Chapter 7

The cold had become intense, and in their starving condition Charley and Toby felt it perhaps the more keenly. With the disappointment of another morning dawning and still no sign of the longed-for ice, Charley, after making his declaration of discouragement and hopelessness to Toby, became quiet and morose. He had no inclination to leave the tent and the fire, and he spent his time sitting under the shelter and brooding over his troubles.

Toby, no less anxious, made frequent journeys along the shore. On each return he would endeavour to engage Charley in conversation, but without result. Charley's replies to questions were "yes" or "no," unless a statement was necessary, and then it was given in as few words as possible. He appeared to have suddenly developed a grudge against Toby, as though Toby were responsible for their unfortunate position, and at length would not respond to Toby's efforts at conversation, or reply to him.

This was an attitude that Toby could not in the least understand, and he finally, when Charley in silence crawled into his sleeping bag, left the lean-to, doubly depressed because of Charley's bearing toward him, and set out again to reconnoiter the island.

"'Tis not me he's angry with," he soliloquized, "'tis the hunger, and 'tis gettin' the insides of his head sick, like Dad says worry will."

Toby wandered aimlessly along the shore rocks. He was weak, and walking was becoming an effort. For two or three days he and Charley had noticed that when they sat down their knees would unexpectedly give way to let them down with a shock upon their seat; and when they arose, they were compelled to stand for a moment to steady themselves lest they would stagger. Toby's usually brisk walk was now a lounging gait, like that of one grown old.

He had more than half circled the island, and was returning to the lean-to, when his eye fell upon something white, perched in a spruce tree which stood apart from the other trees. He stepped nearer, and his heart leaped with joy. The object was a great snowy owl.

With the best haste he could make he hurried back to the lean-to. Charley was asleep in his bag, and without arousing him Toby secured his rifle, and returned with renewed haste and vigour to the tree.

There still sat the owl taking its daytime rest, and quite unconscious of impending danger. With greater care than he had ever taken before, Toby aimed, fired, and the owl came tumbling to the snow below.

As though fearful that it might still escape from him, Toby sprang upon the dead bird like a ravenous wolf. Tears of joy came into his eyes as he held it up and stroked its feathers, and hugged it close to his breast. This would save his own and Charley's life, and how glad Charley would be!

How he ran back to the lean-to! How he shouted to Charley as he approached! How the two boys, their eyes wet with tears, stroked the thing for a moment before plucking it! these were events that neither ever forgot while he lived.

"The Lard sent un to us! The Good Lard sent un!" declared Toby.

"The Lord surely sent it to save us!" said Charley devoutly. "Toby, I've been a cad. I was so selfish that I was thinking that nothing mattered but my having to stay here, and I guess I was blaming you for it. I don't know why, for you didn't make the storm that stranded us here. Anyhow, I acted a cad, and I want to tell you how sorry I am."

"'Tweren't your fault," soothed Toby. "Don't think of un. 'Twere like Dad says, you got to worryin' and worry were makin' the insides of your head upsot."

"Your father always says not to worry, but the Lord will help us out of any fix, if we do our best first," said Charley. "He's right. Isn't it just great, Toby, that you saw it and shot it! I feel like yelling, I feel so happy!"

"Just get out and yell all you wants to," grinned Toby. "We'll have one good feed, whatever."

In remarkably short time the owl was plucked, dressed and boiling merrily over the fire in a kettle that was becoming rusty from disuse.

"We'll be eatin' the broth first, and then the meat a bit at a time, and often," suggested Toby. "The Indians says if they eats too much when they first gets un after starvin' 'tis like to make un sick. Sometimes they gets wonderful sick, too."

"Then we'll be careful," agreed Charley, "though it's mighty hard not to pitch right in. I feel as though I could eat it all and then want more."

"So does I," grinned Toby, "and I'm not doubtin' you could eat un all, and I knows 'twould be easy for me to eat un."

How delicious the broth tasted, unsalted and unseasoned as it was! And when they drank it all, and temptation got the better of them and they each ate a small portion of the meat.

"'Tis growing calmer on the water," Toby announced when he had covered the kettle and hidden its contents from their hungry eyes. "I sees un when I'm out and sees the owl in the tree. The water's smokin' just fine now. Come and have a look, Charley."

"All right," said Charley reluctantly rising, though cheerfully. "If I stay here by the kettle, I'll not be able to leave the meat alone, and one of us mustn't have any more of it than the other."

Down on the sunny side of the island Charley all at once clutched Toby's arm.

"What's that?" he whispered excitedly, pointing to a dark object lying upon the rocks just above the water's edge.

XIV

THE BAY FASTENS

"Down!" whispered Toby. "Keep down where you is! Don't move! 'Tis a swile!"

Charley lay prone upon the snow, scarcely daring to move, and Toby was gone in a twinkling, moving as silently as a fox. It seemed an age that Charley lay there before he discovered Toby edging, rifle in hand, to a rock behind which he might have good vantage ground for a shot.

Charley, tense with excitement lest the seal might take alarm, watched Toby's every movement as he wormed himself forward, then lay still, then wormed forward again little by little. On his success might depend their lives, and Charley realized it fully. The owl would not last long, and would not go far to renew their wasted strength. The ice had not yet formed upon the bay, and still many days might pass before it would form.

At last Toby reached the rock, and Charley held his breath as Toby slowly and deliberately adjusted the rifle at his shoulder and aimed. Then the rifle rang out as music to Charley's ears. The seal gave a spasmodic lurch toward the water, and then lay still. Toby's aim had been sure, and the bullet had reached its mark in the head, the one point where it would deal quick and certain death to the seal.

Both boys ran to their game, and fairly shouted with the joy of success. They touched it with their moccasined toes, and felt it with their hands.

"'Tis a dotar,"[5] said Toby. "Now we has plenty to eat till the bay fastens over."

"The Lord is _surely_ helping us!" declared Charley devoutly. "Just when I gave up all hope of ever getting away from this island you shot the owl, and now we've got the seal!"

"Let's thank the Lard," suggested Toby. "Dad says 'tis a fine thing to thank He for what He's givin' us, and tryin' to be doin' somethin' for _He_ sometimes, and not be always just askin' He for somethin' and takin' what He's givin' us without ever lettin' He know how much we likes un."

"You thank Him, Toby. I don't know just how to do it," admitted Charley. "Dad never says blessing or gives thanks at the table the way your father does."

"I'll thank He," agreed Toby. "We'll be gettin' on our knees."

The two boys knelt.

"Lard, Charley and I be wonderful thankful for the owl and the swile You sends us. And we'll be tryin' to think o' things to do for You, and we has a chanst. Amen."

"That makes me feel better," Charley confessed. "Now what shall we do with the seal?"

"I'll be gettin' a rope, and we'll haul he over to camp."

"I'll stay here and watch it till you come back," Charley volunteered.

"I'll be comin' right back, and the swile'll not be runnin' away," grinned Toby.

"I know it," Charley laughed, "but I just want to enjoy looking at it."

When Toby was gone, Charley stroked the seal caressingly. He was sure now that all of their worries were at an end. His heart was light again, and he stood up and looked out over the smoking waters, and breathed deeply of the frosty air. How lovely the world was! How glorious it was just to live! What an Odyssey of adventures he would have to relate when he reached home! And still, he mused, as wonderful as these adventures appeared to him they were a part of the routine of life in the country, and not one of them unusual. Toby looked upon them as a part of the day's work, and experiences that were to be expected.

Lost in retrospection, Charley was surprised by Toby's return with the rope much sooner than he had expected him. The rope was fastened to the seal, and the two boys, their hearts light with the certainty of food to sustain them and end their long fast, hauled the carcass back to their bivouac.

It was not easy to be abstemious in their eating. The broth from the owl had aroused the full vigour of the appetite of both boys, which had to some extent become dormant with long fasting. But they heeded the warning Toby had borrowed from the Indians, and practicing self-denial ate sparingly, though often.

Toby busied himself at once in removing the seal's entrails, before the carcass could freeze, and this he did without skinning it, explaining to Charley that if the ice formed before they had eaten the flesh, as he expected it would, they could haul it home over the ice, at the end of the rope, much more easily than they could carry the dismembered joints. Extracting the liver, and laying it back under the lean-to on a piece of bark, Toby remarked:

"We'll be eatin' the liver fried in a bit o' seal fat for breakfast. If we just eats the owl to-day, I'm thinkin' by marnin' we can stand the liver, or a piece of un. 'Tis stronger meat than the owl. After the liver's gone, we'll be tryin' the flippers."

"All right," agreed Charley, happily. "Anything you say goes with me. I'm going to have a good time here now until we get away."

"So'll I," said Toby, "and we'll not be startin' till the ice is strong enough, whatever, so's not to be takin' any risk o' breakin' through. 'Tis never as thick outside as 'tis near shore."

When they awoke the next morning, a new and strange silence had fallen upon the world. Toby sat up excitedly, and shaking Charley into wakefulness, asked:

"Does you hear un? Does you hear un?"

"Hear what?" asked Charley, sleepily. "I don't hear a thing."

"Hear the stillness!" explained Toby. "The water's not lappin'! The bay has fastened over! By to-morrow, whatever, we'll be leavin' here for Double Up Cove!"

"Hurrah!" shouted Charley, now thoroughly awake. "Isn't it great, Toby! We'll start to-morrow, and to-morrow night we'll be at good old Double Up Cove again! Hurrah!"

Charley "heard" the silence, the impressive, gravelike silence that had fallen upon the world. No longer was there a lapping of waters upon the rocks. No breath of wind murmured through the trees. There was a silence so complete, so absolute that Charley declared he could actually hear it.

The boys hurried down to the shore to scan the bay, and sure enough it lay gray and still under a coating of smooth, dark ice. Toby tried it with a stick, and already it was tough enough to bear his weight near shore.

"I'm doubtin' 'tis fast out in the middle yet," said Toby, "but she'll be freezin' all day, and she'll be fast enough all over by to-morrow, whatever."

It was a busy day of preparation and excitement. On the morrow they were surely to be relieved from their island prison and from an experience that had been most trying and that they would both remember while they lived. All of the boat gear that they had brought ashore and other equipment and belongings were gathered together in a pile.

"'Tisn't much," said Toby, "but 'twould make for weariness to pack un on our backs. I'm thinkin' I'll fix up a riggin' to haul un. 'Twill be easier than packin'."

He proceeded to lay two of the long boat oars parallel upon the snow, and about eighteen inches apart. The blade end of the oars he connected with half a dozen sticks, the end of the sticks lashed firmly to the oars. The handle end of the oars he connected with a piece of rope, drawn taut, and securely tied to the handles.

"Now stand betwixt the handles, Charley, and lift un up so's the rope'll be against your chest," Toby directed.

Charley complied, and Toby tied another piece of rope to the end of one of the oars, and where the chest rope was tied to it. Then passing the rope up and in front of the shoulder, then behind the neck and down in front of the other shoulder, he secured the loose end to the other oar.

"There, now," said Toby, surveying his work, "she'll ride on the ice and she's right for easy haulin'. The rope up around the back o' your neck holds she so you won't have to be holdin' she up with your hands, and you can have un free, and the rope across your chest fixes un so's you can haul by just walkin'."

"Am I going to haul this rig?" asked Charley.

"We'll be takin' turns at she and the seal," said Toby. "You'll be haulin' the one you likes to haul best, and I'll be haulin' the other. But I thinks this un'll be easier to haul than the seal. She'll be slippin' over the ice wonderful easy. We'll be lashin' the outfit on the sticks across the oar blades on the other end. 'Twill be light. We hasn't much of un to take. We'll cache the other pair of oars here for Dad to pick up next year when he's comin' up with the boat."

"All right," agreed Charley. "This rig will be dead easy to walk with on the ice, and I think I'll take it and let you drag the seal, if you don't mind."

"I'll be goin' ahead with the seal, if you likes the rig," planned Toby, "and I'll take a stick to try the ice, so we'll be keepin' abroad from any bad ice."

"You're wonderful, Toby!" exclaimed Charley admiringly. "I never would have thought of fixing up a rig like this."

"'Twill be easier'n packin' the outfit on our backs," remarked Toby.

Under ordinary conditions Charley would have found the fishy flavour of the seal's liver, and the still more highly flavoured flippers objectionable, if not offensive, to his taste. But now he pronounced them delectable, and his revived appetite found no grounds for complaint or criticism. During the day they consumed the liver, and for the evening meal a pair of flippers.

With the skin still in place that it might protect the meat and carcass of the seal in dragging it over the ice, Toby cut some liberal slices of meat in preparation for the frying pan in the morning, that there might be no delay. He also prepared an extra portion for the next day's luncheon, which he said they could eat cold.

Before they retired to their sleeping bags, Toby again led the way to the ice, and tried it with his ax. It was fully two inches thick.

"She's fine and tough, and she's makin' for thickness fast," Toby announced delightedly. "She'll be twice as thick by marnin', whatever! She'd hold us now! Salt water ice is a wonderful sight tougher'n fresh water ice."

That night, snug in his sleeping bag, Charley recalled the many adventures that had befallen him since his arrival at Pinch-In Tickle nearly a month before. One peril after another had beset him, and now, the worst of all, threatened starvation upon this desolate island, was about to end, and he thanked God silently for his deliverance.

To the dwellers in that far, silent land adventures are an incident in the game of life, and their existence is truly a man's game fashioned for the sturdy of soul and strong of heart. Everywhere in that bleak country adventure lurks, ever ready to spring upon the unwary. In the mysterious and dark depths of the broad forests, in the open wastes of the bleak barrens, in the breath of the sea winds it is met suddenly and unexpectedly. And soon enough Charley was to meet it again in a struggle for his very life, as we shall see.

XV

LOST IN THE BARRENS

Winter, the monarch of the North, had returned to his throne to rule his kingdom with relentless hand. Never had Charley experienced such cold as that which met him when he and Toby left their sleeping bags the next morning. The air was marvelously clear and transparent. The stars shone with unusual brilliancy, and seemed very near the earth. Frost prisms on the snow sparkled and glinted in the starlight.

"Our skin boots'll be freezin' stiff as sticks," remarked Toby. "'Tis time for deerskin moccasins, for the snow'll not be softenin' again. They'll be steady freezin' all day, and _I_ thinks steady freezin' now till the end o' winter."

"Oh, boy, but it's cold!" shivered Charley, as he hurriedly drew on his duffle socks and skin boots.

"Wonderful frosty!" said Toby, as he lighted the fire. "There's no doubtin' the ice'll be stout enough to hold us now, whatever, and she'll be makin' thicker all day."

In a few minutes the fire was crackling and snapping cheerily, and the boys drew close to its genial warmth. A kettle of ice was put over to melt for water, and some slices of seal meat to fry in the pan.

They were eager to gain release from their island prison, and when their meal was eaten Toby hurriedly lashed their few belongings, including the boat sail, which had served so well as a shelter, upon the improvised travois, for Charley to drag behind him. A rope had been attached to the now hard-frozen seal the evening before. Snow was thrown upon the fire to put it out, that there might be no danger of a breeze scattering the embers among the trees, which covered the center of the island with a scant growth, and burning them. Then, with cheerful hearts and eager feet they turned down upon the ice and set forth on their way to Double Up Cove at last.

Toby, carrying a staff with which to try the ice ahead, and with the seal in tow, took the lead, while Charley, with the travois followed. How good it was to be away! How glorious the ice and the starlit morning!

The surface of the bay, smooth and firm, proved much more solidly frozen than Toby had expected to find it, and in a little while, when they had passed the center of ice lying between the island and the mainland, he discarded his staff as an unnecessary burden.

"She don't bend anywhere," he said delightedly. "We'll not be needin' to try she now. Past the middle 'tis sure to be tough and thick. We'll be headin' now for shore, and be keepin' clost inshore where there'll sure be no bad ice whatever."

"Isn't it glorious!" Charley exploded in exuberance. "I feel like dancing a jig! Whoopla! Toby, let's yell!"

And together the boys gave a yell that made the forest on the near-by shore echo.

"Oh, but it's great!" exclaimed Charley a little later. "I'm glad there's no snow on the ice. This rig I'm harnessed in wouldn't drag half so easily if there was snow. I don't mind it a little bit. I hardly feel the difference, it slides so well. How long will it take us?"

"With the early start, we'll be getting there a bit after dinner, and we may make un by dinner. We were startin' two hours before daylight, whatever."

The travois continued to prove no appreciable burden to Charley, as Toby had feared it would. The clear frosty air was an inspiration to fast walking, and indeed it was necessary for the boys to walk fast in order that they might keep the blood in circulation and comfortably warm. His experience on the trail with Skipper Zeb had toughened Charley's muscles, and improved his powers of endurance greatly, and he had no difficulty in keeping the quite rapid pace that Toby made.

They had been a full two hours on the trail when daylight came, and presently the sun peeped over the eastern horizon. In the flood of glorious sunshine that suddenly bathed the world, every shrub and bush that lined the shore, thickly coated with hoarfrost and rime, sparkled and glinted as though encrusted with burnished silver set with countless diamonds.

"How wonderful!" exclaimed Charley. "Isn't it great, Toby! I never saw anything like it!"

"Aye, 'tis wonderful fine," said Toby.

Even in the full rays of sunshine the snow along shore did not soften, and the ice kept dry. Charley declared that it was no warmer at midday than it had been in the early morning.

It was nearly one o'clock when they rounded the point above Double Up Cove, and the cabin fell into view. Smoke was curling upward from the stovepipe which protruded above the roof. How cozy and hospitable it looked! Both boys gave exclamations of pleasure, and with one accord broke into a trot.

Mrs. Twig and Violet saw them coming, and putting on the kettle hurried outside to greet them, and what a welcome they received!

"Set down now, lads, by the stove whilst I gets you something to eat, and sets a pot o' tea to brew," admonished Mrs. Twig. "You must be rare hungry, and 'tis wonderful frosty."

While the boys ate a hastily prepared luncheon of bread and molasses and drank hot tea they related their experiences, interrupted by Mrs. Twig, who was cooking a substantial dinner of stewed rabbit, with frequent exclamations of concern or sympathy.

"Vi'let and I were worryin' and worryin' about you lads, when the storm comes," confessed Mrs. Twig. "We were fearin' you'd be comin' in the boat. I'm wonderful thankful you gets home safe!"

The borrowed garments that Charley had been wearing were now discarded for new, and sealskin boots were now replaced by buckskin moccasins and moleskin leggings.

During their absence Mrs. Twig had made for Charley an adikey of white woolen kersey, and another to wear over it of white moleskin cloth, the hood of the latter trimmed with lynx fur. The former was for warmth, and the latter to break the wind and to shed snow readily. She had also made him moleskin trousers and leggings, and a fur cap for each of the boys. The caps were made from the pelt of the lynx that they had shot on that memorable evening when they first set their rabbit snares. There were new buckskin moccasins for Charley, with socks of heavy blanket duffle to wear inside the moccasins; and buckskin mittens, with inner mittens of duffle that would keep the hands comfortable on the coldest day.

The novelty of the new life, flavoured with his many adventures, had long since stilled completely the pangs of homesickness that had insisted upon asserting themselves during Charley's first days at Double Up Cove, and he was quite as contented as though he had always lived in a cabin in the wilderness. Home and the old life had melted into what seemed like a far distant past to him, though his father and mother were still very real and dear, and he often imagined them as near at hand, as they were, indeed, in a spiritual sense.

On the day after their return fresh rabbit snares were set, and on the following morning when they went to look at the snares, Toby took with him two fox traps.

"I were seein' some footin' o' foxes on the mesh," he explained. "I'm thinkin' we'll set the traps, and we might get a fox. Dad would be wonderful glad and we gets a fox. There's a chance we might get a silver, or a cross, whatever."

"That would be great!" exclaimed Charley. "And can't we set other traps?"

"Aye, when I gets everything fixed up about home we'll set some marten traps too. There's fine signs o' martens. Dad don't think we can get un hereabouts, but I sees the signs and we'll get un!"

Beyond the last rabbit snare, and a quarter mile out upon an open marsh, Toby set the first fox trap, concealing it, as Skipper Zeb had concealed his fox traps, with great care, and scattering bits of meat around the trap and over the snow, and a few drops of liquid from a bottle which he called "scent," and which had a most unpleasant odour.