CHAPTER XV

THE END OF THE TRAIL

I had thought the matter out many times already and had decided to set forth well provided with food, with all my weapons, my necessary utensils, and a supply of tanned skin, for I had no idea of how far I might have to tramp or how long I might be on the journey.

Few as were my possessions, yet I found that to carry them all would be impossible and that many things which would be of great help to me would have to be left behind. Among these were the pot and the grindstone and the bear-skin robe, and as I thought with regret of abandoning these a scheme came to me of utilizing Lobo as a pack-horse. But tame and good-natured as he was, the wolf would have none of this, and snarled, snapped, and bristled threateningly when I started to strap a load upon his back by way of experiment.

After all, the objects I must leave were not essential, and without them I would be far better off and more comfortable than during the early part of my wilderness life. The bear-skin, to be sure, would be a great comfort during the chilly spring nights, but I was well clad and a hare-skin undercoat would keep me warm enough, while I could broil my food, or even boil it in birch-bark dishes as well as I could cook it in the pot. The grindstone would be utterly useless, I knew, but I had grown to depend upon it so much and by its aid had been able to solve so many problems that I dreaded to think of being without it. However, it was useless to fret over the matter; the less I carried the sooner I would be out of the woods, and I had now become so self-reliant and so accustomed to overcoming difficulties that I had little fear of suffering on the way.

When at last I was sure the weather had settled and when the soggy, water-soaked ground had dried sufficiently to make walking possible, I gathered up my weapons, shouldered my packs, closed the door of the cabin which had sheltered me so long, and, with Lobo trotting beside me, bade good-by to my wilderness home.

At a turn of the old trail I stopped for a last look at the little hut and a lump rose in my throat at thought of leaving the place forever. It had served me well, the woods and waters had been kind to me, and I was about to turn my back on the only home I had known for many months and to start into the unknown.

It was a bright spring morning; birds were twittering among the swelling buds of trees and bushes, the sun was warm, and all about were signs of nature springing into life and beauty once more.

The broad green leaves of skunk cabbage spread above the black peat by the lake, jack-in-the-pulpits reared their straight stems and unfolding leaves beside rocks and fallen trees, pale pink and lavender hepaticas peeped through the fallen leaves on sunny slopes, and trailing-arbutus vines were rich with odorous, waxen blooms. It was a day to make one happy and light-hearted, to fill man or beast with the very joy of living, and Lobo gamboled and frolicked about, chasing imaginary rabbits into the thickets, yelping at the red squirrels who mocked him from the branches overhead, and betweenwhiles trotting back and forth with keen nose to earth as if seeking for some trail to follow.

I also felt that it was good to be afield on such a glorious morning, and, laughing at Lobo’s antics, talking to him as to an intelligent being, whistling gaily, and filled with happiness as I realized that each step was bringing me nearer to the end of my trail, I swung rapidly ahead through the forest.

It was not long before we came in sight of the lonely, deserted buildings I had found during the winter, and as Lobo saw them he bristled up, howled, and, placing his tail between his legs, slunk at my heels. Although I knew that I must pass this spot on my way, yet I dreaded to approach it, and Lobo’s actions added to my unreasonable fear and gave me a sort of “creepy” sensation, for somehow I could not shake off the foolish idea that he saw or heard things which were invisible to me.

Perhaps it was the shadow of death which hung over it, perhaps it was the contrast of the lifeless gray buildings with the bright sunshine and joyous spring air, or perhaps it was pure imagination on my part, but somehow the place seemed uncanny and unnatural. In the little space between the buildings the gaunt, bare cross rose upward, sharply outlined against the dark background of the distant woods, and now I saw that round about it were many smaller boards projecting from the ground. For some minutes I hesitated, standing within the shelter of the woods, while Lobo whined cringingly beside me, for I could scarce bring myself to step forth into the clearing, to pass that tiny graveyard, and to run the gauntlet of those blank, staring windows and doors. But pass them I must if I was to reach the farther side where the trail led into the forest, and finally, summoning up my courage and calling myself a fool and worse, I started forward.

I had never believed in haunted houses, I scoffed at ghosts and everything that savored of the supernatural, and I had no patience with superstitions, but, ridiculous as it seems to me now, I could not help glancing furtively to right and left as we walked through that deserted village in the wilderness and gave the pitiful little graveyard a wide berth. I tried to argue with myself, to pooh-pooh my own foolishness, and to try to make myself believe it was merely the dread of smallpox that troubled me, and in a measure I succeeded. We had passed the graveyard, had left most of the buildings behind, and were approaching the entrance to an old wood road on the farther side. I breathed an involuntary sigh of relief to think that in a moment more we would be in the woods with the village behind us. Suddenly, as we came abreast of the last house with the patch of dead corn behind it, the door of the building swung open with a bang, and the dried stalks of corn swayed and rustled as if some object was tearing through them. In my heart I knew it was but a sudden gust of wind, but as Lobo uttered a melancholy howl and dashed past me I lost all control of myself and, taking to my heels, tore after him as fast as I could run. Not until I was a hundred yards down the road and the village was out of sight did I cease my wild race, and, overcoming my silly fright, seated myself upon a stump to regain my breath.

Lobo was nowhere to be seen, but presently he came trotting back along the old road, looking heartily ashamed of himself and wagging his tail and fawning about me as if to ask forgiveness for his behavior.

It all seems very childish and unpardonably silly of me, as I look back upon it now, but at the time it was real and a most unpleasant experience. Many animals seem to have an instinctive dread of a spot where human beings have lived and died. Lobo undoubtedly possessed such a fear, and I had lived so long in the woods and had been such a close companion of the wolf that perhaps I had developed this same unreasoning terror—it is the only excuse I can offer, the only way I can account for my sensations on that spring morning.

But the place was left behind. Our spirits rose again and, shouldering my packs, I resumed my journey.

The trail was easy to follow, for it had evidently once served as a logging-road, and for hour after hour we plodded on. That such a road must inevitably lead to the settlements I felt sure, for no one would have wasted time and labor in cutting a wide road for hauling lumber unless it led out of the forest. Even if it led me to an isolated sawmill or a rude lumbermen’s camp it would serve my purpose.

At noon we stopped to rest and ate our midday meal of venison, and once more started on. My back ached from carrying the unaccustomed load of my packs, and my feet were sore. I had never walked long distances since finding the log cabin, and during most of the time I had traveled on snow-shoes.

The road wound and turned about and in several places forked or branched, and I was often in doubt as to which trail to take. The only way was to investigate, and I went many miles out of my way, only to find that these side trails led merely to cleared spots where the trees had been felled and cut for timber.

But while it was disappointing to be led astray, yet the presence of the cleared spaces and the diverging roads encouraged me greatly, for I knew that I was no longer in the heart of the vast wilderness, but was in a district which had been visited by large numbers of men and it could not be very far from the outposts of civilization.

How long a time had passed since the road had been cut or the lumbermen had labored here I could only guess, but the size of the young shoots which had sprung up, the moss and lichens which had grown upon the rotting stumps and discarded branches of the felled trees, and the thickets or brush which had partially obliterated the roadway convinced me that no active work had been carried on here for several years. This rather surprised and discouraged me, for I could see no reason for abandoning work, since there was an abundance of good timber still standing, and I rather feared that only a deserted camp or a burned and abandoned mill might lie at the end of my journey. However, I argued that there were many other reasons which might account for the matter. Perhaps, I thought, the lumbermen had been stealing timber from government land and had been driven off, or possibly better transportation facilities in some other district had made lumbering less profitable here. Finally I contented myself with the thought that even if I found no inhabited camp or village at the end of the trail there must, at least, be a large river, an old railway, or a well-marked lumber road leading out to civilization, and once I struck this my way would be easy.

About mid-afternoon I heard the sound of rushing water ahead, and a few moments later we came to the banks of a river with the road leading directly to the water’s edge. Before me stretched a hundred feet of tumbling, foaming torrent, and on the farther bank, opposite to where I stood, I could plainly see the continuation of the old wood road.

I was as badly off as ever, and, thoroughly disheartened, I threw myself upon the ground. Evidently to follow the road and escape from the forest I must cross the stream, and I realized how inexcusably stupid I had been not to have thought of this contingency before. I might have known that the lumber road had been used in winter and that on the ice the loads of timber could be hauled across brooks and rivers which would be impassable now, but not until I had been brought face to face with such conditions did the idea enter my head.

No doubt, I thought, the stream might be forded later in the season, for it was now abnormally high with the spring freshets. But I was in no mood to wait for weeks, or perhaps months, for the water to fall enough to allow me to wade across, and I knew that to attempt to swim through the icy current would be suicidal and would result in the loss of my outfit, even if I reached the other side alive. There seemed to be but one thing to be done, which was to walk up the stream to some narrower, shallower spot where it could be forded, and then, after crossing, retrace my way on the farther side until I once more came to the road. Sooner or later I knew that I must find a point where I could cross in safety, and as anything was better than sitting here and cursing my luck, I rose and proceeded up the river.

Had the stream been slightly lower I could have followed its shores at the edge of the woods and traveling would have been comparatively easy, but with the river in flood the water swept to the trees along the borders and I was compelled to make my way through the forest.

For hour after hour I trudged steadily on, encouraged somewhat by finding the river was decreasing in width and that here and there ledges and boulders jutted above the surface of the waters.

The sun was sinking low in the west, the shadows were lengthening, and I was considering the advisability of making camp for the night when Lobo uttered a sharp yelp, lifted his nose in the air, and rushed off diagonally through the woods. Feeling sure that something unusual must have attracted him and with a half-formed hope that it was a human being or an occupied habitation, I forgot my weariness and hurried after him.

The wolf was now out of sight, but I could hear him yelping a short distance away, and presently I saw him standing at the edge of the woods, wagging his tail and jumping about as if greatly excited. Beyond him was open sky and my heart beat fast with anticipation, for I knew that he was at the edge of a clearing which indicated the presence of man.

A moment later I was by his side and, looking from the woods, gasped in astonishment, for at the farther side of the open space stood my own log cabin!

For a few seconds I stood motionless, feeling as if I had taken leave of my senses, and I rubbed my eyes and stared again to see if my vision had not played me false. It seemed incredible that I should once more be gazing at the same spot from which I had departed so many hours before, but there was not the slightest doubt about it. There stood the hut I knew so well. I recognized the familiar trees and landmarks about it, and beyond, glimmering like molten gold in the rays of the setting sun, were the distant waters of the lake.

I was thoroughly discouraged, tired, and disgusted to think that I had merely traveled in a vast circle, that since early morning I had been tramping for many weary miles over the old road when by following the river down for an hour or two I could have reached the end of the road where it was barred by the stream.

Hungry, footsore, and exhausted, I reached the cabin, tossed my belongings on the floor, and threw myself on my bunk.

Then, as Lobo, whining, licked my hand and looked inquiringly into my face, I rose, started the fire, and cooked our simple evening meal. The food did much to revive my spirits, and I comforted myself by thinking that, after all, the cabin was a far better spot to spend the night than an open camp; that I was no worse off than before, and that, knowing it was useless to follow the old road, I could seek a spot to cross the river close to my hut.

The next morning I made my way to the river, which I now knew was the outlet to the lake. I examined it carefully for a spot at which I might cross, but at its narrowest point it was far too wide and turbulent. Then it came to my mind that I might be able to ford the inlet to the lake, but as I remembered the wild, rough country which bordered the lake on its farther side I abandoned this idea. The next instant Lobo leaped up with a startled growl as I gave a shout of gladness, for I had thought of a way to solve the difficulty.

It was so simple, now I had thought of it, that I marveled it had not occurred to me sooner, for my scheme was to finish the raft I had begun the preceding autumn, cross the lake near the outlet, and thus reach the farther shore of the stream.

So firmly had I been convinced that I could _walk_ out of the wilderness by following the old trail that my original idea of a raft had been completely forgotten, but now that it had come to my mind, I lost no time in getting to work.

The logs which I had cut with so much labor were still where I had left them when I had met with my accident. I shuddered when I saw the heavy timber which had pinned me down and remembered the tortures I had suffered.

I would be more careful this time and would make haste slowly. As I was far better equipped to build a raft now than when I had first attempted the undertaking, I had little fear of the outcome.

My life in the woods had added greatly to my health and strength and I found little difficulty in handling logs which had formerly resisted all my efforts.

But despite this, many hours were required to cut the logs by the slow process of burning, for I was obliged to cut several, since those which I had rolled to the lake in the autumn had been carried away by the ice.

Then came the hard, tedious work of rolling the logs to the water, but at the close of the second day I had the satisfaction of seeing eight lengths of logs floating on the lake and securely moored to the bank.

I had learned much during the months which had passed since I first reached the lake, and I went about building my raft with far greater confidence and greater skill than would have been possible the preceding autumn.

Slipping strong pieces of saplings beneath the floating logs, I lashed the projecting ends securely to corresponding crosspieces above the logs, and I also passed withes of willow around these pieces between each two logs. To draw these lashings taut and to secure the logs firmly I slipped short sticks through the withes, twisted them tightly, and bound them in position, and as the wood and lashings swelled in the water the strips of bark and twisted withes grew as hard and tight as wire.

But even then I was not satisfied, for I found that there was considerable play in the logs, and that instead of remaining rectangular in form the raft had a tendency to assume a diamond-shape.

As I had no wish to be dropped into the icy waters of the lake on my voyage, I placed numerous saplings diagonally across the raft, from corner to corner, lashed these firmly to the logs and crosspieces, secured another row of diagonal pieces above these in the opposite direction, and then found that the raft was as stiff, strong, and solid as one could wish.

Nearly a week had passed while I labored at my rude craft when at last it was finished and I prepared to set forth. I felt as if I was about to start on a voyage of discovery. Indeed, it was in truth a voyage of discovery, for beyond the waters of the little lake was a new and unknown land which I felt held greater reward for me than Columbus sought for when he sailed westward in his caravels.

And, like Columbus, I had trouble with my crew, and mutiny threatened even before the voyage commenced, for Lobo refused to go aboard and no amount of coaxing, threats, or argument would induce him to change his mind.

I hated to leave him behind, but I could scarce afford to remain a Crusoe of the wilderness on his account, and, thinking he might overcome his fears when he saw I was actually abandoning him, I cast off the fastenings of the raft and with a long pole pushed it a few yards from shore.

Instantly the wolf set up a dismal howl and ran up and down the shore, evidently in great distress at seeing me depart, and, feeling that he had learned a lesson, I pushed the end of the raft against the bank. But no sooner did the logs grate upon the beach than the rascal retreated to a safe distance and, squatting upon his haunches, grinned at me with his great red tongue hanging from his mouth.

Evidently the wolf considered it was some sort of a game and had no intention of taking the matter seriously, and, somewhat irritated at his behavior, I again poled the raft away from shore. For a few moments Lobo looked at me curiously, evidently expecting me to return, and then, finding the space of water was steadily widening between raft and shore, he plunged into the lake and swam after me. I at once ceased to propel the raft and waited for the wolf to come alongside and clamber aboard, but he showed no intention of doing this and kept well out of reach, evidently preferring to trust to his own powers rather than to my makeshift vessel.

The raft floated buoyantly and the crisscross layers of saplings kept my feet dry and above the water which slopped over the logs and I was soon well out upon the lake. And then I discovered that I had overlooked a most important matter and that by my carelessness and short-sightedness I was in imminent peril.

I had trusted to poling the raft across the lake, but the bottom was now beyond my reach, I had no oars or paddle, and my raft was drifting steadily in the sweep of the current toward the outlet of the lake.

Furiously I strove to paddle the clumsy craft with the pole, but my efforts only served to whirl the raft round and round, and each moment it was drawing nearer to the rushing river and its speed was increasing.

I was now filled with real terror, and not without reason, for the stream flowed from the lake in rocky rapids and I realized that in a few moments I would be drawn into the torrent, that my raft would be dashed to pieces on the jagged rocks, and that I would be left struggling hopelessly in the icy current.

Then, just as the raft shot toward the maelstrom my pole touched bottom, I threw all my weight upon it with a last, despairing shove, the raft lurched, tipped, and plunged, and the next instant I was thrown, spluttering and surprised, but safe, into a shallow backwater.

Scrambling to my feet, for the water was scarce six inches deep, I splashed ashore, and, glancing back, saw my raft, splintered and rent, bobbing among the foam and rocks of the rapids.

It was a close shave, but I had accomplished my purpose and at last was on the southern side of the lake, and a moment later Lobo came bounding to my side and shaking the water from his shaggy coat.

My pack containing provisions and hides had gone with the raft, for I had slipped it from my shoulder to more easily handle the pole, but I still retained my precious bow and arrows and I discovered my spear sticking in the shallow water where it had been cast by the final lurch of the raft.

With my weapons and fire-making appliances intact I had little cause to worry over the loss of my supplies. Thankful that I had escaped with so little damage, I set off down the banks of the stream.

To my left a high, wooded hill rose steeply, but the forest by the riverside was fairly open and level, and I had little trouble in making my way down-stream, although several times I was obliged to make wide detours to avoid jutting ledges and ramparts of rock.

In a few hours I reached the spot where the old wood road ended at the river’s bank and, turning to the south, I left the brawling stream behind and entered the old trail.

On either side were lofty, wooded hills, and these increased in height and steepness until, when some five miles from the river, I found myself in a deep, narrow cleft or pass. Then, rounding a precipitous, rock-strewn promontory, the road entered a wider valley with a low, rounded hill on the farther side and with a tiny brook babbling through the center.

Stepping to one side, I approached the brook to drink, when suddenly I stopped short—listening with bated breath and thumping heart, for my ears had caught a faint, far-away sound of marvelous import—the whistle of a locomotive! Then breaking into a run, I tore madly up the hillside, with Lobo at my heels.

I reached the summit, peered through the thicket, and looked upon a broad, fair valley with a silvery river winding through its fresh green meadows.

Wildly, insanely, I shouted in a very delirium of joy, for gleaming in the soft spring sunshine were the white buildings and shingled roofs of a little village.

Tears of happiness welled to my eyes as I stood feasting my gaze upon the scene and then the hoarse screech of the locomotive again roared out and a train thundered past the base of the hill at my feet.

It was too much for Lobo, and with a terrified howl he turned and sped back to the wild, leaving me standing alone upon the threshold of civilization.

THE END

End of Project Gutenberg's Marooned in the Forest, by A. Hyatt Verrill