Part 6

They now prepared for the day’s work; but before starting, Bart said that they ought to appoint some place of meeting, in case they got separated. On discussing this point, however, they soon found that they were not in a position to appoint any place of rendezvous, since no one place was known to them except where they were sitting. They did not care about remaining in the vicinity of this place, but wished to ramble on at leisure, and at liberty.

“Sure an there’s no nade,” said Pat; “we can all kape widin hearin of one another, so we can.”

“At any rate,” said Phil, “we can start now, and stay by one another as long as possible. If we come to any place where we have to separate, we can easily make an arrangement to come back to that place.”

This last remark seemed satisfactory, and as it was really the only thing that they could do, they said no more on the subject, but set forth at once.

They walked on for about an hour, and at length emerged from the pine trees, and came to woods where the trees were largely birch and maple. Thus far, their progress had been very easy, as the ground under the pine trees was smooth, and there was very little underbrush. At this place, however, it became more difficult. Small trees and underbrush arose on every side in great profusion, and the ground rose in a succession of gentle eminences, while an occasional swamp intervened. Still, it was not very difficult walking even there, and the chief difference was, that their course became much more circuitous. Through this they wandered for another hour and more, without finding any place that was at all suitable.

At length, to their great joy, they found themselves upon the edge of a small rivulet, which was not more than forty or fifty feet in width. Its bed just here was strewn with pebbles and cobblestones; but farther up and down, they saw hollows and deeper places in the river-bed, which promised some sport. Here they prepared for action. Phil and Pat offered to go down the stream, while Bart and Solomon could go up. Before parting, it was settled that they should come back to this place. On the other side of the stream there were two birch trees growing close together, which would serve as a sufficient landmark to enable them to recognize this place on their return; and with this arrangement the two parties separated, Phil and Pat descending the stream, while Bart and Solomon went up the channel.

Bart and Solomon went up the river-bed for some distance. They found no difficulty in going along, for the stream was shallow, and they could wade it in most places. Occasionally they came to deeper places, which they traversed by going round them. At length they reached a place that looked favorable to their designs, and began to try them. A few bites rewarded them, and two or three small trout were soon deposited in their baskets. They now began to enter more into the spirit of the occasion, and continued slowly ascending the stream, stopping sometimes a long while in some particularly good place, till they had exhausted it, and then resuming their tramp. The consequence was, that their baskets soon began to be unpleasantly heavy, and they had to confine themselves more exclusively to one spot, and indulge to a less extent in their wanderings. All this time these two had had no occasion to keep a lookout on each other, for Solomon, with his instinct of fidelity, had no other idea than that of simply following Bart wherever he went.

All this time the sky had maintained the same yellowish hue, and was as much overcast as ever. Here and there they reached places where the view upward was more extensive, and their gaze could command a larger part of the sky. They saw rolling clouds which seemed most unmistakably to be smoke, and these they thought the sure indications of some fire, which, judging from these appearances, was larger than usual. Beyond an occasional glance upward, however, and a stray remark, these appearances excited no particular notice on the part of either of them.

At length it began to grow somewhat late, and they decided to return. Their long march and still longer fishing excursion had greatly fatigued them; and in going back, they found the distance far greater than they had supposed. At length they recognized the landmark; and here they both flung themselves wearily down upon the bank, and waited for the return of the others.

For a long time they waited there. It grew later and later, but there was no sign of either of them. At length they saw some one coming, and as he drew nearer they recognized Pat. He was very much out of breath, and soaking wet from head to foot.

“Where’s Phil?”

Those were the first words that Pat spoke, and he spoke them in hurried, anxious tones.

“Phil!” cried Bart. “Why, don’t you know?”

“Hasn’t he got back yit?” said Pat, with something like a wail.

“No,” said Bart, as a dark feeling of apprehension came to him.

“Och, thin,” cried Pat, “it’s fairly heart-broke I am, so I am; and no one knows what I’ve suffered this blissed day. Sorra one o’ me knows what has become of him. An I’ve been scourin the whole country back’ards an for’ards, an yellin meself hoarse, so that I can’t utther one blissed howl more, so I can’t.”

At these startling words, all Pat’s anxiety and more communicated itself to Bart. He hastily questioned Pat about Phil’s disappearance.

“We wint down,” said Pat, “for iver so far, an we came to one of the foinest holes iver was. We fished there a half hour an more, and thin Phil says, says he, ‘I’ll go, says he, over beyont,’--for there was a moighty big rock jist forninst us. So he wint for to climb the rock, and he says, ‘I’m goin furder down,’ says he. So I thought no more about it, but wint on wid me fishin. It wasn’t for iver so long that I thought of him; but at last I begins to fail anxious, and wondhers to meself what iver have become of him. So I started off. I didn’t climb over the big rock, as he did, but crossed the sthraim and wint down the other side. Well, I couldn’t see a sign of him. I called, an yelled, an howled, an walked iver so far down an back agin; an that same I’ve been doin iver since, till I thought, at last, he might have somehow got back here. An he ain’t here.”

This story caused terrible anxiety. Bart at once started down the stream, and reached a high, rocky bank covered with trees. He stood here and called. It was now too dark to see much. His calls awaked no response. He then returned, full of the most anxious fears, with a faint hope that he might find Phil on his return.

But on his return there was no Phil to be seen.

VIII.

_The Loss of Phil.--Deep Gloom and heavy Grief.--A Night of Terror.--The torrid Atmosphere.----The Smell of Smoke.--The Darkness that might be felt.--Morning brings Relief.--The Search.--The Rock and the Precipice by the River-side.--The Track of Phil.--Following the Trail.--The Trail lost.--Persevering Search.--The End of the Day._

THE loss of Phil produced a terrible effect upon the little party. Pat’s grief was expressed by sighs and groans for some time, until at length his elastic nature rebounded from its depression, and he began to hope for the best. Solomon was deeply distressed, and said not a word; while Bart was also silent, and he tried in vain to conjecture what had been the cause of Phil’s departure. To him it seemed perfectly unaccountable how he could have got lost. There was the stream, and it seemed to be easy enough, even if one had wandered from it, to retrace his steps. From Pat’s story, Phil’s departure from him by that rock was the beginning of misfortunes. At some time after that he must have begun to wander in a wrong direction, and gradually gone farther and farther away till he was lost.

All that night none of them slept. For a time they kept up a series of cries, which awakened no response. Then they built a fire, thinking that the glow would penetrate to a distance beyond where their cries could go. They made the fire on the bank, and kept it up for two or three hours; but at length they could find no more fuel, and allowed it to die out.

While thus watching and using these efforts to make known their situation to the wanderer, their excitement and suspense were too great to allow of any thought of sleep. Eyes and ears were constantly on the stretch, and every sound, however faint, awakened within them the hope that it might be Phil. But the hours passed on, and not a single sign appeared to them as they watched, and listened, and waited.

“I wonder whether he is wandering about in this darkness or not,” said Bart, in an anxious-voice. “But I don’t suppose it is possible for any one to walk in these woods now.”

“Niver a walk,” said Pat; “not he. He’s tin times comfortabler thin we are. He’s jist gathered some moss, an he’s made a comfortable bed for himself over beyont, somewheres under thim trays. Deed an he has. An what’s more, he’s asleep now, sound as a top, so he is; an I wish I wor as sound aslape as he is this blissed momint.”

Bart shook his head mournfully.

“No,” said he, with a sigh, “he won’t have much sleep to-night, poor old Phil; he’s got too much to think of. If he had some one with him, he’d feel all right; but it’s a terrible thing to be all alone this way. And it’s a miserable night; so horribly dark; so hot. I can scarcely breathe. I never knew such a night.”

“Thrue for you,” said Pat. “It’s fairly suffocated I am. But at any rate, that makes no differ to Phil. Sure its betther for him to be too warrum thin too cowld, so it is.”

“I can’t understand it,” said Bart, after a pause. “I don’t see why he should be lost. I wonder whether--but that’s nonsense.”

“What’s that?”

“I wonder whether Sam could have been following us,” said Bart, half shuddering at the frightful thought that had occurred.

“Sam? What, the Injin?”

“Yes.”

“An what’d he be a follerin of us for?”

“O, I don’t know. But you remember how he looked last night. He looked like a demon. He certainly tried to kill us.”

“Sure but he was dead dhrunk an mad intoirely, so he was.”

“But his mad fit may have lasted till to-day; and he may have been sneaking after us through the woods, and watching for a chance to do some mischief. And so--”

Bart hesitated.

Pat was silent for a few moments.

“O, sure,” said he at last, “what are ye givin way for to sich mad deludherin notions? What’d he be wantin of a boy like Phil?”

“He might have vowed vengeance on us.”

“Yingince is it? By the powers, thin, if it’s vingince he wanted, it ud be Solomon that he’d track, not Phil, that niver so much as spoke one word to him, good or bad, all the time he was with us. And as for vingince, sure my iday is, that the Injin’d give up all the vingince that ivir wor for a glass o’ whiskey, so he wud.”

Bart made no reply. The subject was too terrible to be discussed. He tried to dismiss the thought from his mind. But the idea, having once suggested itself, was not to be got rid of so easily. Do what he could, it came back to him over and over again, taking possession of his mind more and more strongly.

A terrible thought it indeed was that had thus come to him--the idea of that demoniac being who had sprung at them on the previous night, and had only been repelled by what seemed almost a miracle, being still animated by furious hate and a thirst for vengeance,--the idea of this implacable savage, thirsting for their blood, following stealthily on their trail all that day, maintaining his pursuit with that inexhaustible patience and tenacity of purpose which a bloodthirsty savage alone can show when on the search for vengeance. Had he indeed done this? Had this been the secret history of that day? Was this blood-hound indeed on their track? Could it have been possible that he had devoted them one by one to destruction, and had bided his time, and had made Phil his first victim the moment he wandered away from the others? It was a horrible, a sickening thought.

Now, Bart’s mind was full of stories of Indian warfare and Indian vengeance, accumulated during a course of reading in Cooper’s Leatherstocking series, and kindred works; and so it is no wonder that this idea came to him. Besides, he had yet fresh and vivid in his mind the assault of that drunken fiend the night before. All these things combined to fix this fearful idea in his mind. As the hours passed on it became more deeply seated, until at length he was in an indescribable state of anxiety and alarm.

Thus the hours of that night passed away--a night even worse than the preceding one; for then the terror had come and gone; but now it hung over them all the time. In addition to this, the night itself was most depressing. It was intensely dark. After the fire had died out, it was impossible to see anything whatever--not even the hand before the face. The deepest shadows surrounded them on all sides, and wherever they looked their eyes encountered nothing but the blackness of darkness. Besides this, it was exceedingly hot and sultry, the air having a certain indescribable oppressiveness which made them sometimes fairly gasp for breath. The only relief that they were able to gain was by making frequent applications to the water of the river, sometimes dashing it over their faces, at other times dipping in their heads, or feet. This sultriness oppressed them all in an equal degree, and united with the intense darkness to throw them into a state of bewilderment and perplexity. Taken in connection with Phil’s disappearance and the terrible event of the preceding night, it produced such an effect upon the mind of Bart, that all the fears which were suggested by his vivid fancy became more formidable and irresistible. Solomon said nothing at all, but appeared to be quite overwhelmed. Pat alone struggled against the evil influences of the time, and endeavored most energetically to put the best appearance on things, and to rouse Bart from the deep gloom into which he had fallen. So the night passed; and it was at length with a feeling of immense relief that they saw the darkness begin to lessen.

As the day dawned, a faint breeze sprang up, which brought a gentle, cooling influence with it. They rose and inhaled with long breaths the more grateful air. Gradually the darkness disappeared, and the daylight increased, and the forms of things around them became revealed.

Overhead there was no change from the day before. The sky was all covered over with dense clouds, which seemed to hang much lower down than on the preceding day, and now appeared whirling round and rolling over the heavens in vast vortices. This movement on their part was, no doubt, caused by their encountering the breeze which had sprung up, and which, meeting them now in their course, arrested that course, and whirled them back in confused heaps.

And now a new day lay before them, in which they would have to employ every hour in the search after Phil. What that day or that search might bring forward, they could not tell; but they were eager to begin it as soon as possible. While it was yet morning twilight, they ate their breakfast, and discussed the best plan of procedure. Solomon, as usual, made no remark upon the subject, being content to abide by Bart’s decision, while Bart and Pat talked over various ways of carrying on their search. To separate was not to be thought of, for that would only lead to fresh troubles. So it was decided, that wherever they went, they should now keep together. They further decided that they should go down the stream till they reached that rock already spoken of, which had been the point of Phil’s departure, and try if they could not get upon his trail, so as to see, at least in a general way, what direction he had taken.

During this deliberation about the course which they should take, Bart still exhibited the despondency which had characterized him ever since Phil’s disappearance. The gloom of night and the oppressive sultriness had passed, daylight was at hand, and the breeze brought fresh life to them; but still Bart’s spirits were deeply depressed. Against this Pat rebelled, and the cheerfulness and confidence which he had tried to maintain through the night now assumed a prominent place in his thoughts and in his manner.

“Yes,” said Bart, dolefully, continuing some remark which he had been making, “if we can only get on his trail, we may at least find out the general direction that he has taken. But I’m afraid there’s no hope.”

“Arrah, be off now wid yer nonsinse,” cried Pat. “What’s the use of givin up at the very fust, afore ye’ve made a single trial? Sure an he’ll turrun up all right and safe yit.”

“I wish I could think so.”

“Think so! Why, I know it. Sure am I this day that he’ll turrun up safe an sound. An why shouldn’t he?”

“These woods. If he once gets tangled among them, how can he ever find his way out?”

“Tangled among them, is it? Sure an it’s not so very bad thin. He can only walk on an walk on; an he’s sure to come out somewheres. Besides, he’ll hit upon a road some place or other, and wander along that.”

“There are no roads here.”

“How do you know? Ye don’t know. Thur may be fifty roads widin a mile of this very place, so there may. So what’s the use of givin up?”

“No,” said Bart. “This is a wild, unfrequented place, and the woods are unbroken for an immense distance. If Phil has got among them he will wander on till--till he drops.”

“Ah, come now, none of that. Sure, what do ye think of Phil? Do ye think now that Phil’s an idiot? Sure now, what’d ye do yerself if it was you that was lost instead of Phil? Do you think that you’d wandher about till you dropped, or do ye think ye’d work yer way out somewheres? Come now, ye know ye’d work yer way out, so you would. And so would I. And so will Phil, so he will.”

This process of reasoning struck Bart so forcibly that he had not a word to say. Pat in fact was right in his estimate of Bart’s confidence in himself. Bart really did feel sure that if he were lost in the woods he’d get out.

“Sure now imagine yerself in Phil’s place,” continued Pat, cheerily. “What’d you do? I’ll tell you what you’d do. Whin ye found yerself lost, ye’d thry, of coorse, to git back. Well, thin, ye’d go wandherin about. Very well. Ye’d sit down an rist, and think what ye’d best do nixt. Then ye’d start off afrish. Maybe ye’d climb a tray to see if ye cud see anythin. At any rate ye’d work away as long as the daylight lasted. At steeted intervals ye’d let off howls as loud as ye cud howl. Well, thin, it’ud grow dark, an so ye’d go to work an make up your mind to pass the night here, an ye’d thry, of coorse, to make yerself as comfortable as possible. So ye’d collect any quantity of moss an ferns, an spread them out--perhaps ye’d make a fire--but that’s neither here nor there; anyhow, ye’d make a comfortable bid for yerself, an thin ye’d take a bite of somethin to ate, and thin ye’d lie doun an doze off into the comfortablest slape ye ever knew. That’s what ye’d do--an ye know it, so ye do. Now wouldn’t ye? Answer me that. Isn’t that jist what ye wud do?”

“Well, I suppose I would,” said Bart; “but perhaps the Indian has had something to do.”

“The Injin. O, bah! Bother the Injin. That does to spake of in the middle of a dark night, but not undher the bright daylight. That Injin’s safe in his own camp by noo, I’ll warrant ye.”

By this time they were ready to start, and accordingly they set out on their way down the stream to the rock already mentioned. It was not quite day when they started, but by the time they reached the rock it was full day, so that they would be able to detect any trace of Phil’s pathway if any such trace might remain. The rock was about thirty or forty feet high, and rose upon the edge of the river which flowed along its base. Phil might have crossed the river, and gone down, as Pat did, on the other side; but he chose this, probably thinking that it was only a few steps. On reaching this place Pat was able to point out pretty nearly the spot where he saw Phil mount the bank. Here the underbrush seemed to show signs of having been trampled upon, and they at once ascended the bank in this direction. For some distance the marks continued, and they followed very carefully. At last, shortly after they reached the top of the bank, these faint marks died out utterly, and there remained no trace whatever of any footsteps that was discernible to their eyes. Here, then, they paused, and again considered what they should do.

After careful consideration of everything, it seemed to them that the best thing for them now to do was to advance from the river bank directly into the woods in as straight a line as possible. If they were to do this for several miles, they might get upon the wanderer’s track. They therefore set out, walking away from the river, trying by every possible means to make their course a straight line. They also tore off twigs from the trees as they went and strewed them behind them to leave a trail. Thus they went for about half an hour. Then they began to shout, and still going onward for another half hour, they continued their shouts. But at the end of this time and these efforts they were no better off than at the beginning, and to all their cries there came no response whatever.

Here another discussion took place. It seemed to Pat that Phil must have wandered down the stream, how far he did not know, but perhaps miles, and that on his return he had left the river at some point, and thus been lost. If this were so, it followed that the best place to search for him would be the woods lying on a line with the river, and extending along its banks. If they were now to turn to the right, they would be going in a course parallel to the river, and through those very woods in which it was most likely that Phil might be. Pat’s statement and argument seemed so reasonable that Bart at once adopted it; and so, with the utmost care, they took up a course which seemed as near as possible at right angles with their former one, and consequently as nearly as possible parallel with the flow of the river. In this direction they now went, trying as before to keep a straight course, and to leave a trail behind them. Above all, they kept shouting and calling all the time.

They went on in this course for as much as two hours with no more success than before. They came to woods where the underbrush was so thick, and the ground so swampy, that further progress was out of the question. Here, then, they once more deliberated as to what they should do. To go back seemed inexpressibly irksome, as well as useless. It seemed better to change their course in some new direction, which might be favorable to their hopes. On the whole it now seemed best to get back to the river. Phil might be there somewhere along its banks. In the evening they could go back to their former stopping-place by ascending the course of the river. So they took up a new line of march, which seemed to be exactly at right angles with their last one, and thus went on.

All this time they had been taking the utmost pains to leave a trail; but now, as they were going back to the river, it seemed no longer necessary: so they walked along much more easily and quickly, merely trying to make their pathway as straight as possible.

They walked on for a long time.

The river seemed much more distant than they had supposed.

Still they cheered themselves with the thought, at almost every step, that the next step would bring them in sight of it.

One more pause.

Still the river did not appear.

Another hour passed.

Still no river.

Nevertheless they toiled on, for having set before themselves this river as a certain place to be reached, they were not willing to stop short of it.

But the farther they went, the more hopeless did their attempt seem.