CHAPTER III

CAUGHT IN THE SNOW-STORM

"WHAT makes it so dark, Bob?" asked the younger brother, as they finished tying up the best part of the venison in the skin which had been removed from the deer.

"Night is coming on ahead of time, and I reckon it will be one we'll not forget in a hurry, either," replied the other, calmly; for Robert seldom gave way to excitement, leaving that to Sandy.

"Then the sooner we find some place for a camp the better," remarked the latter. "The wind keeps growing colder all the while, and it bites like a knife when it drives the hail against your face. Do you know, I think I heard a wolf howl a little while ago?"

"That would hardly be surprising," was Bob's reply as he shouldered the meat wrapped up in the deerskin, leaving to his brother the two muskets and the small game. "It was only a few days ago that Amiel Teene had an adventure with the pests not ten miles away from his cabin."

"Yes, and he said he had never seen them so savage," declared Sandy, glancing around at the snowy forest, as if in imagination he could already see a host of gaunt gray forms leaping toward them.

"The winter has been unusually long and hard, and, as we happen to know, Sandy, game has been scarce. Perhaps it was so up in the mountains, and the animals have been pushed to venture nearer the settlements than at most times. This storm will make them even worse."

"Then, if we should meet a pack to-night, the scent of this fresh meat would make them crazy to get at us," said Sandy, reflectively, as he fell in alongside his brother.

"Yes, I can easily believe it," grunted the larger youth, who had quite a load on his back, and could afford just then to expend little of his wind in conversation.

"And perhaps we might have to take to a tree, just as I did two years ago, waiting for dawn to drive the critters away; eh, Bob?"

"Not on such a night as this, brother," remarked the one addressed. "You forget that it was not bitter cold weather when you met with your little experience. To-night, if we climbed into a tree, we might freeze to death before morning."

"Then what can we do? I am sure I heard a far-off howl again just then; and perhaps those sharp-nosed rascals have already scented a dinner," and Sandy pushed a little closer to his companion, deeply stirred.

It was no imaginary peril that hung over their heads. A single wolf might play the part of a coward, and shrink from mankind; but when gathered in a pack the beasts became an object of dread to every settler on the border. More than one man, in the history of Virginia, had been dragged down by starving wolves; and of all times of the year the end of a hard winter was the worst.

"I had thought of that, Sandy," the elder brother went on; "and remembered that, just before we sighted the deer, I had seen a place that offered us a refuge. It is toward that point I am now trying to lead the way. Keep your eyes open for a fallen tree. I think we must be near the spot right now."

"And there it is," announced Sandy, joyfully, as he pointed ahead.

They were in fact right upon it, though the sifting, driving snow had, up to that moment, hidden from their eager eyes all signs of the wished-for goal.

And when Sandy saw what a fortress was afforded them by the hole in the ground, where the roots of the tree had once grown, he was ready to throw up his cap and shout with satisfaction.

At some time in the remote past a great wind storm had evidently uprooted this forest monarch; but, in falling, it had not quite lain flat, so that, twenty feet from the roots, one might even walk underneath the trunk.

A great cavity had been torn in the earth, and, as it happened that the upturned roots and the trunk were toward the storm, the barrier would afford a fine shelter against its biting force.

There, in the opening left by the uprooting of the great tree, they could make themselves fairly comfortable. Sandy even saw possibilities for fortifying themselves within the hole, so that they might defy an attack on the part of the fiercest pack of wolves that ever roamed through those woods.

The boys immediately set to work with a vim. They had travelled many miles during the progress of the hunt, and it might reasonably be expected that both would be tired; but one would never dream of such a thing, judging from the vigor with which they hewed firewood, and proceeded to arrange their novel camp.

Accustomed to roughing it from early childhood, Bob and his brother asked but little in order to find a reasonable degree of comfort. Given a fire and a warm bite to eat, they envied not a king his crown. And, if the bite were lacking, why, the fire was not to be sneezed at. In those early days boys knew nothing of luxuries.

While Sandy labored with the heavy camp hatchet, the elder brother began to get the fire underway, for long practice had made him an expert with flint and steel. Some small sticks were heaped up in a loose manner, and a bit of dry tinder shoved under it; then, with several deft strokes of the steel, sparks were sent into its inflammable heart, and a tiny blaze sprang up, which was fostered until it had seized upon the larger wood.

Things began to look much more comfortable to the young pioneers after that fire shed its ruddy glow upon their camp. And when Bob had sliced several fair portions of the fresh venison, and had thrust them near the fire on the ends of long splinters of wood, the odor that presently began to arise made Sandy sniff the air, and try to restrain his voracious appetite.

They had nothing to drink with the meal. Tea was worth too much at that time for boys to carry any of the precious stuff off on their tramps; and as for coffee, it was an almost unknown beverage with the colonists.

After all, as the famous Daniel Boone was often heard to declare, it was astonishing what few actual necessities primitive man must have in order to keep him in fighting trim. And Boone patterned his life after the redmen of that country beyond the mountain chain, of whom he probably knew more than any living border man of the day.

"This is fine," observed Sandy, a little later.

They were sitting close to the fire and devouring their roast venison with infinite gusto. No doubt the pampered boy of to-day might hardly have relished the rude fare; but these pioneer lads were made of different stuff, and thankful for exceedingly small things.

"Yes," replied Bob quietly; "but we must get to work quickly, and add to the pile of firewood, as well as barricade the open side of the hole."

"Did you hear it, too?" demanded his brother, instantly.

"Yes, and more than one wolf answered the long howl. They are sending signals across the forest. I think we will have visitors before the night is over."

Sandy hurried through the remainder of his primitive supper, almost bolting the last few morsels. Then he once more started to make good use of the sharp hatchet. While he worked after this fashion his brother began to search for objects with which to fill up the gap to leeward as much as possible.

"Good!" Sandy presently heard him exclaim from the midst of the blinding snow close by. "Here lie several old logs. This way, and give me a hand. They will make a grand fort."

It required considerable effort to drag the half-rotted logs into position; but where there is a will there is nearly always a way, and in the end the object of their desires was accomplished.

"Could hardly be much better, I take it," was Sandy's enthusiastic comment, as he stood back and surveyed the result of their labors.

"No, and I wager it would be a pretty rash wolf that would dare try to leap that barrier," remarked his brother, now taking a turn with the hatchet, as the size of the pile of fuel did not altogether please him, with a long night ahead and that bitter wind rushing through the woods.

Finally both were too wearied to attempt anything more, so they sat down alongside the cheery blaze, to rest ere trying to sleep. One might think it rather a hazardous thing to lose themselves in slumber without any covering; but they knew many of the tricks of the pioneers of the day, and that, if they kept their feet warm, all would be well. Besides, both boys had been warmly clad when starting forth on their search for game, for they had an industrious mother, whose spinning-wheel seldom knew a day's rest. (Note 3.)

It was decided that a watch must be kept, since they were surrounded by so many perils. If the fire went out they might have a foot or hand frozen, and the absence of the blaze must encourage the forest howlers to make an attack, eager to secure a share of that fresh venison.

Bob had placed the meat, again wrapped up in the skin, as far back as possible under the matted roots of the fallen monarch of the forest. Both boys were grimly determined that they would fight desperately to retain possession of their prize, since that store of food meant much to the dear ones back at the humble cabin home.

"What are you thinking about, Bob?" asked Sandy, as he watched the play of the fire across his brother's resolute face, and noted the expression, almost wistful, that came upon it at times.

"It was about father," he replied, speaking the word tenderly, for David Armstrong had ever been a kind and affectionate parent, and was fairly worshipped by his little flock.

"Yes, I knew that was it," said Sandy, quickly. "Oh! I do hope he has been successful in finding work to-day, for he declared it would be the last time he would try. What do you suppose we can do if he fails, Bob?"

"There is only one thing," came the reply, with compressed lips; "we must leave here, and go further west. I know father is thinking seriously about it. The last time that jolly trapper, Pat O'Mara, was here, father questioned him often about the stories he had heard Colonel Boone tell of that wonderful country beyond the mountains, and the beautiful Ohio River."

"I think I should like that," observed the impetuous Sandy, always eager to see new sights, and filled with the enthusiasm of a light-hearted boy. "If half they say about that country be true, it must be glorious. And the hunting and trapping we could do, Bob! Yes, I hope father decides to join fortunes with the first company of people passing through here."

Bob said no more. He knew that the little mother would be sorry to break many ties; but also that she would utter no word to dissuade her husband, when the time came. And perhaps the more thoughtful Bob could also foresee better than Sandy what new perils might await the daring pilgrims who ventured into the hunting-grounds of the warlike Shawanee Indians.

Presently he made Sandy lie down to snatch an hour's sleep, when he promised to awaken him so that he in turn might watch. This rule was carried out, and each of them had managed to secure quite a little sleep by the time the night was two-thirds passed.

It was Sandy's turn on guard. The fire was burning briskly, the storm seemed to be slackening up somewhat, and everything looked so promising that the boy grew a trifle careless. He allowed himself to doze beside the fire, his musket between his knees. This was, after all, hardly to be wondered at, as any one knows who, being desperately in need of sleep, tries to withstand the soothing heat of a warm blaze.

Perhaps Sandy may have been dreaming of boyish troubles with some of the young fellows of the town, once their warm friends, but just now commencing to ape their parents in turning the cold shoulder toward the Armstrong family.

Be that as it may, Sandy awoke with a start. He found the fire had gone down so that only now and then a tongue of flame shot upward from the log that had been burning so fiercely the last thing he remembered.

And, as some grinding sound caught his ear, he glanced up and discovered a half circle of gleaming yellow eyes watching him from over the top of the barricade!