Chapter 13

This was an adventure indeed for Charley. He had never before seen Indians other than those exhibited in shows in New York. But these were different. They had never tasted civilization. They were like the Indians that Natty Bumpo knew, and of which Charley had read in Cooper's tales. He thrilled with the thought that he was traveling with Indians quite as primitive as those which Henry Hudson met when he first sailed up the river that was named after him. These, indeed, he was happy to think, might be the descendants of some of those very Indians, still living the untamed, free life of their primordial ancestors.

It was still dark when the komatik drew up before the cabins at Pinch-In Tickle, now grown familiar to Charley. Here the Indians quickly unloaded the komatik, while Toby and Charley lighted a fire in the stove and put the kettle on to boil; and while Toby fried some fresh caribou steak, the two Indians ran down the trail to assure themselves that Marks had turned to the southward instead of to the northward.

Presently they were back to report that the ice was safe through the tickle, and that Marks had gone, as Toby had expected, southward.

Charley was glad of the opportunity for a short rest, and both boys were hungry. The moment they had eaten, however, the Indians were on their feet keen for the chase. The sledge was lightly laden now, and the dogs traveled so rapidly that Charley and Toby were able to ride much of the time, though the Indians ran ahead to keep their eye on the trail.

Presently dawn came, and before they turned into the bay to the southward it was full daylight. It was at this time that Amishku, who was some distance in advance, held up his hand and signaled Toby to stop. The two Indians in a moment were lost to view among the boulders that lined the shore, and into which they crept.

"I wonder what's up?" asked Charley, no little excited by the occurrence.

"I'm not knowin'. Maybe 'tis some game they sees. 'Tis not like that Marks would be bidin' hereabouts. He sure went on to Dyson's or Slade's, whatever," answered Toby, no less mystified than was Charley.

Not more than fifteen minutes had passed, though it seemed to the boys much longer, when they saw the Indians returning, and when they joined them at the komatik Amishku held out the silver fox pelt to Toby.

"We got the silver fox skin for our friend, and we are glad," said Amishku, in high good humour. "The man who stole it will never steal again."

"You--don't mean--you--killed him?" asked Toby, suddenly sorry that he had permitted the Indians to come, and so horrified at the thought that the Indians might have done such a thing for him that he could scarcely speak.

"No," answered Amishku. "His dogs kill him. The dogs are there. The sledge is there. Not much of the man is there."

"The gray dog!" exclaimed Toby.

They drove their team nearer to the scene of the tragedy. A horrible thing met their view, and they quickly turned from it--blood-stained snow, pieces of torn clothing, and other evidences of the tragedy that had taken place.

The gray dog and his mates were still held in leash by their harness, and Toby decided that they should drive on to Aaron Slade's cabin to tell him what had happened and to ask his assistance. And when they reached Aaron's and he had listened to their story, he said:

"I'll drive my team over and take care of un, lads. 'Tis no job for lads like you."

XXVI

THE END OF THE FIX

March, with its sudden blizzards and terrific gales passed. Mid-April came, and Toby and Charley, with dogs and komatik, met Skipper Zeb at Black River tilt, when he appeared again out of the silent wilderness with the harvest of his labours, and his winter's trapping was ended.

How happy they were when Skipper Zeb was home again. It was pleasant to hear his big voice and his jolly laugh booming about the cabin. He was always an optimist, and he always made every one feel that everything was all right.

"Well, now! Here we are all safe and sound and snug! The winter gone, and nothin' to worry about, but a wonderful lot to be thankful to the Lard for!"

The days were long now, and with the coming of May the sun began to assert his strength. The snow softened at midday, and sealskin boots again took the place of buckskin moccasins.

Toby and Charley, with dogs and komatik, hauled wood that Toby had cut in the fall, and more wood that Skipper Zeb felled each day, in preparation for another winter.

"Before we knows un the summer'll be gone and the fishin' over, and Dad'll be settin' up his traps again, and the winter'll come, and I'll not be havin' you, Charley," said Toby sadly.

When there was enough wood cut and hauled to the cabin, and the warm days of June came with their threat of a final break-up of the ice in the bay, Long Tom Ham appeared to take the dogs to Lucky Bight for the summer.

A lump came in Charley's throat when he saw Long Tom Ham drive the dogs away. The going of the dogs marked the end of winter, and the time close at hand when they should close the little cabin at Double Up Cove, where he had spent so many happy months, and depart for Pinch-In Tickle, to await the coming of the mail boat.

But with every wave of regret there followed the happy thought that he would soon be with his father and his mother again, and the thought always sent a tingle of joy up and down his spine. What a meeting that would be! What a welcome he should receive! What tales he would have to tell! How proud his father would be of him! How his mother would hover over him and love him! As much as he regretted leaving his good friends, these thoughts made the time that he must wait for his going seem all too long.

Near the end of June came a deluge of rain. Miniature rivers poured down the hillsides into the bay, and the world became a sea of slush. When the rain ceased and the sky cleared, the sun shone warm and mellow, and the ice, now broken into pans, began to move out with the tide.

Seals were now basking in the sunshine upon the loosened ice and upon the shore, and for two weeks Skipper Zeb and the boys devoted their time to hunting them. The skins were needed for boots, the flesh for dog food, and the blubber for oil. Sometimes they would themselves eat seal meat, and though the Twigs were fond of it, and Charley had pronounced the meat excellent when he and Toby were starving on Swile Island, he now thought it strong and not as palatable as he would like.

On the last day of June Skipper Zeb's trap boat, calked and made tight, was launched, and Skipper Zeb announced:

"Well, now! Here we are clear of ice, and I'm thinkin' there'll soon be signs of fish down at the tickle. To-morrow marnin', and the weather holds fine, we'll be cruisin' down. In another week, or fortnight, whatever, the mail boat'll be comin' and blowin' her whistle in the offing. I tells you, Charley lad, when you comes, and when you wants to go home so bad, that when the mail boat comes back and blows her whistle in the offing, we'd be ready and waitin' for she."

And so it came to pass that Charley found himself again with Skipper Zeb and his family in the little cabin at Pinch-In Tickle. How crude it had seemed to him that day when Toby led him up the path, and he had first met Skipper Zeb! How comfortable and hospitable it seemed to him now! How many memories it held for him!

Early one morning there sounded the long blast of a whistle, and presently the mail boat appeared in the tickle, and came to in the offing. There was great excitement in Skipper Zeb's cabin. Charley had no time to change to the clothes in which he had arrived, but they were packed in a neat bundle, and in another bundle were the wolf and bear skins, together with many other souvenirs of the winter. Charley wished to give his rifle to Toby, but Toby declined:

"Keep un yourself to remember the bear, and our other huntin'."

"I'll send you and your father new ones, as I promised, anyhow," Charley assured.

"Well, now, and there's the mail boat!" exclaimed Skipper Zeb. "She's come at last to take Charley away from us! And this is the end of the fix you gets in! I'm wonderful sorry to have you go, lad! We're thinkin' of you like one of the family now, and we're not wishin' to lose you."

"We're all wonderful sorry!" and Mrs. Twig brushed away a tear.

"Some day," said Charley, his heart full, "I'll come back to see you, and perhaps I'll bring Dad with me to show him how good you people are, and how we live in a real wilderness."

"I'll be puttin' you over in the punt to the mail boat," said Toby, reluctant to bid Charley farewell.

They all went down to the landing to see him off, Skipper Zeb, Mrs. Twig and Violet. He sat in the stern of the punt, as he did on the day Toby took him ashore, while Toby rowed him alongside and helped him on deck with his baggage, and then the boys grasped each other's hands in farewell.

"'Twere the finest winter I ever has--with you here," and Toby's choking voice would permit him to say no more.

"It was the finest winter I ever spent, too," and Charley was little less moved than Toby.

"The ship's movin'. Good-bye!" and Toby hurried down the ladder and into his boat.

Charley stood at the rail watching Toby row his old punt back, until the ship passed into the tickle and shut from view Toby, the rocky hillside, the clinging cabins and Skipper Zeb with Mrs. Twig and Violet at the landing still waving their farewell to him.

"Where you going?" the steward's question met Charley as he turned from the rail.

"To St. John's. Don't you know me? I'm Charley Norton who came down with you last fall."

It was several minutes before the steward could convince himself that this upstanding, clear-eyed, bronze-skinned fellow, attired like a Labradorman, was the pale, listless unhappy lad they had lost the previous fall. Then he hastened to Captain Barcus with the news, and Captain Barcus and the whole crew gathered around Charley and welcomed him as they would have welcomed a returned hero, to his great confusion.

"Now a wireless to your father!" beamed Captain Barcus, when Charley had been duly greeted.

* * * * *

Mr. Bruce Norton was in his private office on William Street, in New York City, dictating his morning mail, when a boy laid a telegram upon his desk. He finished the letter he was dictating, before opening the message, and then he read:

"Will arrive in St. John's July twentieth, on mail boat from Labrador. Had a great winter. Killed a wolf and shot a white bear. Wire how you and mother are. Love to you both. Cannot wait to see you.

"CHARLEY."

Mr. Norton was upon his feet before he had read the last line. He stuffed the message into his pocket, seized his hat, and as he bolted from his office he shouted to his secretary, who now filled the place formerly occupied by Mr. Henry Wise:

"Get sleeper reservations for Mrs. Norton and myself to St. John's at once!"

"For to-day?" asked the secretary.

"Yes! Yes! First train possible!" and Mr. Norton disappeared in an elevator.

When Mr. Norton broke the good news to Mrs. Norton a half hour later, the two declared it was the happiest day of their whole life. But when, a week later, they greeted Charley in St. John's when he disembarked from the mail boat, and he threw his arms around his mother, perhaps a greater height of happiness was reached.

Before they left St. John's, Mr. Norton contracted for the best motor boat that he could buy, to be shipped on the mail boat to Skipper Zeb; and with it went a host of gifts to Mrs. Twig and Violet from Mrs. Norton, and new rifles and ammunition to Skipper Zeb and Toby as gifts from Charley.

And we may be sure that the friendship did not end with this. But our story has already grown too long, and those happenings of after years belong to another tale.

FOOTNOTE: [15] The Wolf.

Printed in the United States of America

Transcriber's Notes: 1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards. 2. In the original, the place name "St. John's" was consistently spelled incorrectly as "St. Johns" and has been corrected here.