CHAPTER XXVII

FIRE FANCIES

PERHAPS they were taking some chances as they sat there by their fire that evening; but there was no help for it. Being without blankets or any furs to keep them warm when sleep overcame them, they dared not risk being frozen as the cold became more intense with the passing of the night.

Roger meant to show as cheery a face as he could, but somehow he could not seem to think of anything but the delights of eating. It is doubtless so with all who have been deprived of their customary food for an unusual time.

"Do you know, Dick," he said, as he sat hugging his knees and staring into the crackling flames, "I was just thinking how, many a night, when the wind would be whistling around the corners of our cabin, Sister Mary and myself used to sit and look into a roaring fire like this, one on either side of the big hearth. I can picture her sitting there to-night, with mother and father close by. And, Dick, perhaps they are talking about us, wondering whether they will ever see us again."

Dick moved uneasily as he listened, for, to tell the truth, his thoughts had also gone roaming back to the dearly loved home, and in imagination he was following the forms of his mother, father and brother, as they moved to and fro in the well-remembered living room.

Immediately afterwards Roger's plaint took another turn, induced no doubt by the feeling of emptiness that caused him such uneasiness.

"Yes, and it seems to me I can even catch the fine odor of the stew that is cooking in the big black pot swinging over the fire, with the lid lifting to let out the clouds of steam. And oh! Dick, how splendid it used to smell, too! What wouldn't I give to be sitting down with a plate of it heaped up before me, some of mother's tea in a tin cup and a plate of her fried sweet-cakes to top off with."

Once Roger got started on that strain he seemed to take especial delight in recollections of about every feast in which he had ever indulged. Dick let him talk on undisturbed. How vividly he himself could recall all those special occasions, when they had attended some country dance among the settlers' young folks at harvest home times. The faces of all the absent friends came clearly before him and, spurred on by Roger's graphic descriptions, it seemed almost possible to get a whiff of the fresh bread being taken from the big old Dutch oven in which, as a small child, Dick had so often hidden from his companions when they played games.

Roger prattled on as the hour grew late. It seemed as though his recollections had no limit, judging from the way in which he kept calling up events of happy days.

But finally Dick began to notice that he faltered now and then, and his eyes gave evidences of approaching drowsiness. The warmth of the fire was getting in its work and in the end Roger stretched out, "just to rest his back a bit," as he explained to his companions. He soon began to breathe regularly and Dick knew that he slept.

For a time at least the hungry boy would forget his gnawing pains, though possibly his dreams would take on the joys of a feast, and the awakening be all the more bitter in consequence.

"Poor Roger!" Dick said to himself, as he leaned over and gently drew the flap of the sleeper's tunic closer about his neck, "I wish I had it in my power to provide a substantial meal against your waking up; but where it is to come from, unless it rains down from above, I fail to see."

It was just like the generous nature of Dick Armstrong to forget his own condition in feeling for another; Roger was as dear to him as his own brother could be, since they had shared each other's joys and sorrows ever since they were able to exchange confidences and fight each other's battles.

That long night would never be forgotten, though they lived to an old age. Little sleep visited Dick's eyes. This came partly from his sense of hunger, but also on account of the serious condition that confronted them.

Their long quest seemed to have been wrecked on the rocks, and that after success had appeared to crown their efforts, which made it all the harder to bear. Although Dick would not appear downcast while Roger could see his face, he had numerous doubts to wrestle with in the silence of the night, and secretly groaned in spirit many times.

During his wakeful hours he often caught the distant howling of a wolf pack. This coming of the first deep snow of the winter would make their task of securing daily food the more difficult, and it seemed to the listener that there was an additional mournfulness to those long-drawn sounds.

Once he also caught the scream of some other beast in the pine woods. Although it was not repeated, Dick believed it must have come from a panther seeking his prey amidst the snowy aisles of the forest.

Mayhew, too, must have been wakeful, for several times when Dick happened to be dozing he arose and threw more wood on the fire.

When the stars told Dick morning was at hand he felt as though a terrible load had been taken from his mind. With ten hours of daylight before them they must surely be able to obtain meat and satisfy their craving for food.

While the other two were sitting cross-legged by the fire, and talking in low tones, Roger suddenly sat up. He stared hard at them, and dug his knuckles into his eyes, as though he could not believe what he saw.

Dick knew from the indications that he must have been far away in his sleep, and that the disappointment struck him cruelly.

"So, it was all a dream after all, and mother was not calling me to get up or the griddle cakes would be cold?" Roger remarked, dolefully. "Oh, how fine they used to taste, with that wild honey smeared over them! Do you remember the time when we brought in four heaping buckets of honey from that bee-tree up on Juniper Creek, and how my left eye was closed by a sting? But never was there such sweet stuff. And to think that we have to go without a bite of breakfast this cold morning!"

"Just as soon as it gets a little lighter," said Dick, "we will be on the move."

"Searching for something to eat, you mean, don't you?"

"Yes, whether it is that stray buffalo, or an elk, we will not be very particular which," the other declared.

"Why, I think I could eat a--a wolf, almost, I'm that caved in," declared Roger, and no doubt he meant it, too.

The dawn was at hand. Eagerly they watched the pink flush spreading across the eastern sky. With a change in the wind they could hear a distinct muttering sound, and it was easy to picture some gushing geyser in action, perhaps miles away.

Just as soon as they could see without trouble they turned their backs on Camp Hope, and were soon following the trail of the buffalo.

"If I thought we would have any trouble about getting a supply of wood, so as to start a fire in a hurry after we get our meat," Roger observed before they abandoned the camp, "I'd be tempted to tote some of this good fuel on my back."

"No need of doing anything like that," Dick assured him. "If there is anything that is plentiful around here it is fuel for a fire. I already have some small bits of choice stuff laid away for a time of need."

The wind had shifted the surface of the dry snow to some extent, so that in places they found the tracks of the buffalo almost covered. But Mayhew was a born trailer, and found no difficulty in following the animal.

"You see," he told the boys at one time, "this may be a good thing for us, because we can tell where the beast started fresh this morning."

It was not twenty minutes after he made this remark when the scout joyously showed them where the buffalo had spent the night. They could plainly see the imprint of his hairy coat in the snow where he had lain down. The cold had no particular terror for such a rugged beast and, as he went on in about the same general direction as his previous trail, they believed they were right in assuming that the buffalo, through instinct, knew where forage was to be found, and was heading thither.

All possible haste was now made by the three pursuers. It meant much to them that they presently overtake the quarry, or else run upon some other game.

Roger was already feeling weak from lack of food. Only his will power enabled him to keep alongside the others in that hot chase. He strained his vision to the utmost, in the endeavor to be the first to discover signs of the welcome presence of the big animal with the shaggy mane, which it seemed was their only hope of staving off starvation.

When crows again flew overhead and continued their scornful cawing, Roger several times aimed his empty gun up at them, as though he would have liked to give the impudent birds of ill omen something to remember him by.

"I really believe they must know we have so little ammunition that nothing could tempt us to waste a grain of powder on them this day," he declared, angrily, when the clamor of crow scolding grew worse.

"Oh! at another time you would hardly pay any attention to them," Dick told him. "Just now all of us feel a bit nervous, and ugly. Let them scold if it does them any good. We haven't yet reached the point where we could eat crow, even if we felt like wasting a shot on one."

It was sensible advice, and, just as Dick prophesied, the noisy flock was soon left in their wake.

"I've heard some queer stories about crows," Mayhew remarked, "and how they even hold a court to try some bird that has been bad. Once I found a crow hanging by the neck dead in a wild grape-vine. Of course I could never tell if it got there by accident, or was hanged by its mates; but lots of people I told the story to said it looked mighty suspicious."

Dick laughed a little at that, but went on:

"I've sat in the woods many a time, myself, and watched a gathering of crows. It seemed as though they came by squads from everywhere until there were hundreds fluttering about the trees. And such a terrible noise they kept up! It made me think of school when we have spelling bees, and everybody is trying to call out at the same time."

"Yes," added Roger, trying to take some interest in things that would cause him to forget his misery for even a brief period of time, "and then they would fly off in a great cloud, dodging this way and that as though it might be an army going to attack the fort of an enemy. Yes, they are queer birds; but I don't like them to make fun of me when I'm sick for something to eat."

"They acted to me as if they were warning us to go back!" suggested Mayhew, a little uneasily. "I wonder why, and if there's anything up this way that would give us trouble."

"It's open country just here," said Roger, "and nothing terrible in sight. But I'd give a heap if we could only overtake that loping buffalo. You said a while ago, didn't you, Mayhew, that he could only be fifteen minutes or so ahead of us?"

"That is what his tracks tell me," the guide assented, "and we are coming up on him all the while. If we fail to see him in the next half hour I will be a disappointed man."

"Why, I must be getting weak on my pins, for it seems as if the ground was trembling under me!" declared Roger, showing signs of sudden alarm.

Dick and the guide exchanged hasty glances. Apparently they were feeling something of a similar nature, but could not lay it to the same cause as Roger.

"It is getting much worse now," cried Mayhew, "and I can hear a terrible grumbling down underneath me that I must say I don't like over much!"

All of them were by this time aroused to a sense of their sudden peril; but it was Dick who voiced the alarming truth.

"Run for your lives!" he shouted, "it must be a boiling fountain about to burst, and we are right on top of the crater!"