the cache proved to contain Lem Horn's silver fox skin Lem
and his whole family would be made happy.

Jamie, in his unwavering loyalty, was anxious to lift from Indian Jake
all suspicion of the crime. At present every one in the Bay, save only
the Angus boys, believed Indian Jake guilty of it. Even Doctor Joe was
not satisfied of his innocence, and, indeed, everything pointed to
Indian Jake's guilt. Doctor Joe believed that the Angus boys were
prejudiced in their loyalty to Indian Jake because of the fact that he
had done them kindnesses.

Jamie was sure that if they found this cache there would be proof that
he and David and Andy were right and everybody else wrong. Not only
did this feature of the adventure appeal to him, but also the fact
that he was for the first time in his life trailing in the wilderness
and taking part in an undertaking that seemed to him one of vast
importance.

Jamie had never slept in a tent. His only acquaintance with the great
wilderness had been confined to the woods surrounding The Jug, and
always when in company with David or Andy or his father or Doctor Joe.
Now he was determined to do as well as any of them, and, no matter how
tired he became, to stick to the trail until Doctor Joe gave the
signal to return to camp.

As they ascended the slope Jamie kept a sharp look-out to right and
left. Now and again Seth Muggs on his right was hidden by a clump of
thick spruce trees or would disappear behind a wooded rise, presently
to appear again through the trees.

Jamie was happy. He was keeping pace with the others without the least
difficulty. Doctor Joe had hinted that his short legs might not permit
him to do this. He would prove that he was as able as Seth Muggs or
any of them!

Nothing happened for nearly an hour, and Jamie was beginning to think
that the search was to end in disappointment, when suddenly his heart
gave a leap of joy. Far to the left and just visible through the trees
rose the outlines of a great grey rock.

"That's the rock!" exclaimed Jamie. "That's sure he! I'll look at un
for signs, and then if there's any signs to be seen about un I'll call
Seth!"

Jamie ran through the trees and brush to the rock, which proved,
indeed, to be a landmark. It stood alone, and was twice as high as
Jamie's head.

Here he was treated to another thrill. On the west side of the rock
was the charred wood of a recent camp fire. A tent had been pitched
near at hand, as was evidenced by the still unwithered boughs that had
formed a bed, and discarded tent pegs, and there were many axe
cuttings.

"'Twere white men and not Injuns that camped here," reasoned Jamie.
"All the Injun fires I ever heard tell about were made smaller than
this un. And these folk were pilin' up stones on the side. No Injuns
or Bay folk does that, whatever!"

Jamie continued to investigate.

"'Twere not Bay folk did the axe cuttin' either," he decided. "All the
Bay folk and Injuns uses small axes when they travels, and this
cuttin' were done with big uns!"

Looking about the rock he found other evidences that the campers had
been strangers to the country. There was a piece of a Halifax
newspaper, an empty bottle, and a small tin can containing matches.
The box of matches he put into his pocket. They had been lost or
overlooked, and no hunter of the Bay or Indian would ever have been
guilty of such carelessness. Of this Jamie had no question.

"'Tis sure the rock the writin' tells about," he commented.

Jamie looked a little farther, and then suddenly realizing that he
should not wait too long before calling, shouted lustily:

"Seth, I finds un! Seth! Seth! I finds the rock!"

He waited a moment for Seth's answering call, but there was no
response. A much longer time had elapsed during Jamie's examination of
the rock and the surroundings than he realized, and in the meantime
Seth and the others had passed on, and Seth was now in a deeply
wooded gully where Jamie's shouts failed to reach him.

"Seth! Seth! I finds un! I finds the place!" he shouted again, but
still there was no response from Seth.

"I'm thinkin' now Seth has gone too far to hear," said Jamie to
himself. "'Twould be fine to find Lem's silver all alone and take un
back to camp. I'll just do what the writin' says. I'll pace up the
places. I can do un all by myself, and 'twill be a fine surprise to un
all to take the silver back to camp."

Jamie had no doubt that the mysterious cache contained the stolen fox
pelt. No thought of disappointment in this or of danger to himself
entered his head. His whole mind was centred upon one point. He would
be the hero of the Bay if, quite alone, he succeeded in recovering
Lem's property and at the same time in clearing Indian Jake of
suspicion.

Without further delay he drew from his pocket the carefully folded
copy of directions that Doctor Joe had given him and sat down to study
it.




CHAPTER XIII

SURPRISED AND CAPTURED


"Twenty paces to a hackmatack tree, north," read Jamie. He drew from
his pocket the little compass Doctor Joe had given him, and took the
direction.

"That's the way she goes, the way the needle points," he said to
himself. "I'll pace un off. North is the way she goes first."

But an obstacle presented itself. The northern face of the rock was
irregular, and from end to end fully thirty feet in length. From what
point of the rock was the northerly line to begin? Where should he
begin to pace? Finally he selected a middle point as the most
probable.

"'Twill be from here," he decided. "They'd never be startin' the line
from anywheres but the middle."

Holding the compass in his hand that he might make no mistake, and
trembling with the excitement of one about to make a great discovery,
he paced to the northward, stretching his short legs to the longest
possible stride, until he counted twenty paces. It brought him not to
a hackmatack tree, but to the middle of several spruce trees. He
returned to the rock and tried again. This time he was led to a tangle
of brush to the left of the spruce trees into which his former effort
had taken him. He was vastly puzzled.

"'Tis something I does wrong," he mused. "Doctor Joe were sayin' the
compass points right, and she is right. 'Tis wonderful strange
though."

He experimented again and discovered that if he did not hold the
compass perfectly level the needle did not swing properly. In his
excitement he had doubtless tipped the compass, and with the needle
thus bound he had been led astray.

He climbed to the top of the rock, and placing his compass in a level
position, permitted the needle to swing to a stationary position. He
extracted a match from the tin box in his pocket and laid it upon the
compass dial exactly parallel with the needle. Lying on his face, he
squinted his eye along the match to a distant tree. Rising, he
observed the tree that he might make no mistake, and returning to the
face of the rock strode twenty of his best paces in the direction of
the tree. Again he was disappointed. There was no hackmatack tree at
the end of his line.

"Maybe he was a big man that does the pacin' and takes longer paces,"
he said to himself. "I'll go a bit farther."

He looked directly ahead, but saw no hackmatack within a reasonable
extension of his twenty paces to account for the longer strides the
original pacer may have taken. Much discouraged, he was about to
return again to the rock when suddenly his eye fell upon a small and
scarcely noticeable hackmatack six paces to the right of his north
line and a little beyond him.

"That must be he, now!" he exclaimed. "'Tis the only hackmatack I sees
hereabouts. 'Tis _sure_ he! I'll pace un back to the rock! If the
tree's nuth'ard from the rock, the rock'll be south'ard from the tree.
I'll try pacin' that way."

With his compass Jamie sighted from the tree to the rock, and to his
satisfaction the rock, lying due south, fell within his line of
sight, but at the extreme easterly end of its northerly face instead
of at the centre, the point from which he had run his original line.
He now paced the distance, which proved to be a little farther than
twenty of Jamie's longest strides, which he accounted for again by
reasoning that a man could take longer steps than he could stretch
with his short legs.

Then for the first time Jamie observed two stones, one on top of the
other, at the foot of the rock and at the very place to which his
compass had directed him. He lifted the stones and an examination
proved that they had not long since been placed in the position in
which he found them. Both had marks of earth upon them on the lower
side, but the stone which was below rested upon the carpet of caribou
moss which covered the ground and prevented it from coming in contact
with the earth. It could not, therefore, have been stained with soil
in the place where Jamie now found it.

"They was put there as a pilot mark! They shows the true mark of the
place to pace from," he soliloquized, replacing them in the position
in which he had found them. "I'll take un as a pilot, whatever, and
see how she comes out on the next track."

He returned to the little hackmatack tree and again consulted the
paper.

"Forty paces west to a round rock," he read, observing, "that won't be
so hard now as findin' the hackmatack tree. 'Twill be easier to see,
whatever."

Methodically he gathered some stones and erected a small pedestal upon
which to rest his compass while he ran his westerly line. Loose stones
of proper size were hard to find. The smaller ones were frozen fast to
the ground, and the larger ones were too heavy for him to move. But
presently he collected a sufficient number of small stones to form a
pedestal a foot and a half high.

Upon the top of this he levelled his compass, and turned it until the
needle, swinging freely, rested upon the north point on the dial.
Then, as before, he placed a match upon the face of the compass to
form a line from the "E" to the "W" on the dial. Crouching down upon
the ground Jamie sighted, as before, to a distant tree, but as he did
so be became suddenly aware that the light was fading. He had been
much longer than he had realized, consuming a great deal of time in
examining the signs around the big rock and in taking his distances
from the rock.

"This line is sure right the first time," he said. "'Twill not take me
much longer, and I finds the round rock now. If I finds un I'll be
sure I'm goin' the right way, and I'll be right handy to the cache."

Thirty-nine of Jamie's paces brought him to the tree upon which he had
taken sight, and looking a little way beyond he saw, to his great joy,
a round rock.

Jamie was trembling with excitement as he ran eagerly to the rock.
This was the second direction laid down upon the paper! There could be
no doubt that he was right! Everything answered the description! He
would surely find the cache now! What a surprise it would be to Doctor
Joe and the boys if he came walking into camp triumphantly bearing Lem
Horn's silver fox skin.

"Sixty paces south," he next read from his directions.

He placed his compass upon the top of the round rock, which rose
perhaps three feet above the ground, and repeated his former method,
again sighting to a convenient tree. Twilight was perceptibly
thickening. At this season darkness falls early in Labrador, and now,
because of a heavily clouded sky, it was following twilight quickly.

"I'll keep at un till I finds the cache. I'll find un before I goes
back to camp whatever," he determined. "'Twill be easy enough gettin'
to camp even if 'tis dark before I gets there. The brook's handy by,
and I'll just go to un and follow un down to camp. I hope they'll not
be worryin' about me, but if they does 'twill not be for long. I'll
soon be there now."

The distance from the round rock to the tree upon which he had sighted
proved to be but thirty of his short paces. Here he was compelled to
pile stones again upon which to build a resting-place for his compass
before taking another sight. Small stones such as he could lift were
not easily found, and when at length he was prepared to take the sight
the gloom had grown so thick that he had difficulty in locating a tree
that he judged was sufficiently far away to cover the remaining
distance. Thirty more paces, however, brought him to the tree, and to
his unbounded joy a lone white birch stood just beyond.

Within three paces of the birch the mysterious cache was hidden.
Here, however, the directions failed to be sufficiently explicit.
Either through oversight or purposely the bearings from the birch were
omitted.

Jamie paced first to one tree and then to another; any of several
trees might be the correct one. They were all thickly branched spruce
trees capable of concealing the coveted cache. Jamie was puzzled, and
every moment it was growing darker. He looked up into the branches of
one and then another, hoping to see a bag suspended from a limb, but
if a bag were there it blended so completely with the foliage that
even its outlines were not revealed.

"I'll have to climb un all," said Jamie finally, "and I'll have to be
spry about un too or 'twill be fair dark before I gets to climb the
last of un."

For his first effort he chose a tree three paces beyond the birch and
in a line with the rock. He had no difficulty in shinning up the trunk
until he reached a lower limb, and then he quite easily drew himself
up.

Climbing through the thick screen of branches he looked eagerly for
the coveted hidden mystery, not stopping until he was well into the
tree top and had made quite certain that no cache was hidden there.
Then, as he looked up toward the sky, he felt a snowflake on his face.

"Snowin'!" he exclaimed. "I'll have to be hurryin' now. If it snows
hard Doctor Joe sure will be gettin' worried about me."

At that moment Jamie heard the breaking of a twig. He paused and
listened. Presently he heard footsteps, and a moment later a man's
voice. Through the gathering darkness appeared the figures of two men,
and even at that distance Jamie knew they were not Bay folk. They
travelled less silently, and the tread of heavy boots is quite unlike
that of moccasined feet.

Jamie crouched close to the tree trunk. He scarcely breathed. The
approaching figures came directly toward the white birch.

"It's lucky we saw them fellers first," said a gruff voice. "They'd
sure suspicioned somethin' if they'd got a glim on us. They never seen
us comin' over, and they'll never find our boat where we hid her."

"If they found that there writin' you went and left in the tin can you
were tellin' about, they've like as not follered the directions you
give and found the swag," growled the other. "That won't be very
lucky for us."

"They'd never find her," assured the first speaker. "They'd have to
find the rock first, and she's a good two mile from shore. They'd
never find her in a dog's age. Here we be. Here's the white birch."

"Well, where's the tree you went and hid the stuff in?"

"Here she is." The man indicated a tree next to that in which Jamie
was perched. "Here, take my leg and gimme a boost. I'll go up and get
it."

Jamie scarcely dared breathe. He could see one of the men make a
stirrup of his hands, and the other man step into it and swing into
the tree. Up he climbed to a point directly opposite Jamie, and so
near Jamie could hear him breathe.

"Got her, Bill?" asked the man below.

"You bet I got her! She's here all right, just like I said she'd be,"
answered the man in the tree.

Jamie's heart sank. After all his hopes and efforts he became suddenly
aware that he could not return to camp triumphantly bearing Lem Horn's
silver fox pelt as he had pictured himself doing. Lem would never get
the pelt again. Every one in the Bay would go on believing that Indian
Jake had shot Lem and stolen the pelt. And he had been so near setting
all this right!

It never entered his head that the cache could contain anything else
than the pelt. Because he wished Indian Jake to be innocent of the
crime, he had come to believe that he _was_ innocent, even though
Indian Jake himself had not denied having the stolen property in his
possession, and everybody, save only himself and David and Andy,
believed Indian Jake had it.

"Here she be safe and sound and as good as ever," said the man as he
dropped from the lower limb of the tree to the ground. "Let's open her
up and have a drink, Hank."

"I'll go you, Bill. My throat feels as long as a camel's and as dry as
a snake's back."

Jamie could see the man called Bill stooping over the small bag to
untie it, and presently draw forth a bottle.

"Here she be, and the other three bottles too," said Bill. "You open
her up, Hank, while I see if the roll is there and the other stuff."

Bill ran his arm in the bag.

"Yes, it's all right," he assured. "I guess the Captain didn't miss
the money before the ship sailed, and there ain't any way of his
gettin' word in to the boss about it now before next spring. We're
safe enough to take it back and make our divvy. There won't be any
search made for it now."

"Naw, we're safe enough now." Hank tipped the bottle to his lips, and
handed it to Bill. "The boss ain't missed his liquor neither, and
there won't be any to miss pretty soon the way you're pulin' at it."

"I don't know's I took any more'n you did," said Bill petulantly,
corking the bottle and returning it to the bag. "It was a good move to
play safe anyhow and hide the swag until we made sure the boss
wouldn't go searching through our stuff for it. I don't know's he'd
suspicion us any more'n the rest of the crew, but he'd search
everybody's stuff if the Captain had give him a tip."

"You bet he would!" agreed Hank. "We just played in luck right
through. They won't blame us for that other job, will they? They ain't
likely to go makin' a search for that, be they?"

"Naw!" said Bill. "That other feller, whatever his name is, has got
'em on his trail for that. We ain't in it. They'll never suspicion us
for that. We made a slick job of that."

"Well, let's beat it back," said Hank. "It's snowin' and it's goin' to
snow hard. The sooner we gets back to camp the better we'll be off."

Bill swung the bag over his shoulder, when suddenly he stopped and
exclaimed:

"What's that?"

Jimmy had sneezed, and again he sneezed.

"Some sneak in that there tree!" and Bill with an oath dropped his bag
and seized his rifle, which he had leaned against the tree in which
Jimmy was perched. "I'll put a bullet up there! That'll settle that
feller, whoever he is!"




CHAPTER XIV

THE TWO DESPERADOS


"Don't shoot, sir! It's just me!" Jamie piped in terror from the tree.

"It's only a kid!" Bill swore an oath of disgust and lowered his
rifle. "You git down out'n that tree! Git down quicker'n lightnin',
too!"

"I'm comin', sir!" came Jamie's frightened voice from the tree-top.

Jamie lost no time in descending from his perch and in a moment stood
trembling before his captors. It was quite dark now and snowing hard,
and to the frightened little lad the two big lumbermen loomed up like
giants.

"What you doin' here?" demanded Bill with an oath as he seized Jamie's
arm with a grip that made the lad wince.

"I were--I were huntin' for the cache," confessed Jamie.

"Goin' to steal our cache, was ye? Well, we'll teach you to leave
other folkses things be!" The man gave Jamie a savage shake. "Tryin'
to steal our cache, eh? Who set you on to it? That's what I want to
know! Who set you on to stealin' it, now?"

"I weren't goin' to steal un, sir," chattered Jamie, horrified at the
implication that he was a thief.

"What were you huntin' the cache for, then? Don't lie, you little rat,
or I'll twist your neck off!"

The fellow seemed quite capable of executing the threat literally, as
he again shook Jamie savagely.

"I--aint'--lyin'--about--un, sir!" pleaded Jamie between the shakes.
"I were--just--goin'--to--look--at un, and--if--'tweren't--Lem Horn's
silver fox--I weren't--goin' to touch un!"

"Well, 'tain't Lem Horn's silver fox. It's things of our'n! Do you
hear that? _'Tain't_ Lem Horn's silver, it's our'n what's in that
there bag! You leave our things be! Do you hear what I'm sayin'? You
and your gang keep away from our cache, and don't go foolin' with
anything you don't know anything about! Do you hear?" The man gave
Jamie another shake.

"I--I didn't know! We--we just suspicioned 'twere Lem's silver, and I
were wantin' to take un back to he," explained Jamie.

"You heard what I said? 'Tain't Lem Horn's silver! You hear that,
don't you?"

"Aye, sir, I saw what you was takin' out of the bag, and 'tweren't Lem
Horn's silver. 'Twere something to drink out of a bottle. I sees you
drinkin' it."

"Let the kid go, Bill," laughed Hank, who until now had kept silent.

"We were all thinkin' 'twere Lem's silver. I'll tell un 'twere not the
silver but somethin' else that you takes from the Captain that you
were hidin' in the cache," said Jamie hopefully.

"You goin' to tell that! You heard what we said, and you goin' to blab
it?" the man roared in a rage.

"Aye, sir, I'll just tell the others so's they'll not be thinkin' 'tis
Lem's silver," said Jamie innocently.

"The others? Who's 'the others'?" demanded Bill.

"Doctor Joe and the other scouts," Jamie explained.

"'Doctor Joe and the other scouts,'" quoted the big lumberman. "Who's
this here Doctor Joe? And who's the other scouts?"

"He's Doctor Joe! Everybody knows Doctor Joe!" explained Jamie, quite
astonished that any one should ask who Doctor Joe might be. "The
scouts be the other lads of the Bay, sir."

"Well, this here Doctor Joe, whoever he is, and these here other
scouts, whoever they be, better keep out'n our business and mind their
own," roared the man. "I suppose they're this here bunch what's
campin' down by the brook and been runnin' all over the country
to-day?"

"Aye, sir, we're all campin' down handy to the brook, and we've all
been lookin' for the cache, but I'm the only one that finds the rock,"
admitted Jamie.

"You ain't camped down there now!" The man swore a mighty and strange
oath that made Jamie tremble. "You was camped there, but _now_ you
ain't! You're goin' with us, _you_ be! Hear that?"

"Aw, let the kid go!" broke in Hank, impatiently. "We better be
gettin' a jog on us too. Leave the kid be, and come on. He's just a
kid and he can't kick up any trouble. Leave him be, and let's get out
of here."

"Not me!" The man gave Jamie's arm a painful twist. "I ain't goin' to
leave this here kid to go back and blab to that there Doctor Joe and
the hull country. He heard our talk, and if it gets to the boss you
know what that means. I ain't takin' any chances on him, and I'm half
of this."

"We'll be gettin' in bigger trouble if we takes him along. We'll have
the hull country huntin' us," Hank protested.

"You heard me! I ain't goin' to take chances on his blabbin'! He goes
along, and I'll fix him so's he won't blab and nobody'll get our trail
if they do hunt us. The snow'll hide it," insisted Bill.

"Well, let's get a move on then," said Hank. "The wind's risin' and
it's goin' to kick up a sea. I don't want to be caught out on the Bay
again in a sea like we had that other time. The snow's goin' to be
thick too, and we'll lose our bearings."

"Go on, then. I'll foller with the kid," said Bill, still holding
Jamie's aching arm.

"Better let the kid go," said Hank, swinging a rifle over his left
shoulder and with an axe in his right hand striding away through the
darkness and thickly falling snow.

"Come along you!" and Jamie's captor, gripping Jamie's arm in one hand
and with a rifle in the other, followed in the trail of the man Hank,
dragging Jamie almost too fast for his legs to carry him.

On and on they went through the darkness. Now and again Jamie fell
over stumps or other obstructions, and each time the man, with a
curse, jerked him to his feet.

Snow was falling heavily and the wind was rising. Once they crossed a
frozen marsh where the snow swirled around them in clouds. Then they
were again among the forest trees, forging ahead in silence save for
an occasional curse by the man who held Jamie in his merciless and
relentless grip.




CHAPTER XV

MISSING!


Seth Muggs, intent upon keeping pace with Andy on his right, and not
permitting him to get out of sight, quite neglected to be equally
cautious as to Jamie on his left. In this Seth was in no wise
neglectful. The responsibility in each case, in order to keep the line
from breaking, was to keep the neighbour nearer the brook in view. In
this Jamie alone had failed.

Jamie had, indeed, been out of line for a considerable time before
Seth became aware of the fact. Even then he felt no concern. Doctor
Joe had instructed Jamie to return to camp if he became weary, and
when he was missed had no doubt he had taken advantage of the
suggestion.

Nevertheless, when Doctor Joe passed the word along the line to
reassemble, Seth gave several lusty shouts for Jamie. When, after a
reasonable time, he received no reply, he was satisfied Jamie was snug
in camp with the kettle boiling for tea, and he turned down to join
the others at the brook.

"It's a little later than I thought," said Doctor Joe as they came
together, "but we'll have plenty of time to reach camp before dark.
Now let's count noses."

"Where's Jamie?" asked David. "We're all here but Jamie."

"I'm thinkin' he gets tired and goes back to camp like Doctor Joe were
sayin' for he to do," suggested Seth. "I missed he a while back."

"How long has it been since you saw him last, Seth?" asked Doctor Joe.

"I'm not rightly knowin', but a half-hour whatever," said Seth, "and
I'm thinkin' 'twere a bit longer."

"He has probably gone back to camp, then," agreed Doctor Joe. "It was
a pretty hard tramp for such a little fellow. It is quite natural that
he did not like to admit to you that he could not keep up with us, and
he just slipped quietly away and returned to camp and said nothing
about it. He couldn't well get lost with the brook so near to guide
him."

"Jamie'd never be gettin' lost whatever," asserted Andy. "He's
wonderful good at findin' his way about."

"'Tis goin' to snow, and 'twill be dark early," suggested David, as
the little party turned down the brook to retrace their steps to camp.
"There's a bend in the brook here; let's cut across un and save time.
If she sets in to snow to-night 'tis like to keep un up all day
to-morrow, and we'd better get back as quick as we can to cut plenty
of wood and have un on hand."

"Very well," agreed Doctor Joe. "You go ahead and guide us, David."

"'Twill be fine and cosy just bidin' in camp and studyin' up the
things in the book," said Obadiah as they followed David in a short
cut toward camp. "We'll be havin' a fine time even if it does snow too
hard to go about."

"Yes," agreed Doctor Joe, "we can do that and learn a great many
things about scouting."

Suddenly David held up his hand for silence, and stooping peered
through the trees ahead. The others followed his gaze, and there, not
above fifty yards away and looking curiously at them, stood a caribou.

Only David and Doctor Joe had brought rifles. Almost instantly
David's rifle rang out, and the caribou turned and disappeared.

"I'm sure I hit he!" exclaimed David running in the direction the
caribou had taken. "I couldn't miss he so close, and a fair shot!"

"You hit he!" exclaimed Andy who had dashed ahead. "You hit he, Davy!
Here's the mark of blood!"

A trail of blood left no doubt that the caribou had been hard hit, but
it was followed for nearly a mile before they came upon the prostrate
animal.

"Now we'll have plenty of fresh deer's meat!" burst out Obadiah
enthusiastically. "We'll have meat for supper, and I'm wonderful
hungry for un!"

"Yes," agreed Doctor Joe, "we had better dress it at once. There are
enough of us to carry all the meat back with us to camp, and that will
save making a return trip."

"'Twill be a fine surprise for Jamie when we comes back with deer's
meat," said Andy enthusiastically.

"'Twill make us a bit late and he'll be thinkin' we finds the cache,"
suggested David. "I hopes he won't be comin' up the brook again to
look for us."

"I hardly think he'll do that," said Doctor Joe, "but to be sure he
does not some of you had better go to the brook and leave a sign to
tell him which way we've gone. David and I will skin and dress the
caribou."

"Come along, Seth," Andy volunteered. "We'll be goin' over to make the
sign."

"Come back here as soon as you've done it," directed Doctor Joe.
"We'll need your help in carrying the meat to camp."

"Aye, sir, we'll be comin' right back," agreed Andy as he and Seth
hurried away.

Close to the brook, in a place where it could not fail to be seen, the
lads set a pole at an angle of forty-five degrees, pointing in the
direction in which the caribou had been killed. Against the pole and
about a third of the distance from its lower end an upright stick was
placed. This was an Indian sign familiar to all the hunters and
wilderness folk, indicating that the party had gone in the direction
in which the pole sloped, the upright stick a little way from the butt
further indicating that the distance was not far.

"Jamie'll know what that means, and if he wearies of bidin' alone in
camp and comes to find us he'll not be missin' us now whatever," said
Andy with satisfaction, as he and Seth turned back.

"I'm goin' to blaze the trail over, and he won't be like to miss un,
then," suggested Seth, taking the axe.

When Andy and Seth rejoined the others Doctor Joe and David had nearly
finished skinning the caribou, and in due time they had it ready to
cut up. The head was severed with as little of the neck meat as
possible that there might be no unnecessary waste, for they could not
carry the head with them. Then the tongue was removed, for this was
considered a titbit.

The question of how to carry the meat to camp was finally settled by
making two litters with poles. The carcass was now cut into two nearly
equal parts, one of which was placed on each litter. Doctor Joe took
the forward end of one of the litters, and David the forward end of
the other. With two boys carrying the rear end of each litter, and the
other lads the skin, heart, liver and tongue, and the two rifles and
the axe, they at length set out for camp.

Night was falling and the first flakes of the coming snow-storm were
felt upon their faces when finally the little white tents came in
view.

"There's no light," remarked David, who was in advance. "Jamie's
savin' candles. I'm hopin' now he has the kettle boilin'."

"He'll have un boilin'," assured Andy, who was one of the two boys at
the rear of David's litter. "He'll be proud to have un boilin' and
supper started."

"There's no smoke!" exclaimed David apprehensively as they came
closer. "Jamie, b'y!" he shouted. "Where is you? Come out and see what
we're gettin'!"

But no Jamie came, and there was no answering call. The stretchers
were hastily placed on the ground, and every tent searched for Jamie.

"Jamie's never been comin' back since we leaves!" David declared.
"Whatever has been happenin' to he?"

"I can't understand it," said Doctor Joe. "He could not possibly have
been lost. Andy, you and Micah run down and look at the boats and see
if he has been there."

Andy and Micah ran excitedly to the boats to report a few moments
later that there were no indications of Jamie's return.

"David, you and I shall have to go and look for him," said Doctor Joe
quietly. "Andy, you and the other lads build a fire outside as a
guide. Get your supper, and don't worry until we return."

"What do you think's been happenin' to Jamie?" asked Andy anxiously.

"We took a short cut and did not follow the brook where it makes a
wide bend," suggested Doctor Joe. "He may be waiting for us along the
brook at that point."

"Oh, I hopes you'll find he there!" said Andy fervently.

"Get your rifle and plenty of cartridges, David," directed Doctor Joe.
"I'll carry mine also. When we get up the trail we'll shoot to let
Jamie know we're looking for him."

Each with a rifle on his shoulder, Doctor Joe in the lead and David
following close behind, the two turned away into the now thickly
falling snow and darkness.




CHAPTER XVI

BOUND AND HELPLESS


"See here," said the man in front, stopping and turning about after
what had seemed hours to the exhausted and bruised Jamie, "I for one
ain't goin' to try to cross the Bay to-night in this here snow. It's
thicker'n mud, and there's a sea runnin' I won't take chances with,
not while I'm sober. We may's well bunk."

"Guess you're right, pardner, we better bunk. But pull farther away to
the west'ard before we put on a fire," agreed Jamie's captor with
evident relief. "That bunch'll be out huntin' this here kid, and they
may run on to us if we camp too close to 'em."

"We're a good two mile from 'em now. They'll never run on to us,"
argued the other.

"Go on a piece farther," insisted the man called Bill, who was
gripping Jamie's arm so hard that it ached.

"Let the kid go! What's the use of draggin' him along? He'll just be
in our way, and we've got troubles enough of our own," suggested the
other.

"He ain't goin' back and have a chance to give us away to that bunch,
not if I knows it. I've about made up my mind to croak him. He knows
too much. Go on and find a place to bunk. I'm follerin'."

"You won't croak anybody while I'm hangin' around! I'm tellin' you
I've got troubles enough on my hands already without chasin' a noose.
I'm goin' to save my neck anyhow, and I ain't goin' to be mixed up in
any croakin'," muttered the one called Hank, as he turned and plunged
forward again through the darkness.

What "croaking" meant Jamie did not in the least know, but he
suspected that it referred to something not in the least pleasant for
himself. He was too tired, however, to think or care a great deal as
he was dragged on, stumbling in the darkness over fallen logs, and
bumping into trees.

It seemed an interminable time to Jamie before the man ahead again
stopped, and said decisively:

"We'll camp here. We've gone far enough, and I ain't goin' another
rod. We're a good five mile from them fellers you're afraid of."

"All right, I'm satisfied. You've got the axe, go ahead and make a
cover," said Bill. "Kid, you come with me and help break branches for
the bed. Don't you loaf neither. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," answered Jamie timidly.

It was a relief to stop walking and to feel the man relax the
relentless grip upon his arm, and Jamie, meekly enough, began breaking
boughs with the man always within striking distance, as though afraid
that he might run away and make his escape, though Jamie was quite too
tired for that.

The man with the axe cut a stiff pole and trimmed it. Then he lopped
off the lower branches of two spruce trees that stood a convenient
distance apart, and laid the pole on a supporting limb of each tree,
about four feet from the ground. This was to form the ridge of a
lean-to shelter. Poles were now cut and formed into a sloping roof by
resting one end upon the ridge pole, the other upon the ground, and
the poles covered with a thick thatch of branches to exclude the snow.

When this was completed a quantity of dry wood was cut, and in front
of the lean-to a fire was lighted.

While the man with the axe was engaged in thatching the roof and
lighting the fire and gathering wood, the other turned his attention
to the preparation of the bed.

"Don't you try to break away, now!" he growled at Jamie. "I'll shoot
you like I would a rat if you do. Just stand there and hand me them
branches, and shake the snow off'n 'em first, too."

Running was the last thing that Jamie contemplated doing, even though
there had been no danger of the man executing his threat. He was so
tired he could scarcely stand upon his feet, and he had eaten nothing
since the hurried meal at midday.

At length the bed was laid, and the men sat down within the shelter of
the lean-to, and Bill ordered:

"Git down here, you kid, and set still too. Don't you try to leave
here. You know what's comin' to you if you do."

As Jamie meekly and thankfully complied, Bill ran his arm into the bag
that had been cached in the tree, and which had been the cause of all
of Jamie's trouble, and drawing forth a bottle removed the cork and
took a long pull from its contents. Making a face as though it did not
taste good, he handed it over to Hank, remarking:

"Have a nip, Hank. It'll warm you up and make you feel good. I don't
like this cruisin' in the dark."

Hank accepted the bottle and after drinking from it returned it to the
bag. Then each drew a pipe and a plug of black tobacco from his
pocket, and cutting some of the tobacco with the knife rolled it
between the palms of his hands, stuffed it into his pipe and lighted
it with a brand from the fire. For several minutes they sat and smoked
in silence.

In the meantime Jamie sat timidly upon the boughs next the man Bill.
As the fire blazed, the chill of the storm and night was driven out,
and a cozy, comfortable warmth filled the lean-to. Jamie's eyes became
heavy, and in spite of his unhappy position he dozed.

"See here," said the man, "you may's well sleep, but I ain't goin' to
take any chances on you. I'm goin' to tie you so's you won't be givin'
us the slip."

"Oh, leave the kid be, Bill! He's all right!" the other man objected.

"I ain't takin' chances," growled Bill. "I'm goin' to have some say
about it, too."

He fumbled in his pocket, and drawing forth some stout twine proceeded
to tie Jamie's hands securely behind his back. Then he tied Jamie's
feet, and gave him a push to the rear.

"Now I guess you'll stay with us all right," he grinned.

"Aw, leave the kid be! What you want to tie him for?" Hank protested.
"He can't get away. Better let him go anyhow."

"You leave me be to do what I wants to do and I'll leave you be to do
what you wants to," growled Bill. "I'm goin' to keep this kid fast.
This is my business."

"I don't know as it's all your business," snapped Hank. "I'm mixed up
in it too, seems to me."

"Well, I caught the kid, and I'm goin' to have my say about what I do
with him," Bill retorted. "I ain't goin' to let him make trouble for
us, not if I knows what I'm about."

Hank made no reply, but puffed silently at his pipe.

Jamie was wide awake again. This man Bill meant some evil, and the
little lad wondered vaguely what it could be that was to be done to
himself, and what his fate was to be. He was vastly uncomfortable,
too, with his hands tied behind his back, though he was glad enough to
be permitted to lie down. He could scarcely keep the tears back, as he
thought of the happy time in camp that had been planned, of the snug
tent where he was to have slept with Doctor Joe, and of his own warm
bed at home, and he wondered whether he would ever see The Jug again.

"The boss'll be sore at us, Hank, if we ain't back to camp to-morrow,"
remarked Bill presently, breaking the silence. "He can be sore though
if he wants to. He can't fire us fellers for bein' away even if he
does get sore and cuss us out. He needs us bad, and he can't get any
more men now. I don't mind his cussin'. Cussin' don't hurt a feller."

"If the wind don't get worse and the snow lets up some so we can make
out our way we better go back though as soon as it's light enough in
the mornin'," answered Hank. "I wish I was out'n this business
anyhow."

"We can get across the Bay even if it does snow some in the mornin',
long's there ain't too much sea," said Bill. "I'm for gettin' away
from here too. We've got the swag all right and nobody'll know about
it, if we don't let this kid loose to blab. It was lucky we caught
this feller before he found it, but he heard too much."

"What you goin' to do with him, Bill?"

"Croak him. I ain't goin' to take chances with him. It ain't my way to
take chances I don't have to take."

"You better not do any croakin', Bill. I won't stand for _that_. I'm
tough, and I've done plenty of tough things in my day, but I never
croaked a little kid like him, and I won't stand for it."

"Don't you go and get soft now. 'Tain't any worse to croak a kid than
a man. You'd croak a man if you had to, and this is a time when we've
got to do it to save ourselves."

"Well, I won't stand for it while I'm sober, and I'm sober now even if
I have had a drink or two." Hank reached for a firebrand with which to
relight his pipe.

"Well, you've got to stand for this. I'm mixed up in it just as much
as you be, and I'm goin' to have some say. I ain't goin' to take
chances on him goin' back to his gang and givin' us away."

"How you goin' to do it?"

"Take him along in the boat and drop him overboard. That's the easiest
way. There ain't much chance of anybody findin' him, and if they do
they'll just think he got drowned some way hisself. Dead folks don't
talk."

"That's somethin' I won't stand for! You can't go droppin' anybody
overboard while I'm in the boat! Not if I know it!"

"What you goin' to do, play the sucker?" Bill turned angrily toward
his companion. "Maybe you'll go and peach!"

"Don't you call me a sucker! Don't you say I'm a peacher!" Hank rose
to his feet and faced Bill menacingly.

For a moment Jamie thought the men were going to fight, but Bill
remained seated and his manner suddenly changed. Jamie thought he
acted as though he were afraid.

"See here, Hank," Bill's voice was modified and conciliatory. "I ain't
callin' you a sucker, and I ain't sayin' you'll peach. What's the use
of us fellers fightin' about it? We're in this together and we're
pardners. We've got to hang together. What's the use of us fallin'
out?"

"I'm willin' to hang together but I won't be called a sucker or
peacher by anybody, and I ain't goin' to stand for any croakin'
neither while I've got a gun! Hear me?"

"What we goin' to do about this here kid then? We can't let him go.
He'll up and run back and blab. He's heard too much about our
business. We don't want to go huntin' trouble, do we? Well, we'll be
huntin' trouble if we let him go. He knows too much and he knows all
about who we be too."

"What does he know, now? He don't know anything except what you've
gone and blabbed yourself. We just caught him tryin' to swipe our
cache. The stuff is our'n. 'Tain't his'n. Our stuff is our'n, ain't
it? What can he blab about? That's what I want to know!"

"He'll go and tell folks we've got this here swag from the ship, and
it'll go to the boss. That's what he knows, and that's what he'll
blab."

"Well, what we've got is our'n. He can't prove we've got that there
swag, and we'll hide it where the boss can't find it. He hain't seen
any swag around, has he? He can't say he has neither, and he won't. He
just thought maybe we had that there fox skin. What's that got to do
with us? We don't care what he thinks, and what he thinks won't hurt
us as I knows of. What we've got and what we ain't got don't make any
difference to these fellers. What they don't know won't hurt 'em. It
ain't theirs, and nobody better go meddlin' in what I has and does.
Let that there kid go now, Bill, and get him off'n our hands."

"You just leave him to me, Hank. I ain't goin' to let him go and blab,
I say, and get both of us in a hole. I've got _some_ say, hain't I,
Hank?"

"Well, don't do any croakin' when I'm around to see, that's all I've
got to say. He's your'n to do the way you want to with. I won't have
any finger in it. It's your job, it ain't mine."

"Well, I'll do the croakin' some other way. You needn't have anything
to do about it if you're afraid. I'll do it all by myself."

"Afraid or no afraid I ain't goin' to be mixed up in any croakin', and
that ends it as far as I go."

Hank knocked the ashes from his pipe, refilled it from the black
plug, and lifting a red hot coal from the fire placed it upon the
bowl, and puffed for a moment. When the tobacco was glowing to his
satisfaction, he flicked the coal back into the fire, and sat silently
smoking.

Jamie, lying quiet, had listened to the conversation of the two men.
He was wide awake now. He did not understand the significance of
"croaking," but the word had an ominous sound. It referred to
something the man called Bill wished to do to him and something to
which the man called Hank objected. He understood, however, the threat
to throw him into the Bay. The fellow Bill wished to do this while
Hank was determined to prevent it.

Instinctively Jamie felt that Hank was only defending him in order to
protect himself. He had no personal interest in him, but did not
propose to be involved in any trouble that might arise through some
action that Bill wished to take. He was glad when, finally, it
appeared settled that he was not to be thrown into the sea.

Bill arose and replenished the fire, and following Hank's example
refilled and lighted his pipe, then reseated himself.

Neither of the men spoke. Beyond their great hulking figures the fire
gleamed and sent a circle of radiance. Beyond the circle the forest
lay as black as a tomb. The snow fell steadily, and the wind sighed
and moaned ominously through the tree tops.

What were Doctor Joe and the lads doing? Were they searching for him
through the blackness of the night and the storm? If he had only
followed Doctor Joe's instructions and returned to camp in season!
Would these men kill him? Would he ever see the dear old home at The
Jug again?

With these thoughts flashing through his mind Jamie prayed a silent
little prayer:

"Dear Lord, don't let un kill me! Take me back to The Jug again!"

Many times he repeated this to himself. Then there came to him
something Thomas had once said when the mist was clouding his eyes:

"Have plenty o' grit, lad, and a stout heart like a man."

This comforted and strengthened him, and, like the prayer, he repeated
it over and over again to himself as he lay watching the silent men.
For a long time he watched them and the fire beyond, and the falling
snow and the black wall of the forest. Finally tired nature came to
his relief. His eyes closed and he fell into a troubled sleep.




CHAPTER XVII

LOST IN A BLIZZARD


After a time Jamie awoke. The two men were still sitting by the fire
and were again drinking from the bottle. He was uncomfortable in his
cramped position, but dared not move, and he lay very still and
watched the men and the fire and the black wall of the mysterious,
trackless forest beyond. Shadows rose and fell and flitted in and out
of the circle of firelight. Weird and uncanny they seemed, taking
strange forms like dancing spirits. In the darkness outside the
firelight and moving shadows Jamie fancied that terrible ghoulish
forms were stalking stealthily and grinning maliciously at him.

For a long while Jamie lay awake and watched. Again and again the men
drank from the bottle, and when they spoke at intervals their voices
sounded unnatural and thick. Once one of them arose to replenish the
fire, and he moved unsteadily upon his feet, at which the little lad
marvelled, for he was a large, strong man. Presently Jamie's eyes
drooped again, and once more he slept.

When he again awoke dawn was breaking. Snow was falling heavily. The
two men were in a deep sleep. The fire had died down to a bed of
coals, and Jamie was shivering with the cold.

His arms were numb, and his body and limbs ached from the cramped
position in which he lay because of his bound arms and feet. With some
effort he turned over, and this brought him some relief, but not for
long, and presently he rolled back to his original position that he
might see the red coals of the fire.

Jamie tried to move his hands, but his wrists were too firmly tied,
and the effort brought only pain. Then he lay still and studied the
smouldering fire. Behind it lay the remnants of a back log that had
been burned through in the centre. The inner ends of the log, where it
was separated, were, like the coals before it, red and glowing, and he
thought that if he could push them together they would blaze and give
out warmth.

Then, suddenly, an idea flashed into Jamie's brain. Those red ends of
the log would burn the string that bound him, and he could free
himself if he could only reach them and press the string against them.

His movements in turning over had not disturbed his captors. They were
still sleeping profoundly. From the condition of the fire it was
evident they had been sitting by it the greater part of the night and
had replenished it at a late hour, else all the coals would have been
dead.

Hank lay at the opposite end of the lean-to from Jamie, and Bill in
the centre, with their feet toward the fire. Jamie was lying at the
back, his head near Bill's head and his feet toward the end of the
lean-to farthest from Hank.

For several minutes Jamie studied the position of each and the
possibilities of working his way out of the lean-to without awakening
the men. Finally he determined to make an attempt to gain his freedom.

Cautiously and as noiselessly as possible he began to wriggle away,
inch by inch, from Bill, and toward the fire. Several times he fancied
the men moved restlessly in their sleep, but when he looked toward
them they appeared to be still sleeping heavily. On each occasion,
however, he lay still until he became wholly satisfied that he had
been mistaken and that they had not been disturbed.

Little by little he edged away until at length he was well outside the
lean-to. His efforts were painful and slow, but in the course of half
an hour he was near enough to the end of the log to touch it with his
bound feet. His exertions had set his blood in motion and inspired him
with hope of success.

With much care and patience he pushed the stick until he was able to
rest the string, where it crossed between his ankles, upon the glowing
end. Drawing his feet as far apart as possible, with all the strength
he possessed, he was quickly rewarded by feeling a relaxation, and in
a moment his heart leaped with joy. The string was severed.

Squirming around upon his chest, Jamie arose to a kneeling position,
and then stood erect. So far as his legs were concerned he was free.

Jamie's first impulse was to run wildly away, but he restrained
himself. Standing over the men he looked down upon them. Neither had
moved, and to all appearances they were sleeping as soundly as ever.

"I'm thinkin' now I'll try to burn off the string on my hands too," he
decided. "'Twill be easier gettin' on with un free, and I'll travel a
rare lot faster with my arms loose."

Burning the strings from his wrists, however, proved a much more
difficult problem than burning them from his ankles. He sat down with
his back to the hot end of the stick, but discovered that it was no
easy matter to find just the right position between the wrists.
Several efforts resulted only in painful burns on his hands, but he
was not discouraged, and finally was rewarded. The string where it
crossed between his wrists was brought into contact with the sharp
point of the glowing hot stick, and though the reflected heat burned
him cruelly he held the string pressed against the fire until at last
it crumbled away and his hands flew apart.

"She took grit," said he, "but I made out to do un."

With the joy of freedom and the anxiety to escape his tormentors,
Jamie was oblivious to the pain of his burned and blistered wrists. He
could use both hands and feet, and was confident that he would soon
find the camp and his friends.

Jamie ran as fast as his short legs would carry him. The snow was
nearly knee deep, but it was soft and feathery and he scarcely gave it
thought at first. He had no doubt that he knew exactly in which
direction camp lay, and it never entered his head that he might go
wrong or lose his way as he dashed through the woods at the best speed
of which he was capable.

Presently the impediment of the snow compelled him to reduce his gait
to a walk, and for nearly an hour he pushed on in what he supposed was
a straight line, when he came suddenly upon fresh axe cuttings and a
moment later saw through the thickly falling snow a familiar lean-to.
He stopped in consternation and fright, scarcely knowing which way to
turn. He was within fifty feet of the two desperate men from whom he
had so recently fled. In the storm he had made a complete circuit.

The men were still soundly sleeping, and instinctively Jamie backed
away. He had lost a full hour of valuable time. The men might awake at
any moment, discover his absence and trail him and overtake him in the
snow.

These thoughts flashed through Jamie's mind, and in wild panic he
turned and ran until at length exhaustion brought him to a halt.

"They'll sure be cotchin' me," he panted, "and I'm not knowin' the way
in the snow! I'll be goin' right around and comin' back again to the
same place if I don't look out! I can't bide here," he continued in
desperation. "I'll have to go somewheres else or they'll sure cotch
me!"

Bewildered and frightened Jamie looked wildly about him. Then he
bethought himself of the compass in his pocket. Eagerly drawing it
forth he held it in his hand and studied its face.

"The Bay's to the suth'ard, whatever," he calculated. "If the Bay's to
the suth'ard the brook's to the east'ard. I'll be lettin' the compass
pilot me to the east'ard. 'Twill take me the right direction
whatever."

Levelling the compass carefully in his hand so that the needle swung
freely he found the east, and as rapidly as his little legs would
carry him set out again in his effort to escape the two sleeping men
and to find camp and his friends.

At intervals he stopped to consult his compass. Then he would hurry
forward again as fast as ever he could go through the snow, looking
behind him fearfully, half expecting each time to see the men in close
pursuit, and always with the dread that a gruff voice in the rear
would command him to halt, or that a rifle bullet would be sent after
him without warning.

As time passed and there was no indication that he was followed, Jamie
began to feel some degree of security. Because of the storm it was
unlikely that the men would venture upon the Bay. They had kept late
hours drinking at the bottle, and unless they were awakened by the
cold they would in all probability sleep late and therefore not
discover his absence until the thickly falling snow had so far covered
his trail as to preclude the possibility of them following it with
certainty.

With his mind more or less relieved on this point, Jamie suddenly
realized that he was hungry. It was nearing midday. He had eaten
nothing for twenty-four hours, and he had the normal appetite of a
healthy boy. The snow had perceptibly increased in depth since his
escape from the lean-to, and walking was correspondingly hard. He was
so hungry and so weary that at length he could scarcely force one
foot ahead of the other.

The wind was rising, and in crossing an open frozen marsh the snow
drifted before the gale in clouds so dense as to be suffocating. The
storm was attaining the proportions of a blizzard, and when Jamie
again reached the shelter of the forest beyond the marsh he found it
necessary to stop to rest and regain his breath.

"'Twill never do to try to cross another mesh," he decided. "I'm like
to be overcome with un and perish before I finds my way out of un to
the timber. I'll stick to the woods, and if I can't stick to un I'll
have to bide where I is till the snow stops. I wonders now if Doctor
Joe and David is out lookin' for me. I'm not thinkin' they'd bide in
the tent with me lost out here and they not knowin' where I is."

When he was rested a little he arose, took his direction with the
compass, and floundered on through the snow.

"They's sure out somewhere lookin' for me," he thought, "but 'tis
snowin' so hard they never will find me! I'll have to keep goin' till
I finds camp. 'Tis strange now I'm not comin' to the brook, 'tis
wonderful strange. I'm thinkin' though I were crossin' two meshes with
the men in the night, and I've only been crossin' one goin' back
to-day. I'm fearin' I'll never be able to cross un though, when I
comes to the next un."

Presently, as Jamie had thought would be the case, he came to another
marsh. It satisfied him that he was going in the right direction, but
at the same time it lay out before him as a well-nigh impassable
barrier. The wind was driving the snow across it in swirling dense
clouds, and he stood for a little in the shelter of the trees and
viewed it with heavy heart.

"'Tis a bigger mesh than the other," he commented to himself, "but
I'll have to try to cross un. I can't bide here. I'll freeze to death
with no shelter and I has no axe for makin' a shelter. I'm not knowin'
what to do."

For a little while he hesitated, then he plunged out upon the edge of
the marsh. He was nearly swept from his feet, and to recover his
breath he was forced to retreat again to the woods. Three times he
tried to face the storm-swept marsh, but each time was sent staggering
back to shelter. It was a task beyond the strength and endurance of so
young a lad, and utterly exhausted and bitterly disappointed, he sat
down upon the trunk of a fallen tree to rest.

"I never can make un whilst the nasty weather lasts," he acknowledged.
"I'm fair scrammed and I'll have to wait for the wind to ease before I
tries un again."

He could scarce restrain the tears. It was a bitter disappointment. He
was so hungry, and so weary, and wished so hard to reach the safety of
camp and freedom from the still present danger of being recaptured.

"I'll have plenty o' grit and a stout heart like a man," he presently
declared. "I don't mind bein' a bit hungry, and I'll never be givin'
up! I'll never give up whatever! Pop says plenty o' grit'll pull a man
out o' most any fix. I'm in a bad fix now, and I'll have grit and
won't be gettin' scared. 'Twill never do to be gettin' scared
whatever."

Jamie sat quietly upon the log, and presently found himself dozing. He
sprang to his feet, for sleeping under these conditions was dangerous.
He tried to walk about, but was so tired that he again returned to the
log to rest. It was growing colder, and he shivered. The storm was
increasing in fury.

"I'm not knowin' what to do!" he said despairingly. "If I goes on
I'll perish and if I keeps still I'll freeze to death and I'm too
wearied to move about to keep warm. 'Tis likely the storm'll last the
night through whatever, and I'll never be able to stick un out that
long."

Jamie again found himself dozing, and again he got upon his feet.

"I'll have to be doin' somethin'," said he. "I'll keep my grit and try
to think of somethin' to do or I'll perish."

Jamie was right. He was in peril, and grave peril. Even though the
storm-swept marsh had not stood in his way he was quite too weary to
walk farther. He was thrown entirely upon his own resources. His life
depended upon his own initiative, for he was quite beyond help from
others. It was a great unpeopled wilderness in which Jamie was lost,
and he was but a wee lad, and even though Doctor Joe and David were
looking for him there was scarce a chance that they could find him in
the raging storm.




CHAPTER XVIII

A PLACE TO "BIDE"


Dazed and almost hopeless Jamie stood and gazed about him at the thick
falling snow. His body and brain were tired, but some immediate action
was imperative or he would be overcome by his weariness and the cold.

"If I were only bringin' an axe, I could fix a place to bide in and
cut wood for a fire," he said. "If I were only bringin' an axe!"

He thrust his hands deep into his pocket and felt the big, stout
jack-knife that Doctor Joe had given him, and he drew it out.

"Maybe now I can fix un with just this," he said hopefully. "I've got
to have grit and I've got to try my best whatever."

He looked up and there, within two feet of the log upon which he had
been sitting, were two spruce trees about six feet apart.

"Maybe I can fix un right here," he commented, "and maybe I can lay a
fire against the log and if I can get un afire she'll burn a long
while and keep un warm."

With much effort he cut and trimmed a stiff, strong pole. The lower
limbs of the trees were not above four feet from the ground, and upon
these he rested his pole, extending it from tree to tree. This was to
form the ridge pole to support the roof of his lean-to, for he was to
form a shelter similar to that improvised by the two men the evening
before.

Then he cut other poles to form the roof, and resting them upon the
ridge pole and the ground at a convenient angle to make a commodious
space beneath, he covered them with a thick thatch of boughs, which
were easily broken from the overhanging limbs of surrounding trees.
This done he enclosed the ends of his shelter in like manner, and laid
beneath it a floor of boughs.

Jamie surveyed his work with satisfaction and hope. No snow could
reach the cave-like interior; it was as well protected and as
comfortable as ever a lean-to could be made, and a very little fire
would warm it. Though much smaller, it was quite as good a shelter as
that made by the two men, and possessed the added advantage of closed
ends, which would render it much easier to heat. He had occupied more
than two hours in its construction, and it had called for ingenuity
and much hard work.

The opening of the lean-to faced the fallen tree trunk, which lay
before it in such a position that it would serve excellently as a
backlog.

Though he had no axe with which to cut firewood, he soon discovered
upon scouting about that scattered through the forest were many dried
and broken limbs that could be had for the gathering, and in a little
while he had accumulated a sufficient supply to serve for several
hours.

This done he pushed away the snow from before the fallen tree trunk as
best he could. Using as tinder a handful of the long hairy moss that
hung from the inner limbs of the spruce trees, he lighted it with a
match from the tin box salvaged the previous day at the big rock.
Placing the burning moss upon the cleared spot next the log he applied
small sticks and, as they caught fire, larger ones, until presently a
fire was blazing and crackling cheerily in front of his lean-to with
the fallen tree as a backlog to reflect the heat.

Utterly weary Jamie stretched himself upon his bed of boughs, and it
seemed to him that he had never been in a cosier place in all his
life.

"Pop were sayin' right when he says grit will help a man over any
tight place," breathed Jamie contentedly. "If I were givin' up I'd
sure perished before to-morrow mornin', for 'tis growin' wonderful
cold; but I has grit and a stout heart like a man, and I gets a place
to bide and a fine warm fire to heat un."

With the first moments of relaxation, Jamie became aware that his
wrists were exceedingly painful, and upon examination he discovered
that they had been burned much worse than he had realized in his
attempts to sever the string that bound them. Large blisters had been
raised, and one of the blisters had been broken, doubtless while he
was engaged in building his lean-to shelter. The loose skin had been
rubbed off, and the angry red wound left unprotected.

"I'll have to fix un," he declared. "The sore places'll be gettin'
rubbed against things, and be a wonderful lot worse and I leaves un
bide as they is."

In the course of the first aid instruction, Doctor Joe had taught
Jamie, as well as David and Andy, the art of applying bandages, but
now Jamie had no bandages to apply. For a little while he helplessly
contemplated his wrists. But for the fact that they were becoming
exceedingly painful he would have decided to ignore them, for in his
wearied condition it was an effort to do anything.

"I knows how I'll fix un," he said at length. "I'll cut pieces from
the bottom o' my shirt to bind un up with. They'll keep un from
gettin' rubbed whatever, and when I gets back to camp Doctor Joe'll
fix un up right."

This he proceeded to do at once with the aid of his jack-knife, and
presently had two serviceable bandages ready to apply.

"Doctor Joe were sayin' how to keep the air away from burns by usin'
oil or molasses or flour or somethin'," he hesitated. "And he were
sayin' to keep sores from gettin' dirt into un whatever. He says the
sores'll be gettin' inflicted or infested or somethin'--I'm not
rememberin' just what 'twere, but somethin' bad whatever--if they gets
dirt into un. I've been wearin' the shirt three days, and I'm thinkin'
'tis not as clean as Doctor Joe wants the bindin' for sores to be, and
I'll cover the sore place where the blisters were rubbin' off with
fir sap. That'll keep un clean. Pop says 'tis fine for sores."

Crawling out of his nest Jamie found a young balsam fir tree, and with
his sharp jack-knife cut from the bark several of the little sacs in
which sap is secreted. He had often seen Thomas cut them and daub the
contents upon cuts and bruises, and sometimes even have him and the
other boys take the sap as medicine. Returning to the lean-to he
pierced the ends of the sacs with the point of his knife, and
carefully smeared the contents over his burned wrist where the skin
was broken, taking care that all of the exposed flesh was well covered
with the sap. Jamie had, indeed, fallen upon the best antiseptic
dressing that the surrounding woods supplied.

This done to his satisfaction, he bound his wrists with the improvised
bandages, applying them carefully, after the manner in which Doctor
Joe had taught him in his lessons in first aid.

"'Tain't so bad," commented Jamie holding the wrists up and surveying
them with satisfaction. "They feels a wonderful lot easier, whatever.
But I'd never been knowin' how if 'tweren't for Doctor Joe showin'
me."

Jamie stretched himself upon the bed of boughs, and for a time lay
watching the fire and thickly falling snow and listening to the wind
shrieking and howling through the tree tops. Several times he fancied
he heard the report of distant rifle shots, and at these times he
would start up and listen intently and look cautiously out, half
expecting and fearful that he would see the two lumbermen coming to
recapture him.

But no one came to disturb him, and he assured himself at length that
he had heard only the cracking of dead branches in the storm, and that
there had been no rifle shots. Then, at last, his eyes drooped and he
slept.

Hours afterward Jamie awoke. He was shivering with the cold. The fire
had burned out, save the backlog which still glowed. It was night. The
storm had passed and the wind dropped to fitful blasts. The stars were
shining brightly, and the sky was clear save for feathery, fast moving
cloud patches.

Jamie rebuilt the fire, and lay down to await morning. He was so
hungry that he could scarce lie still, but again his eyes drooped and
again he slept.

It was near daybreak when Jamie was startled by some unusual noise,
and sat up with a jerk. He listened intently, and satisfied that
someone was approaching sprang up and looked cautiously out, seized
with panic and ready for flight. In the dim starlight he could plainly
see two men coming toward him over the marsh.




CHAPTER XIX

SEARCHING THE WHITE WILDERNESS


Nearly three hours passed before Doctor Joe and David returned to
camp, disheartened and thoroughly alarmed, to report that they had
found no trace of Jamie. In the thick-falling snow and darkness they
had been forced to relinquish the search until daylight should come to
their assistance.

Andy and the boys were dazed. It could hardly be comprehended or
credited that Jamie was, indeed, lost. They ate their belated supper
in silence, half expecting that he would, after all, come walking in
upon them. Doctor Joe was grave and preoccupied. Several times, now
he, now David, went out into the night to stand and listen in the
storm, but all they heard was the wail of wind in the tree tops.

At last, with heavy hearts, they went to bed, upon Doctor Joe's
advice. Andy asked that he might pass the night in the tent with
Doctor Joe and David, and so it was arranged. Neither Andy nor David,
more worried than they had ever been in all their lives before, felt
in the least like sleep. Doctor Joe did not lie down with them. For a
long while the two lads lay awake and watched him crouching before the
stove smoking his pipe, his face grave and thoughtful. He had spoken
no word of encouragement, and the lads knew that he was troubled
beyond expression.

The wind was rising. In sudden gusts of anger it dashed the snow
against the tent in swirling blasts, and moaned dismally through the
tree tops. The crackling fire in the stove, usually so cheerful, only
served now to increase their sorrow. It offered warmth and comfort and
protection from the night and cold and drifting snow, which Jamie, if
he had not perished, was denied. They could only think of him as
wandering and suffering in the cold and darkness, hungry and
miserable, and they condemned themselves.

When sleep finally carried the lads into unconsciousness, Doctor Joe's
tall figure was still crouching before the stove, and when they awoke
he was already up and had kindled a fresh fire in the stove, though it
was not yet day, and the tent was lighted by the flickering flame of
a candle.

"'Twill be daylight by the time we've finished breakfast," said Doctor
Joe as the lads sat up. "It's snowing harder than ever, but I think we
had better go out as soon as we can see and have a look up the brook.
Jamie may not be so far away. We may find him bivouacked quite close
to camp. The snow is getting deep and we shall not find travelling
easy."

"We'll be lookin' the best we can, whatever," agreed David. "I
couldn't bide in the tent with Jamie gone. I'm wakin' with a wonderful
heavy heart. I'm findin' it hard to believe he's not about camp, and I
were just dreamin' about he bein' lost."

"That's the way I feels too," said Andy. "I wakes feelin' most like
I'd have to cry. Can't I be goin' with you and Davy? I never can bide
here whilst you're away, Doctor Joe."

"Yes, we three will go and we'll take some of the other lads with us,
though we'll have to leave somebody in camp to keep the fire going,"
agreed Doctor Joe. "We'll need warm tents when we come back, if we
bring Jamie with us, and I hope we'll find him none the worse for his
night out."

"'Tisn't like 'twere winter," suggested David hopefully. "'Tisn't so
cold, if he were havin' matches to put on a fire, but I'm doubtin' he
has matches."

"Let us hope he had. Andy, suppose you call the others," suggested
Doctor Joe. "Breakfast is nearly ready."

Andy was already dressed, and hurrying out he presently returned with
the other lads. Breakfast of venison and bread with hot tea was
hurriedly eaten, while they put forth all sorts of theories as to the
cause of Jamie's disappearance and the possibilities of finding him.

"I'm thinkin' now," said David with a more hopeful view as daylight
began to filter through the tent, "that Jamie'll be knowin' how to fix
a shelter, and that we'll be findin' he safe and that he'll be just
losin' his way a bit in the storm. If he has matches he'll sure be
puttin' a fire on."

"I'm doubtin' he has the matches," suggested Andy discouragingly. "He
weren't thinkin' to be away from camp and he weren't takin' any. He
were never on the trails, and he'd sure be forgettin' to take un."

"Let us hope he has them," Doctor Joe encouraged. "If he has matches
I'm sure he'll be safe enough."

"'Twere my fault he were gettin' lost," said Seth. "He'd never been
gettin' lost if I'd only kept he in sight the way you said to do."

"No," objected Doctor Joe, "we'll not say it was anybody's fault."

Presently they were ready. Seth and Micah were detailed to remain in
camp, and the others set forth, David and Doctor Joe carrying their
rifles.

In much the same manner as that adopted in the search for the rock the
previous day, Doctor Joe and the boys spread out on the left, or
westward, side of the brook. Now, however, they were much closer
together, because they could see so short a distance through the snow.
Walking was much harder, and their progress correspondingly slower.

Thus they continued to the farthest point reached before turning back
the previous day, David or Doctor Joe now and again firing shots from
their rifles. Then they turned back, making the return just to the
westward of the trail made by Doctor Joe, who was on the left flank as
they passed up the brook.

"There's a rock! There's a big rock!" shouted David, as the rock
where Jamie had begun his search for the cache loomed high through the
snow.

Every one ran to the rock, and as they gathered by its side, Andy
exclaimed:

"I knows now what Jamie does! He were near enough to see the rock! He
were the last one beyond Seth, and he finds un and he goes huntin' the
cache by himself, and it gets dark and he gets lost when the snow
comes!"

"That sounds reasonable," admitted Doctor Joe. "I shouldn't be the
least surprised if you were right! It's more than probable that's just
what happened! The thing now is to find the direction Jamie probably
took from here, and the snow has covered all trace of him."

"With his trail all covered, there'll be no trackin' he. What'll we do
about un?" asked David. "'Tis hard to think out what way Jamie'd be
like to go from here."

"Let's try goin' the way the paper said the cache was," suggested
Andy. "Maybe Jamie finds un in the tree and climbs the tree and falls
and hurts himself."

"Andy is right," agreed Doctor Joe. "It is quite likely he used his
copy of the directions to find the cache, and that he went in the
direction specified. We'll do the same."

It did not take them long to find the hackmatack tree, and in doing so
they stumbled upon the pile of rocks Jamie had built up for a compass
rest. It was covered with snow, but was high enough to be discernible,
and a careful clearing of the snow discovered the fact that the stones
had been recently piled.

"They may have been piled by the man who made the cache," suggested
Doctor Joe.

"He'd never been doin' that!" objected David. "'Twould make the tree
too easy to find. I'm thinkin' 'twere Jamie piles un."

"What would Jamie be pilin' the stones for now?" asked Lige
sceptically. "He'd not be takin' time to go pilin' up stones that
way."

"He piles un to pilot us when we comes huntin' he," suggested David.

They took the next direction, and in due time discovered the round
rock, the top of which they likewise cleared of snow that they might
make quite certain it was the rock for which they were searching.
Then, in due time, Jamie's second pile of rocks and finally the birch
tree were located.

At the birch tree all clues were lost. Vainly they circled the
surrounding country, firing rifles occasionally until they came to the
edge of the marsh.

"We'd never be findin' he on the mesh, if he gets out there,"
suggested David.

"No," agreed Doctor Joe, "and there's no reason to suppose that he
crossed it to the other side."

"That's what I thinks," said David. "He's somewheres this side of the
mesh. He'd never cross un. He'd be knowin' there's no mesh between
here and camp."

"He'd know 'twere not the way to camp," declared Andy. "Jamie'd never
be forgettin' that he crosses no mesh comin' from camp however turned
about he is. He'd never be so turned about as that."

"We'll search all the country, then, between this marsh and the
brook," suggested Doctor Joe.

They could not know that Jamie, on the opposite side of the marsh, was
at that moment in a snug shelter, and had been listening to their
rifle shots, and supposing them to be the breaking of dead branches in
the wind. Jamie was too small and too inexperienced to face and
weather the storm on the marsh, unassisted, but Doctor Joe or David or
even Andy might have crossed it. How often it happens that an obstacle
that might be surmounted turns us back at the very door of success!

Wearily they trailed back through the woods, and up and down until
darkness finally forced them to return to camp unsuccessful and heavy
hearted. The younger lads were almost too weary to drag their feet
behind them. They had eaten nothing since their early breakfast, but
Seth and Micah, anxiously watching and hoping, had a hot supper of
fried venison and bread and tea ready, and as soon as they had
finished their meal, Doctor Joe directed that they go to bed and rest.

Long before daybreak Doctor Joe was stirring. He lighted the fire, and
when the kettle boiled roused David. Breakfast was ready when Andy
awoke.

"Is you startin' so early?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. "'Tis
wonderful early. We can't see to travel till light with snow fallin'."

"Clear and fine outside!" said Doctor Joe, "I'm not satisfied that
Jamie didn't cross the marsh. It's likely to be a long hard tramp and
David and I are going alone this morning because we can travel faster.
If we don't find Jamie by noon we'll come back after you and the other
lads. You'll be fresh and rested then for the afternoon's search. We
can't give it up till we find Jamie."

"I'd be keepin' up with you," protested Andy.

"If you go we'll have to take some of the others," objected Doctor
Joe. "The snow is deep and they'll not be able to travel as fast as we
shall. Let us go alone and if we need you we'll come for you."

And so it was arranged.

Presently David and Doctor Joe set forth in the frosty starlit
morning. They turned their steps toward the marsh, and were near its
eastern border when David stopped and sniffed the air.

"I smell smoke!" he exclaimed eagerly.

"Are you sure?" asked Doctor Joe, also sniffing. "I don't smell it."

"There's a smell o' smoke!" insisted David. "The wind's from the
west'ard, and the smoke comes from over the mesh. There's a fire
somewheres over there."

"Your nose is keener than mine," said Doctor Joe hopefully. "Go
ahead, Davy. We'll see if you really smell smoke."

David led the way out upon the marsh, and they had gone but a short
distance when Doctor Joe was quite sure that he, also, smelled smoke.
David hurried on with Doctor Joe at his heels.

"There's somebody movin'!" exclaimed David presently. "See un? See un?
'Tis sure Jamie!"

Then he ran and Doctor Joe ran, and thus they came upon the frightened
Jamie, standing uncertainly before his lean-to.




CHAPTER XX

"WOLVES!" YELLED ANDY


"Jamie! Jamie! We've been lookin' and lookin' for you!" shouted David,
quite overcome with excitement and relief.

"I'm so glad 'tis you!" exclaimed Jamie, tears springing to his eyes
as he recognized Doctor Joe and David. "I was scared!"

"Safe and sound as ever you could be, and all of us thinking you were
lost under a snow-drift!" Doctor Joe in vast good humour slapped Jamie
on the shoulder. "You gritty little rascal! I'll never worry about you
again! Here you are as able to take care of yourself as any man on The
Labrador! Come on now back to camp and we'll hear all about your
adventures when you've eaten. Are you hungry?"

"Wonderful hungry!" admitted Jamie.

"Aye, we'll be makin' haste, for Andy and the lads are sore worried,"
said David.

In single file, Doctor Joe and David tramping the trail for Jamie,
they set out for camp. An hour later they crossed the brook, and with
the first glimpse of the tents heard a shout of joy, as Andy and the
other lads discovered them and came running to meet them.

While Jamie satisfied an accumulated appetite he answered no end of
questions. Every one was vastly excited as he related the story of his
experience.

"'Tweren't Lem Horn's silver they has after all," Jamie declared.
"There were nothin' in the cache but the bottles they drinks from, and
they were thinkin' a wonderful lot o' them bottles."

David, in high indignation, was for setting out at once in search of
the two lumbermen, but it was decided that they had doubtless already
returned to the lumber camp.

"They'd probably say that they were only having sport with you, Jamie,
and meant you no harm," said Doctor Joe. "The people over at their
camp would believe them rather than a little Labrador lad. We may as
well waste no time with them. We'll leave them alone, and be thankful
that Jamie is safe and well except for the burned wrists, and they'll
soon be cured."

"And we'll be havin' a fine time campin' here," agreed Jamie. "I wants
to keep clear o' them men whatever."

It was a week later when they broke camp to return to The Jug, and
when the visiting lads said good-bye and set sail to their homes
across the Bay every one declared he had never had so good a time in
all his life.

With the coming of November the boats were hauled out of the water.
The shores were already crusted with ice and the temperature never
rose to the thawing point even in the midday sun. The mighty Frost
King had ascended his throne and was asserting his relentless power.
Presently all the world would be kneeling at his feet.

Buckskin moccasins with heavy blanket duffle socks of wool took the
place of sealskin boots. The dry snow would not again soften to wet
them until spring. The adiky, with its fur-trimmed hood, took the
place of the jacket, soon to be augmented by sealskin netseks or
caribou skin kulutuks.

"The Bay's smokin'," David announced one evening as he came in after
feeding the dogs. "She'll soon freeze now."

In the days that followed the smoke haze hung over the water until,
one morning, the Bay was fast, and the lapping of the waves was not to
be heard again for many months.

The nine sledge dogs were in fine fettle. Handsome, big fellows they
were, but fearsome and treacherous enough. They looked like sleek, fat
wolves, and they were, indeed, but domesticated wolves. Friendly they
seemed, but they were ever ready to take advantage of the helpless and
unwary, and their great white fangs were not above tearing their own
master into shreds should he ever be so careless as to stumble and
fall among them.

The sledge was taken out and overhauled by David. It was fourteen feet
long and two and a half feet wide. Twenty cross-bars formed the top.
Not a nail was used in its construction, for nails would not hold an
hour on rough ice. Everything was bound with sealskin thongs. The
sledge shoes were of iron. These David polished bright with sand, and
then applied a coating of seal oil. Finally the harness and long
sealskin traces were examined, and all was ready.

It was the end of November when the Bay froze, but there was no
certainty that travelling would be safe upon the sea ice beyond Fort
Pelican before the beginning of January. Therefore Doctor Joe confined
his visits to the Bay folk during December, and on his first tour Andy
served as driver with Jamie as passenger.

The dogs were harnessed after the Eskimo fashion. That is to say, "fan
shape," and not, as is customary in Alaska and among white men of the
far northwest, in tandem.

Leading from the komatik (sledge) in front was a single thong of
sealskin with a loop on its end. This was called the "bridle." Each
dog had an individual trace, its end passed through the loop in the
bridle and securely tied. Tinker, the leading dog, was fully
thirty-five feet from the komatik when his trace was stretched to its
full length. He had the longest trace of all. He was trained to
respond to shouted directions, turning to the right when "ouk" was
called, or left for "rudder," the word being repeated several times by
the driver in rapid succession. When it was desired that the dogs
should stop, "ah" was the order, and when they were to go forward
"ooisht," or "oksuit." The other dogs followed Tinker as a pack of
wolves follows the leader. The two dogs directly behind Tinker had
traces of equal length, but somewhat shorter, the pair behind them
still shorter, and so on to the last pair.

A long whip was used to keep them in subjection. This was of braided
walrus hide an inch thick at its butt and tapering to a thin lash. To
the butt was attached a short wooden handle a foot in length, to which
was fastened a loop which was hooked over the protruding end of the
forward cross-bar and the whip permitted to trail upon the ice when
not in use, and at the same time it was always within the driver's
reach.

The boys had practised the manipulation of the whip all their lives.
They could flick a square inch of ice at thirty feet with its tip. It
was capable of a gentle tap, or the force of a pistol shot, at its
wielder's discretion. The whip was the terror of the team, for even at
his distance Tinker, the leader, could be brought to account if he
failed to do his duty or obey commands.

There was little sickness in the Bay, and after patching up a
lumberman at Grampus River, and providing some medicine for old Molly
Budd's rheumatics, Andy and Jamie turned homeward with Doctor Joe.

Near the mouth of Grampus River there was a section of "bad ice" or
ice that was not always safe to be crossed, the result doubtless of
cross currents in the tide. To avoid this bad ice Andy followed the
shore for a considerable distance before turning northward for the
twelve-mile run directly across the Bay to The Jug.

It was a dull, cold, dreary day. The snow ground and squeaked under
the sledge runners. Now and again a confusion of shore ridges rendered
the hauling bad and the dogs lagged.

They were midway between Grampus River and the place where they were
to make the turn northward when Jamie warned:

"Look out, Andy! There's some loose dogs comin' out of the woods!
They'll be fightin' the team!"

Six big beasts, larger even than Thomas Angus's big dogs, were
trotting out of the woods and upon the ice a hundred yards in advance.
The team saw them, and with a howl rushed forward to the attack.

"Wolves!" yelled Andy. "They's wolves!"

The wolves were free. The dogs were bound by harness, and thus
fettered were no match for the big, wild creatures. Andy's rifle was
lashed upon the komatik. It was out of the question to free it in the
moment before the wolves were upon them, and it was to be a
hand-to-hand fight.




CHAPTER XXI

THE ALARM IN THE NIGHT


The clash came instantly. The wolf pack was upon the dogs, and dogs
and wolves were at once a howling, snarling, fighting mass. Great
bared fangs gleamed and snapped. It was a fight to the death, a
primordial fight for the survival of the fittest.

The attack was launched with such indescribable suddenness that Doctor
Joe and Jamie had scarcely time to drop from the komatik before it was
begun. Andy had instinctively seized his whip and began to ply it with
every opening that offered. The first stroke caught a big wolf across
the eyes, and with howls of pain it immediately endeavoured to
extricate itself from the fight. The lash had blinded it.

With feverish haste Doctor Joe and Jamie undid the axe and rifle from
the komatik, and Doctor Joe with the axe and Jamie with the rifle
charged the fighting beasts. A lucky blow from the axe split a wolf's
head. Jamie quickly found that to shoot at a distance he must take the
risk of killing one of the dogs, but watching for an opening, with the
muzzle of the rifle within an inch of a big wolf's body, he fired and
another wolf was disposed of.

In the meantime Andy had been plying the whip with such precision that
the foot of one of the wolves had been torn off and another wolf so
badly lacerated that as it broke temporarily away Jamie dropped it
with the rifle, and then shot the blind wolf which was now roaming
aimlessly about. A stroke from Doctor Joe's axe dispatched the fifth
animal, and the remaining wolf, now at the mercy of the dogs, was
literally torn into shreds.

Hardly five minutes had elapsed from the moment Jamie discovered the
pack trotting out of the woods until the fight was ended. The attack
had been made with such suddenness and such savage fierceness that
Doctor Joe and the boys had scarcely uttered a word.

Now there was the tangle of dogs to be straightened out, and Andy was
compelled to use his whip to drive them from the dead wolves and quiet
them. Hardly one of them had escaped injury from the wolf fangs, and
Dick, a faithful old fellow, was so badly mangled that Andy cut him
loose from the harness to follow the komatik home at his leisure.

[Illustration: IT WAS A FIGHT TO THE DEATH]

"Dick's too much hurt to do any hauling for a month whatever," said
Andy regretfully.

"He won't die, will he?" asked Jamie sympathetically.

"He'll get over un," Andy assured.

"The dogs had grit, now!" Jamie boasted. "There's nary a team in the
Bay could have fought like that!"

"And I noticed you had some grit too," said Doctor Joe. "A wolf's
fangs snapped within an inch of your leg, you young rascal, when you
held the rifle against that fellow you shot."

"I weren't thinkin' of that," said Jamie.

One of the pelts was so badly torn by the dogs as to be valueless. The
remaining carcasses were skinned, and the skins lashed upon the
sledge, and as they turned homeward Andy remarked:

"There's five good skins and they'll bring four dollars apiece
whatever. 'Tweren't a bad hunt when we weren't huntin'."

"You and Jamie can take the money you get for them and start a bank
account," suggested Doctor Joe. "I'll send it to St. John's and put it
in a bank for you, and then you'll have that test completed for both
the second and first class. There's no doubt you've earned it."

"Will you, sir? That's fine now!" exclaimed Andy. "Davy wasn't with
us, and he'll have to set traps to earn his. But he'll get a marten or
two, whatever."

"There's no doubt about David's catching the martens," said Doctor
Joe. "If there's a marten around he'll catch it."

It was dark when they reached The Jug. Margaret and David were quite
excited when they heard the story of the adventure, and mighty pleased
with its ending.

"'Twere a stray pack," said David, "and they were hungry. Pop had a
pack come at he that way once, but they just took one of the dogs and
ran off."

A wonderful Christmas they had at The Jug that year. Doctor Joe had no
end of surprises stowed away in mysterious boxes that he had brought
from New York and deposited in his old cabin at Break Cove. He and
David brought them over with the dogs on Christmas eve, and on
Christmas morning they were opened.

The one disappointment of the day was the failure of Thomas to be with
them. He had suggested at the time he departed for the Seal Lake
trails in the autumn that he might come out of the wilderness for
additional provisions at Christmas time, but it was a long and tedious
journey, and they knew it was one he would hardly undertake unless
pressed by need.

Christmas holiday week was always one of celebration at the Hudson's
Bay Company's Post. At this time trappers and Indians emerged from the
silent wilderness to barter their early catch of furs and to purchase
fresh supplies; and on New Year's eve it was the custom of the men and
women of the Bay to gather at the Post for the final festivities. All
day long sledge load after sledge load of jolly folk appeared to take
part in the great New Year's eve dance, and to enter into the shooting
contests and snowshoe and other races on New Year's day.

Eli and Mark Horn drove their team in at The Jug just at dinner time
on New Year's eve, and Eli invited Margaret to go on with them and
visit Kate Hodge, the daughter of the Post servant.

"We'll be short of lasses at the dance, and we needs un all," said
Eli.

"I'd like wonderful well to go," said Margaret wistfully.

"Go on," urged Doctor Joe. "You'll have a good time and the boys and I
will make out famously here. You get away seldom enough and see too
few people. 'Twill do you good, lass."

"Aye, come on now!" Eli urged. "We'll take you over snug and warm in
our komatik box. Kate'll be wonderful glad to see you, and we'll bring
you back the day after New Year."

"I'll go," Margaret consented, her eyes dancing with pleasure.

"And there'll be no prettier lass there," said Doctor Joe gallantly,
which brought a blush to Margaret's cheek and caused Eli to chuckle.

Margaret hastened her toilet and was ready in a jiffy. She was all
a-flutter with excitement when Eli tucked her in a box rigged on the
rear of the komatik, and wrapped her snugly with caribou skins.

"You must have had it in mind to capture Margaret when you left home,
Eli," Doctor Joe suggested with a twinkle in his eye. "Men don't take
travelling boxes when they go alone."

Eli grinned sheepishly as he broke the komatik loose, and the dogs
dashed away.

It was a dull cold day with a leaden sky, and snow was shifting
restlessly over the ice. The wind was in the south-east, and as they
entered the cabin David remarked:

"There'll be snow before to-morrow mornin'."

When they had eaten supper that evening and cleared the table David
stepped out for a look at the weather, and returning reported:

"'Twill be a nasty night. The snow's started and the wind's risin'.
'Tis wonderful frosty, too, for a wind."

"Let's see how cold it is," said Doctor Joe, stepping out to consult
his spirit thermometer. "Thirty-eight below zero. Frosty enough with a
gale, and a gale's rising," he reported. "I'm glad we're all snug
inside."

"Tell us a story," Jamie suggested, as they settled themselves
comfortably by the fire.

"There's dogs comin'!" Andy broke in.

David ran to the door, and a moment later ushered Eli Horn into the
cabin.

"What's the matter, Eli? Has anything happened?" asked Doctor Joe,
immediately concerned for Margaret's safety.

"Margaret's safe," said Eli with suppressed excitement. "There's
murder at the Post!"

Questions brought forth the fact that Eli and Margaret had reached the
Post at about half-past three and found the people in confusion. Three
lumbermen from Grampus River had come there. There had been a dispute
among them and one of them was stabbed. The other two had immediately
departed, presumably to return to the lumber camps. Eli did not know
how seriously the man was injured. He had not seen him. It had
occurred shortly before his arrival, and at Margaret's suggestion he
had turned directly about and returned to The Jug to fetch Doctor Joe
to attend the injured man.

"My dogs is fagged," said Eli, "and 'twere slow comin' back."

"David will take me over with his dogs. They're fresh, and will travel
faster," said Doctor Joe.

In ten minutes David was ready with the dogs harnessed, and the two
teams drove away into the darkness and storm.

Andy and Jamie were greatly excited. Tragedies enough happened up and
down the coast when men were drowned or lost in the ice or met with
fatal injuries. But never before in the Bay had one man been cut down
by the hand of another. It was a ghastly thought, and the awfulness of
it was perhaps accentuated by the snow dashing against the window
panes and the wind shrieking around the gables of the cabin.

It was near ten o'clock, long past their usual bedtime, and they were
still talking, for there was matter enough in their brains to banish
sleep, when the door suddenly opened and accompanied by the howl of
the wind a snow-covered figure lurched in upon them.




CHAPTER XXII

THE IMMUTABLE LAW OF GOD


"Peter! 'Tis Peter Sparks!" exclaimed Andy with vast relief to find it
was not a murderous lumberman.

"I'm comin' after Doctor Joe!" gasped Peter, as half frozen he drew
off his snow-caked netsek.

"Me rub your nose, Peter. She's froze, and your cheeks too," broke in
Andy, vigorously rubbing Peter's whitened nose and cheeks.

Peter was silent perforce while Andy manipulated the frosted parts
until circulation and colour were restored.

"Come to the fire now and warm up," directed Andy. "What you wantin'
of Doctor Joe?"

"There's been murder done, or clost to un!" Peter, at last free to
articulate, continued. "Murder at the lumber camp!"

"Murder!" repeated Jamie, awesomely.

"Aye, nigh to murder whatever!" Peter reiterated.

"Doctor Joe's gone to the Post," said Andy. "Eli Horn came for he. Two
of the lumber folk most killed another of un over there. Davy took
Doctor Joe over."

"And two of un most killed the boss at the camp," explained Peter.
"They comes there from the Post about six o'clock and were packin' a
flatsled with things. The boss asks un where they's goin'. They
answers some way that makes he mad, and he hits one of un. Then they
jumps at he and pounds and kicks he till he's like dead, and he don't
come to again. The two men has rifles and they keeps all the lumbermen
back, and off they goes with the flatsled, and they gets away."

"Will the boss die then?" asked Jamie in horror.

"With Doctor Joe gone he'll sure be dyin'," declared Peter
desperately. "His arm is broke and he's broke somewhere inside, and
his face is awful to look at, all pounded and kicked and bleedin'. Me
and Lige goes up to sit a bit and hear un tell their stories, and we
gets there just after the two men gets away. With Doctor Joe's
teachin' we fixes the boss up the best we can, and whilst Lige stays
to help look after he, I comes for Doctor Joe. Pop's to the Post with
the dogs and I has to walk, and facin' the wind 'twere hard. And now
Doctor Joe's gone, the poor man'll sure die!"

"You has wonderful grit to come!" said Jamie admiringly. "'Tis
wonderful frosty and nasty outside."

"'Twere to save the boss's life! 'Tis the scout law," Peter asserted
stoutly. "I'll be goin' to the Post now for Doctor Joe."

"You're nigh done up, Peter. You'll be stayin' here with Jamie. _I'm_
goin' to the Post for Doctor Joe," declared Andy.

"I am most done up," Peter confessed. "But the wind'll be in your back
goin' to the Post. She's just startin' though, and she'll be a
wonderful sight worse than she is now before you gets there. 'Twill be
terrible nasty."

"I'm goin' too," said Jamie.

"You're not goin'," said Andy. "I'm bigger and I can travel faster if
you're not comin'. 'Twould be wrong to leave Peter here alone."

"I'm _goin_!" repeated Jamie stubbornly.

"Won't you be stayin' with me?" pleaded Peter. "I--I'm afeared to stay
here alone with those two men like to come in on me."

"I'll stay," Jamie consented.

A blast of wind shook the cabin.

"I'm fearin' you can't do it, Andy! 'Twill soon be too much for flesh
and blood out on the Bay!" said Peter.

"'Tis in my scout oath to do my best," said Andy, adjusting the hood
of his sealskin netsek. "I'm goin', now."

Andy closed the door behind him. It was pitchy dark. The snow was
driving in blinding clouds, and he stood for a moment to catch his
breath. Then he felt his way down across The Jug and out upon the Bay
ice. Here the full force of the north-east blizzard met him. He
staggered and choked with the first blast, then in a temporary lull
forged ahead.

The storm, as Peter predicted, had not reached its height. Each
smothering blast of fury was stronger and fiercer than the one before
it. Andy took advantage of the lulls, and save when the heavier blasts
came and nearly swept him from his feet, maintained a steady trot. In
the swirl of snow-clouds he could see nothing a foot from his nose.
Once he found himself floundering through pressure ridges formed by
the tide near shore. This he calculated was the tip of a long point
jutting out into the Bay, half-way between The Jug and the Post. Ten
miles of the distance was behind him. He drew farther out upon the
ice.

There were times when Andy had to throw himself prone upon the ice
with his face down and sheltered by his arms to escape suffocation.

"'Tis gettin' wonderful nasty," he said, "but I'll have plenty o'
grit, like Jamie says, and with the Lord's help I'll pull through."

Then he found himself repeating over and over again the prayer:

"Dear Lord, help me through! 'Tis to save a life, and the scout oath!
Dear Lord, help me through!"

The gale had now risen to such terrific proportions that often he was
compelled to crawl upon his hands and knees. With each momentary lull
he would rise and stagger forward. His legs worked at these times
without conscious effort. It was strange his legs should be like that.
They had never felt like that before.

And so, crawling, staggering upright, crawling again, and lying for
minutes at a time with his face in his arms that he might breathe when
he was well-nigh overwhelmed and suffocated, Andy kept on.

He could recall little of the last hours on the ice. It was a
confused sensation of rising and falling, staggering and crawling
until he collided with an obstruction, and recognizing it as the jetty
at the Post, his brain roused to a degree of consciousness, and his
heart leaped with joy.

With much fumbling he succeeded in donning his snow-shoes, which were
slung upon his back, for the twenty yards that lay between the ice and
the buildings was covered with deep drift. Once he stepped upon a dog
that lay huddled and sleeping under the drift. It sprang out with a
snarl and snapped at his legs. A hundred of the savage creatures were
lying about in the snow.

Day comes late in Labrador. It was still pitchy dark outside when
Andy, at eight o'clock in the morning, lurched into the kitchen at the
Post house, and fell sprawling upon the floor. He had been battling
the storm for ten hours.

David and Margaret, Eli and Mark and several others were there. Doctor
Joe was at breakfast in the Factor's quarters, and they called him.
Andy's face was covered with a mass of caked snow and ice. His nose
and cheeks and chin were white and badly frosted, and upon removing
his mittens and moccasins, his hands and feet were found to be in the
same condition.

Mr. MacCreary, the factor, placed a bed at Doctor Joe's disposal, and
when the frost had been removed and circulation had been restored,
Andy was tucked into warm blankets.

"That chap had grit," remarked Mr. MacCreary as he and Doctor Joe left
David and Margaret by the bedside and Andy asleep. "The Angus boys are
all gritty fellows. They're the sort the Company needs."

"Yes," Doctor Joe agreed heartily, "and they never shirk their duty.
Andy is a Boy Scout, and he did what he considered his duty. Now I
must go to the lumber camp and fix up that boss, if he isn't beyond
fixing up."

With the coming of dawn the wind subsided and the snow ceased to fall.
Eli harnessed his dogs when it was light, and with the lumberman who
had been stabbed, but whose injuries were not after all serious, he
and Doctor Joe set out for Grampus River.

At the lumber camp they found Lige Sparks, Obadiah Button and Micah
Dunk installed as volunteer nurses. The man had a broken arm, three
broken ribs, and had suffered internal injuries that demanded prompt
attention.

"If Andy hadn't come for me, and if I'd been delayed much longer in
reaching the camp," said Doctor Joe later, "the man would have died.
Thanks to the boys, his life will be saved."

That day and that night Doctor Joe remained with his patient. On the
following morning it became necessary for him to return to The Jug for
additional dressings and medicines. Eli drove him over.

The sky was clear, and the morning was bitterly cold, with rime
hanging like a filmy veil in the air and glistening like flakes of
silver in the sunshine. Doctor Joe and Eli ran in turns by the side of
the komatik, while the dogs trotted briskly.

"What's that, now?" asked Eli, pointing to a black object far out on
the white field of ice, as they approached The Jug.

"I can't make out," said Doctor Joe after a long scrutiny.

"We'll see," and Eli turned the dogs toward the object.

"It looks like a flatsled," said Doctor Joe as they approached.

"'Tis a flatsled," said Eli. "'Tis the men ran away from the lumber
camp."

A gruesome sight met them as Eli brought the dogs to a stop. Huddled
close and lying by the side of the toboggan, partially covered by
drift, were the stiff-frozen bodies of two men.

"They were lost in the storm," said Eli presently. "They must have
been wanderin' about till the frost got the best of un."

Doctor Joe and Eli lifted the remains to the komatik, attaching the
toboggan to trail behind, and with their ghastly burden they turned in
at The Jug.

Jamie and Peter, vastly concerned for Andy's safety, met them, and
were as vastly relieved when they learned that Andy would be not much
the worse for his experience, and that the lumber boss would live.

The two bodies were carried into the wood-shed and laid side by side
upon the floor, to remain there until evening, when Doctor Joe and Eli
would return them to Grampus River for burial. It was then that Jamie
looked for the first time upon the upturned dead faces, and as he did
so he exclaimed, with horror:

"They's the men! They's the men that had the cache and tied me up!"

"They've been hard men in life and probably done much evil in their
day, but they're past it now and we'll treat their remains gently and
humanly," said Doctor Joe as he covered their faces with a cloth.

Then they undid the flatsled and carried the contents into the cabin,
where the things would be safe from the dogs. There were provisions, a
bag of clothing, two thirty-eight calibre rifles, a quantity of
ammunition and a small bag, which Jamie declared was the bag which had
been cached in the tree.

"I'm goin' to look at un," said Eli. "'Twill do no harm."

Eli undid the bag and drew forth a package which proved to contain a
large roll of bills, amounting to several hundred dollars. Then
followed two marten pelts, a red fox pelt, and the pelt of a beautiful
silver fox. Eli shook the silver fox pelt, and holding it up examined
it critically.

"'Tis Pop's silver!" he exclaimed.

"Are you sure?" asked Doctor Joe.

"'Tis Pop's silver! I'd know un anywheres!" declared Eli positively.

"Then," said Doctor Joe, "it was not Indian Jake but these men who
shot your father and stole the fur."

"And stole our boat!" Jamie broke in excitedly.

"'Twere they stole the silver," Eli admitted, "and the Lord punished
un. I'm wonderful glad my bullet went abroad and didn't hurt Indian
Jake."

"We all thought Indian Jake guilty," said Doctor Joe. "How easy it is
to pass judgment on people, and how often we misjudge them!"

"And knowin' he didn't take un, and after I'd tried to kill he," went
on Eli contritely, "he were wonderful good to me, havin' me bide to
supper and givin' me deer's meat."

"I'm rememberin'," broke in Jamie, "that the men were talkin' o'
somethin' they were takin' from the ship, and fearin' the lumber boss
would find out about un. 'Twere the money they means."

There was a howl of arriving dogs outside, and Jamie rushed to the
door to meet David and Andy and Margaret, and, to his unbounded
delight, Thomas and Indian Jake.

While Thomas was being overwhelmed by Jamie, Indian Jake with a broad
grin extended his hand to Eli.

"How do, Eli?"

"How do, Jake?" Eli took Indian Jake's hand. "I got the silver back,
Jake, and you never took un. I'm wonderful sorry the way I done."

"I've got your ca'tridges here, Eli," grinned Indian Jake. "You can
have un back now."

"But didn't Andy have grit, now!" Jamie's voice rose above the babel.
"Didn't he have grit to go out in the night when 'twas _that_ nasty!
And a stout heart, too, like a man! Andy's a wonderful fine scout,
whatever!"

And so ended the mystery of the shooting and the robbery of Lem Horn,
and so the guilty were discovered and punished, as in some manner and
at some time all wrong-doers are discovered and punished. It is the
immutable law of God.









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