Chapter 9

Then the komatik broke loose. Charley threw himself upon it, still clinging to the whip, as the dogs, at a mad gallop, turned across a neck of the marsh and toward a low hill that rose at the edge of the barrens and a quarter of a mile to the westward.

The komatik bounced from side to side with every hummock of ice it struck, and several times was in imminent danger of overturning. Charley shouted "Ah! Ah!" at the top of his voice in vain effort to stop the mad beasts, and then "Ouk! Ouk! Ouk!" and "Rahder! Rahder! Rahder!" in the hope that they would swing to the right or to the left and return to the starting point.

But on they went, howling more excitedly and going faster and faster until, suddenly, at the farther side of the neck of marsh and at the very edge of the barrens, the komatik struck a rock and with the impact the bridle, a line of walrus hide which connected the dogs' traces to the komatik, snapped. The yelping, howling dogs, freed from the komatik, ran wildly and eagerly on, and soon passed over the lower slopes of the hill and out of sight.

Charley, dazed at what had happened, watched the dogs disappear. Then, in sudden realization that they had escaped from him and were gone, he ran after them calling them excitedly but vainly.

He had not run far when all at once he saw them swing down over the brow of the hill toward the komatik, and he turned about and ran to the komatik to intercept them with the whip, which he was still dragging. The dogs were before him, a snarling, fighting mass. He was sure they would tear each other to pieces. He was about to lay the whip upon them when to his amazement he discovered that there were many more than eight dogs fighting, and that the strangers were even more ferocious creatures than those of the team, and wore no harness.

He brought down his whip upon the savage mass. Immediately one of the strange animals turned upon him, showing its gleaming white fangs, and with short, snapping yelps was about to spring at him, when Sampson, taking advantage of the animal's diverted attention, snapped his fangs into its neck.

Then it was that the truth dawned upon Charley. The strange beasts were not dogs, but a pack of the terrible northern wolves of which he had heard. It was plain, too, that the dogs were no match for them, and then the thought came to him that he had no firearms and no means of protecting himself against them.

XVIII

THE FIGHT WITH THE WOLVES

A Cold sweat broke out upon Charley's body. His knees went limp. He felt like one receiving the sentence of death. He was sure that he would presently be torn to pieces by the savage beasts.

The wolves were getting the better of the fight. They were one less in number than the dogs, but the dogs were hampered by their harness, and they were not as free to spring aside and snap at their enemy as were the wolves. Tucker and Traps, bleeding and mangled, were falling back and trying to escape. The other dogs were fighting valiantly, but they were fighting a losing fight, and Charley's untrained eyes could see that there would soon be an end of it, with the wolves victors.

Toby had taken his rifle with him, and Charley was unarmed. There was no chance for defence, and no escape. There was not a tree nearer than the farther side of the marsh that he could climb, and long before he could reach the woods the fight would be over and the wolves would be after him.

His eyes, as he looked helplessly about, fell upon an ax tucked under the lashings of the komatik. With nervous hands he drew it forth, and held it ready to strike at the first attacking animal.

Sampson and a big gray wolf were facing each other, and each maneuvering for an opening to snap at the other's throat. The wolf's back was toward Charley, and not two paces away. With a sudden impulse he sprang forward and brought the ax down upon the creature's head. It fell and lay still. He had killed it with one blow.

The two wolves that were attacking Tucker and Traps, sensing a new and more formidable enemy, turned upon Charley. Swinging his ax he held them at bay, while they crouched, watching for an opening, their lips drawn back from their ugly fangs, while with ferocious snaps and yelps they voiced their defiance.

Then came the sharp report of a rifle, and one of the wolves fell. Then another report, and the other crumpled by the side of its dead mate.

The remainder of the pack, suddenly aware of a new and unknown danger, broke from the dogs and ran, with bullets from Toby's rifle raising little spurts of snow around them until they disappeared over a spur of the hill.

"I hears the fightin'," said Toby, "and I runs as fast as I can. I sees you knock that un over with the ax. 'Twere wonderful plucky, Charley, to fight un with an ax."

Charley sank, weak and trembling, upon the komatik.

"I--thought--they'd--kill--me," he said.

"'Twere lucky I hears un." Toby stooped and felt of the fur of one of those he had shot. "They's prime, and we gets three of un, whatever. They pays six dollars for wolf skins at the post, and we'll be gettin' eighteen dollars for un. The dogs gets cut up some, but not so bad, and they'll get over un."

Charley made no response. He was not interested in the character or value of the fur. He was too close to the peril from which he had escaped. He had been face to face with what he had believed to be certain death. How could Toby treat the incident with so little concern, and apparently with so little appreciation of the grave danger just ended? He was giving first thought to the value of the pelts, as though that mattered in the least.

Toby, on his part, did not in any degree deprecate the peril in which Charley had been placed, but now that it was ended, why should he talk about it or even think about it? This was a habit of his life, a life of unremitting endeavour in a stern land with its own dangers and adventures which Toby accepted as a matter of course and to be expected. In his city streets Charley might dodge an automobile at a crossing and escape with his life by a hair's breadth, but Charley would scarcely give such an adventure a second thought. But to Toby such would have been an adventure to think and talk about and to remember with a thrill.

To Toby now, the matter of chief importance was the fact that he and Charley had earned the trade value of three wolf pelts, which was eighteen dollars, and that was a good day's wages. The danger was at an end and behind them, and no longer worth a thought; the reward was before them, and Toby began immediately, as a habit of life, to enjoy it in anticipation.

While life warmth was still in the carcasses, the boys turned their attention to the removal of the pelts, after first securing the dogs and repairing the broken bridle. As Charley worked his interest in his trophy grew, and he was as proud of it as he had ever been of anything in his life. He had killed a wolf at close quarters! It was an achievement to be proud of, and what normal boy or man would not have been proud of it?

This was the first pelt that Charley had ever secured by his own effort, and when they reached home he insisted upon stretching it himself, with a word or two of advice from Toby. Then, with a sheathknife, and with much pride, he scraped it free from every particle of clinging flesh and fat.

None of the dogs, as an examination disclosed, was seriously injured, though Tucker and Traps had suffered severe lacerations from the wolf fangs, and these two were relieved from team work for several days.

During the week following the adventure with the wolves, good fortune smiled upon the young hunters. More martens were captured, increasing the number of marten pelts to nine, and Toby shot an otter.

But the crowning event of the winter, and, Toby was sure, the big event of his life, came two days after the fox traps had been removed from the marsh to the barrens, when Toby found in one of them a silver fox. They all declared, as did Long Tom Ham, who came over from Lucky Bight to see the pelt, that it was the blackest, thickest and longest furred, and glossiest silver fox they had ever seen.

"'Tis rare fine fur," said Mrs. Twig, shaking out the pelt and holding it up to admire it when it was finally dry and Toby had removed it from the board that it might be packed carefully and safely away in one of the chests.

"Aye," boasted Toby, "'tis that. 'Twill be worth five hundred dollars at the post, or four hundred _what_ever."

"Now we'll not have to skimp so with things," said Mrs. Twig happily. "The silver'll get us a wonderful lot o' things we needs, and 'twill pay the debt at the post."

"We has the marten skins, too," said Toby. "They's worth at the post thirty dollars apiece, good martens like they. Skipper Tom Ham says that be the price this year for good black martens, and all we has is black. I'm thinkin' the otter'll be bringin' fifty dollars whatever. 'Tis a wonderful fine skin o' fur."

"You and Charley were wonderful lucky gettin' fur," said Mrs. Twig in praise.

In another ten days Skipper Zeb would come home from his trapping grounds to bring the pelts he had captured, and to take back with him, after a fortnight's rest, a fresh supply of provisions.

Skipper Zeb's mid-winter return was always an occasion for great rejoicing, but this winter it would have an added flavour of joy. All of them were keenly anxious that he see the silver fox pelt, and Toby declared he could hardly wait to show it to him.

"'Twill be a rare treat for he, now," said Toby.

It was an event, indeed. Even Skipper Zeb had never in all his life caught a silver fox. Toby and Charley were justly proud, too, of their success in catching martens. Skipper Zeb had smiled indulgently when Toby had told him that with Charley's help he would set some marten traps, and Skipper Zeb's only remark had been, "'Twill be fine practice for you lads," never expecting that they would get a pelt. Indeed, Toby's previous winter's trapping had resulted in nothing but rabbits, but that was due, Toby had complained, to the fact that his mother had not permitted him to go so far alone into the forest. But this year he was older, and with Charley's companionship she had made no restrictions upon bounds.

"And there are the wolf skins," said Toby. "I wants Charley to take un home with he when he goes next summer on the mail boat. Twere he that fought for un, and they belongs to he."

"Aye, they belongs to Charley," agreed Mrs. Twig, "and half the martens too. If 'tweren't for Charley bein' here to go along with you, you couldn't have got un, with all the work you were havin' to do with the wood, to make you bide home. If Charley were havin' a rifle when he meets the wolves he'd have got more of un, and the dogs wouldn't have got cut up so bad."

"I wish I had a rifle," Charley suggested eagerly. "I've got sixty dollars my father gave me before I left him. Is there anywhere I could buy one with that?"

"You'll be needin' that to pay your passage back home," Mrs. Twig counseled. "You needs some warm underclothes, and I'm thinkin' now you and Toby might take the dogs and komatik and go to Skipper Cy Blink's tradin' store at Deer Harbour, and take three of the marten skins and trade un in for a rifle and what you needs, and Toby can get some things we're needin' in the house."

"Oh, I wish we could!" Charley exclaimed. "But the skins aren't really mine," he added more soberly. "I owe you a lot for keeping me here, and for all you've done for me, but Dad will pay you for that when I get home."

"You owes us nothing," declared Mrs. Twig, a little out of patience that Charley should have suggested it. "You pays for all you gets in work, and half the skins be yours, whatever."

"Thank you," said Charley gratefully, "but I can't help feeling that you're doing a lot more for me than I deserve, and I'm sure a good deal more than I've earned."

"You earns all of un, and more than you gets," insisted Mrs. Twig kindly. "'Tis wonderful fine to have you here with Toby, and we're gettin' to think so much you belongs to us 'twill be a rare hard thing to see you go. You lads better be startin' for Deer Harbour in the marnin'. You'll be reachin' Pinch-In Tickle by noon, whatever, with the fine footin' for the dogs, and Deer Harbour by night. Comin' back the next day you can bide the night at Pinch-In Tickle, and fetch back the fishin' gear that needs mendin', so 'twill be here to work on when they's time to work on un."

Charley and Toby were as excited as they could be, and that evening all arrangements were made for an early start in the morning. It was to be Charley's first long dog journey, and that night he lay awake a long time thinking of the wonderful journey he was to have, and of the new rifle he was to buy.

FOOTNOTE: [6] Sledge.

XIX

CHARLEY'S NEW RIFLE

Breakfast was eaten early, and long before daylight, which in that latitude does not come at this season until nearly ten o'clock. Toby and Charley brought the komatik box into the cabin that Mrs. Twig might pack it for them.

In a cotton bag as a protection, the precious marten pelts were stored in the bottom of the box. Then came the provisions consisting of hardtack, which would not freeze as would ordinary bread, tea, a bottle of molasses, a liberal quantity of salt pork, and the necessary cooking utensils. As a precaution in case of accident some extra duffle socks, and an extra pair of buckskin moccasins were included for each, and Toby added some cartridges for his rifle.

The box packed, it was lashed upon the rear of the komatik, and on the floor of the sledge, in front of the box, Toby spread an untanned caribou skin, and upon it lashed their sleeping bags, securing his rifle and an ax under the lashings, and tying to them his own and Charley's snowshoes.

"Look out for bad ice, and be wonderful careful on the ballicaders,"[7] cautioned Mrs. Twig, as Toby broke the komatik loose and the dogs dashed away down the decline to the bay ice.

A big full moon lighted the ice, which stretched before them for miles in an unbroken white sheet. Rime filled the air, and soon their clothing was coated with a film of frost. In the silvery moonlight they passed the black cliff of the Duck's Head. They were well down the bay when daylight came, and at last the sun rose, and its glorious rays set the rime-filled air shimmering like a veil of silver.

An hour before noon they reached Pinch-In Tickle, and stopped in the cabin to boil the kettle and eat a hasty luncheon. What memories it revived of the day when Charley first entered the door with Toby, and was first greeted by Skipper Zeb! How miserable a place in which to live Charley thought it then! How alone and deserted he felt! Now it appealed to him as not uncomfortable, and here he had found friends and a welcome; and the thought came to him that when the time to leave The Labrador came he would feel equally as badly at the leaving as he had at the entry.

Upon investigation, the ice in the tickle proved unsafe, and in the center there was some open water, where the tide surging in and out of the narrow passage had not permitted it to freeze.

In order, therefore, to reach the sea ice outside, it proved necessary to cross the low ridge of hills to the eastward of the cabin, which Charley and Toby had climbed on the day that the mail boat deserted Charley.

The ridge was bare of trees, and there was a hard coating of icy snow upon its rocky surface. From the cabins to the summit the slope was gradual, and with some help over the steeper places, the dogs hauled the komatik to the summit with little difficulty.

The descent to the sea ice on the opposite side was much more abrupt. Immediately it was begun, the komatik began to coast, and Toby threw a ring of braided walrus hide over the front end of one of the runners. This "drag," as he called it, was three feet in diameter and as thick as his wrist. The lower side of the ring, dragging back under the runner, was forced into the hard snow, and thus served to retard the komatik, but even then it gathered such speed that the dogs were forced to turn aside, lest it should run them down, and to race with it as fast as they could run. Toby threw himself upon his side upon the komatik, clinging to it with both hands, and sticking his heels into the snow at the side and in front of him, and running with the komatik at the same time, put forth all his strength to hold it back.

This is exceedingly dangerous work, as Charley realized. A single misstep might result in a broken leg, and even worse injury, and Charley held his breath in expectation that some such catastrophe would surely happen before they reached the bottom.

Once a dog's trace caught over a rock. The dog was sent sprawling, and Charley expected that the speeding komatik would strike and crush the helpless animal. But fortunately the trace slipped over the top of the rock just in time for the dog to escape, and in a moment it was on its feet again, racing with its companions.

They had covered two-thirds of the descent, when to their horror the boys saw a ribbon of black water, several yards in width, separating the shore from the sea ice. They were dashing directly toward it at tremendous speed, and Charley was sure that they could not avoid a plunge into its cold depths.

"Roll off!" Toby shouted.

Charley rolled clear of the speeding komatik, pitching over and over, and finally sliding to a stop, dazed and bewildered, but in time to see the komatik, bottom up, at the very brink of the chasm. Toby was sprawling just above it. The dogs, with traces taut, stood above him bracing themselves to hold the sledge from slipping farther.

"Oh!" cried Charley running down to Toby, who was up and righting the komatik before he could reach him, "I was sure we were going over!"

"We were wonderful close to un!" said Toby. "When you drops off, I jerks the front of the komatik and that makes she turn over and roll, and when I does un the dogs stops and holds fast. If 'tweren't for that we'd sure gone into the water and liker'n not been drowned."

"What'll we do now?" asked Charley. "We can't reach the sea ice."

"Follow the ballicaders," said Toby, indicating a narrow strip of ice hanging to the shore above the water. "'Twere careless of me not to think of the open water. This early in winter 'tis always like this above and below the tickle."

For nearly an hour they traveled upon the ice barricade. Sometimes it was so narrow that Charley's heart was in his mouth in fear that the komatik would slip over the brink. But Toby was a good driver, and at last they came in safety to the end of the water, with the ocean solidly frozen as far as they could see.

Here they turned upon the sea ice, and presently left the shore behind them to cross a wide bay. The sun was setting, and they were approaching land on the opposite shore of the bay, when Toby remarked:

"We're most there. Deer Harbour's just around that p'int you sees ahead."

Just before dusk they drove up to the little log house and trading store of Skipper Cyrus Blink, and glad enough they were to be met at the door by Skipper Blink, who greeted them most heartily, and helped them to unharness their dogs and unpack their komatik, and when they had fed the dogs ushered them into the warm cabin, where Mrs. Blink, who had seen them coming, had a pot of hot tea ready to pour and a "snack" to eat to "stay their stummiks" till supper would be ready.

Skipper Blink's store, or "shop" as he called it, was in a small room adjoining the living-room. It was a most primitive emporium of a most primitive frontier. Its stock of goods was limited to the necessities of the people, and consisted chiefly of flour, pork, molasses, duffle, practical clothing, arms and ammunition, with a pail of "sweets," or hard candies that at some remote date might have laid claim to being "fresh." It was a small branch shop of the Hudson's Bay Company's establishment known as the "Post" at Snow Inlet, some twenty miles to the northward, and Skipper Blink received from the Company a commission upon the trade which he did.

Charley could scarcely restrain his eagerness to hold in his hands the new rifle which he was to purchase, and when he and Toby had finished their "snack," he asked:

"Have you any guns for sale?"

"Aye," said the Skipper, "I has three shotguns in the shop and three rifles. What kind now would you be wantin'?"

"A rifle," said Charley. "Do you think I might see it now?"

"You can see un," answered the Skipper obligingly. "I'll fetch un right in here where 'tis warm. I has a forty-four carbine, a forty-five rifle and a thirty rifle. The forty-five would be a bit heavy for you. The forty-four is fine and light, and so is the thirty, and that's a wonderful far shootin' and strong shootin' gun, but the ca'tridges comes high."

"Thank you," said Charley, "I'd like to look at the rifles."

Accordingly Skipper Cy lighted a candle, and passed through the door leading to the shop, presently to return with the three rifles.

"Now here be the forty-four," said he, presenting the carbine for inspection. "'Tis a wonderful light fine gun for a lad."

"It's just like yours, isn't it, Toby?" Charley asked.

"Aye," said Toby, "the one I has is a forty-four carbine, just like this un."

"'Tis a fine rifle for any shootin'," explained Skipper Blink. "'Tis strong enough for deer or bear, if you hits un right, and 'tis fine for pa'tridges if you shoots un in the head. I finds un fine to hunt with, and 'tis not so costive as the others."

"Let me see the forty-five," suggested Charley. "That looks like a big, strong gun."

"Here 'tis now," and Skipper Blink handed it to Charley. "'Tis a wonderful sight stronger shootin' gun than the forty-four, but 'tis a bit too heavy for a lad like you to pack. 'Twould make for weariness, packin' she all day."

"It is heavy," agreed Charley, returning it to Skipper Blink, and eyeing the thirty caliber. "May I see the other one?"

"Aye, and there 'tis now. She's the best, and I keeps she for the last," said Skipper Blink proudly, as he delivered it into Charley's hands. "_She's_ a rifle now. She's the best and strongest shootin' gun I ever sees."

"This isn't heavy," said Charley. "I like it mighty well. Try it, Toby, and see what you think of it."

"She is fine and light," said Toby. "I likes un better'n the forty-four."

"So do I, ever so much," said Charley taking it back from Toby, and handling it caressingly.

"You knows a good gun when you sees un, lad," flattered Skipper Blink. "I were thinkin' when you asks to see un that you'd be pickin' that un, and I were sayin' to myself, 'There's a lad now what knows a gun, and he'll be wantin' the thirty.' But 'tis the most costive of all of un."

"I'll take it anyhow," agreed Charley, fondling the arm, quite sure that his happiness depended upon owning it, and recognizing it as the undoubted aristocrat of the three.

"That's right, lad," beamed the Skipper. "When the bullet from that un hits a deer, you'll be gettin' the deer, whatever. Let me get a bit o' rag and wipe the grease off of she. And we'll take the ramrod and wipe out the barrel. 'Tis clogged full o' grease, and if you shoots she without cleanin' she out 'tis like to split she."

When Skipper Cy had cleaned the gun to his satisfaction he handed it to Charley, with the suggestion:

"You'll be needin' some ca'tridges--a hundred, whatever."

"I'll take a hundred and fifty," said Charley proudly.

"They comes twenty in a box," advised the Skipper. "If you takes seven boxes 'twill do you. 'Tis all I has."

"Very well," agreed Charley.

It was Charley's first gun. He fondled it and handled it, and scarce put it down until Mrs. Blink announced supper, and they sat down to an appetizing meal of bruise.[8] Both boys were hungry, and Skipper Cy urged them to eat.