Part 13

Soon the dogs began to tire, and it was only by persistent effort that I could keep them from lying down in the snow. They were so weary, poor brutes, that it was cruelty to whip them; all I could do was to pat them and encourage them with my voice. Nellie tried to lick my frozen gauntlet, or, half in play, to bite my numbed hand.

Still I kept on, hoping against hope that I should soon see the light in the Faith Creek cabin. I kept shouting, but all the answer I got was a mocking echo. Blundering through snow-drifts, with the wind-blown snow driving against my face like particles of glass, the dogs panting with exertion or moaning from the pain of their lacerated feet, without a sign of a trail or landmark, and with my feet in a peculiar condition of insensibility, still I staggered blindly but persistently towards my goal.

At eight o’clock I was still on the trail; but somehow a doubt began to take possession of me that perhaps I had missed the cabin altogether and was wandering towards the Twelve-mile Divide.

All at once the dogs stopped, and on stepping ahead to see what was the matter I found they were tangled in their harness. I tried to bend over to release them, but my clothes were so stiff that I found it impossible, and I lurched over, falling head-foremost into a drift.

I tried to raise myself to a sitting position, only to fall back weakly. A new sensation seemed to be taking possession of me. I no longer desired to struggle; a mysterious warmth appeared to surround me, and a drowsiness stole over my senses. My only wish was to be left alone to sleep. I was just dozing off when Nellie, my leading dog, lifted up her nose and gave vent to a weird, wolf-like howl, which she repeated after a few seconds’ interval. I gazed at her with an almost ludicrous amazement, wondering stupidly why she was making such a noise. Almost simultaneously with her second howl I heard a shout and, to my amazement, saw a lantern shining through the trees. I at once realised that help was at hand, and immediately the desire for sleep left me. A wild longing for life, for warmth, for food, asserted itself instead, and I gave a yell that must have sounded like the war-whoop of an Apache Indian. A moment later I saw two men approaching me, and at once struggled to my feet. Through the trees came the shouted query, “Are you all right?” “I’m all right,” I answered. “Where’s the cabin?” By this time the two men had reached me, and one of them, looking hard into my face, exclaimed, “Why, your nose is frozen!”

He put his arm round me and helped me to the cabin, while the other man took charge of my dogs. I found that the cabin was only about a hundred yards from the place where I had lain down to sleep, but, owing to the fact that it was built in a grove of trees, it was impossible to see it until one was close to it. It seems almost ironical that had it not been for the howl of a dog I would surely have died within a hundred yards of warmth and shelter.

Once in the cabin the men examined me, and found that my nose, ears, and fingers were frozen, but not dangerously so. Without any hesitation they took a knife and cut off my socks and moccasins. My feet, from the toes to the ankles, were as white and as hard as marble. They thawed them out with snow, and for three hours I suffered indescribable torment as the congealed blood began to circulate.

Next morning my feet were so swollen and looked so bad that I was wrapped in furs, packed in a dog-sled, and taken to the hospital at Fairbanks, which was reached in three days. I lay in the hospital for three months, but fortunately did not lose any portion of my feet. It will be many months, however, before I shall be able to walk as well as formerly, but I count myself as one of the most fortunate, because I escaped with my life.

It only remains for me to add that Nellie is still with me; I intend never to part with her. Very few men can say that they have cheated death through the howl of a dog, and I consider it my duty to care for the animal who, by her devotion and intelligence, saved my life that day on the Circle trail.

THE WIDE WORLD: In Other Magazines.

THE HINDU IN THE COLONIES.

The photograph reproduced herewith is taken from “The Captain,” and shows a Hindu employed on a farm in British Columbia carrying on his head a load of boxes of apples over six feet in height and weighing one hundred and twenty-five pounds. The photograph incidentally gives a very good idea of the grand scenery in this flourishing colony.

A MARKET FOR OLD HATS.

The group of islands known as the Nicobars, about one hundred and fifty miles south of the Andamans, has been but little explored, though the manners and customs of the inhabitants offer very interesting peculiarities to the ethnologist. One of the most noticeable of these is the passion for old hats. Young and old, chief and subject alike, endeavour to outvie one another in the singularity of shape, no less than in the number of old hats they can acquire during their lifetime. On a fine morning at the Nicobars it is no unusual thing to see the surface of the ocean in the vicinity of the islands dotted over with canoes, in each of which the noble savage, with nothing on but the conventional slip of cloth and a tall white hat with a black band, may be watched catching fish for his daily meal. Second-hand hats are in most request, new ones being looked upon with suspicion and disfavour.--“TIT-BITS.”

EXTERMINATING BIG GAME IN BRITISH COLUMBIA.

Numbers of irresponsible men ride along the trails in spring, when the deer are in deplorable condition after a hard winter, and almost too weak to get out of the way, taking pot shots at the poor brutes with revolvers, hardly troubling to see whether they make a kill, and never following a wounded animal. Almost every district which has had a mining excitement has had the game almost entirely depleted in this manner. The more outrageous offences have certainly been stopped to some extent; but there is still a great deal of this sort of thing going on, and now that the laws are being more strictly enforced many of these irresponsible persons take out a miner’s licence so as to render themselves safe from prosecution.--“COUNTRY LIFE.”

DICKENS STORIES IN CHINA.

The Chinese are rapidly taking up Western ideas, and translations of English and French novels are now in increasing demand. Our romantic and sentimental treatment of love-affairs, however, is a thing so foreign to Oriental ethics that the hero of the ordinary European novel appears to the Chinese mind as a person of perverted moral sense and doubtful sanity. Translations of Dickens, therefore, impress the Chinese reader less than they amaze him, and detective stories and tales of adventure command a more sympathetic audience.--“WOMAN’S LIFE.”

“THE VIRGIN’S TREE.”

The annexed photograph shows a famous tree growing in the little Egyptian village of Matariyah, which is partly built on the ruins of Heliopolis and situated about four and a half miles to the north of Cairo. It is usually called “The Virgin’s Tree,” from the tradition that the Virgin Mary sat and rested under its shadow during her flight to Egypt. It is also said that by remaining hidden in the hollow tree by means of a marvellously-twisted cobweb she succeeded in escaping her persecutors.--“THE STRAND MAGAZINE.”

Odds and Ends.

The “Shark Papers”--A Mysterious Archway--British Columbian “Poverty Socials,” etc., etc.

Few exhibits in the Institute of Jamaica, British West Indies, possess a more curious history than the famous “Shark Papers,” a photograph of which is reproduced herewith. The story is, briefly, as follows: On August 28th, 1799, a naval officer named Hugh Wylie, in command of H.M. cutter _Sparrow_, while cruising off the coast of Hayti, gave chase to, and eventually captured, the American brig _Nancy_. The prize was sent in to Port Royal, and a fortnight later a suit for salvage was brought on behalf of Wylie against “a certain brig or vessel called the _Nancy_, her guns, tackle, furniture, ammunition, and apparel, and the goods, wares, merchandise, specie, and effects on board her, taken and seized as the property of some person or persons, being enemies of our Sovereign Lord and King, and good and lawful prize on the high seas, and within the jurisdiction of this Court.” A claim for the dismissal of the case with costs, backed with affidavits, was put in by the owners of the brig, in which, as it subsequently turned out, they perjured themselves freely. While the case was proceeding Lieutenant Michael Fitton, in command of the _Ferret_, and Wylie in command of the _Sparrow_ (both tenders of H.M.S. _Abergavenny_, the flagship at Port Royal), put out to sea with the object of earning for the stationary flagship a share of the prizes which were constantly being taken by the cruisers. On rejoining after an accidental separation, Fitton invited Wylie by signal to come to breakfast. While waiting for him to come aboard the _Ferret_ crew captured a huge shark, which, on being opened, was found to contain a sealed packet of papers. During the breakfast Wylie mentioned that he had detained an American brig called the _Nancy_. Fitton thereupon said he had her papers. “Papers?” answered Wylie. “Why, I sealed up her papers and sent them in with her.” “Just so,” replied Fitton; “those were her false papers. Here are her real ones; my men found them in the stomach of a shark!” These papers, together with others of an incriminating nature found on the _Nancy_ some time after her capture, carefully concealed in the captain’s cabin, led to the condemnation of the brig and her cargo on the 25th November, 1799. The head of the shark which swallowed the papers is still preserved in the United Service Museum at Whitehall, London, S.W.

The archway here shown, made of enormous slabs of coral rock neatly chiselled and mortised, is one of the many interesting problems of the Pacific. If, as is generally believed, the South Sea Islands are of comparatively recent volcanic and coralline formation, who built this archway, which is situated on one of the smallest islands of the Tongan group? The oldest native inhabitants of the islands know nothing of its origin, and from its appearance the monument is of great antiquity. From this and other indications it has been claimed that the “Milky Way” of the Pacific was in prehistoric times one vast continent, inhabited by peoples of whom the present-day world has lost all record.

“Travelling recently on donkey-back across a trackless portion of the Conchilla Desert in South-Eastern California,” writes a correspondent, “we sighted ahead of us above the sage-brush a nondescript object which on nearer approach resolved itself into the two dilapidated tramcars shown in the next photograph. They formed the equipment of a ‘horse railway’ across the sands ten or twelve years ago to connect a solitary station on the Southern Pacific Railway with an agricultural colony several miles distant. The farming enterprise, however, failed utterly, and the ‘horse railway’ with it. The incongruous sight of these two abandoned cars in the midst of drifting sands is all that remains to-day to tell the tale of shattered hope.”

The amusing handbill shown below refers to a curious function which is very popular in British Columbia--the “poverty social.” This is an entertainment of the kind formerly known in more conventional circles as a “conversazione.” Whereas the latter is chiefly distinguished for its formality and general uncomfortableness, these “poverty socials” are delightfully free and easy; indeed, the people attending them are actually fined if their clothes are considered at all stylish or savouring of ostentation, the idea, of course, being that everyone--rich and poor alike--shall feel entirely at their ease. Needless to say, the bad spelling and the mistakes made in the printing of the bill are all carefully designed to heighten the homely effect of the gathering.

It is questionable if any animal on earth could duplicate the swallowing feat that is to be seen daily (or as often as a tourist comes along) at the Cawston Ostrich Farm in South Pasadena, California. The ostriches on this farm are veritable giants of their race, having responded generously to the genial climate, good food, and scientific care. Oranges are one of their great dainties--the big “navel” oranges of California, measuring upwards of three and a half inches in diameter. One old patriarch named “Emperor William” will catch the oranges one after another, full ten feet above the ground, until an even dozen may be seen at the same time slowly bumping down his long expanse of neck, to be finally lost in the ruffle of feathers where neck and body join! “William” has been known to gulp thirty-five or forty oranges in succession, and the fact that he is in robust health at twenty-three years of age seems to indicate that California oranges agree with him.

An Indian reader writes: “I enclose a photograph which I recently took whilst paying a visit to the Indian hill station of Darjeeling. The picture represents a Bhutia, or native of Bhutan, playing ‘Diabolo.’ Although the game has made big strides both at home and abroad, I think that probably Darjeeling, at an altitude of seven thousand feet, represents the highest point it has touched at present.”

In Spanish-speaking countries young women are allowed but little of the liberty that they enjoy in lands where English is the native tongue. They rarely meet young men at social entertainments, and are never permitted to converse with them except in the presence of older people. They do, of course, contrive to carry on flirtations, but chiefly with the eyes. In every town in a Spanish-speaking country there is a _plaza_, where a band plays on one or two evenings of the week. The young men and women congregate there, the former walking round and round in one direction and the latter in the opposite direction. Thus they are constantly meeting and making eyes at each other, but they do not pair off or sit down on the benches together. When a young man wants to pay his attentions to a girl, he must get notes smuggled to her or “play the bear”--that is, stand under the window of her room and try to attract her attention, either by serenading her with some musical instrument, or, if he has no gift that way, by simply waiting patiently until she chances to look out and cast him an encouraging glance. In spite, however, of all difficulties and obstacles, Cupid contrives to find a way, and young people fall in love and marry just as in lands where etiquette is less strict and opportunities for _tête-à-tête_ conversations more frequent.

The striking little photograph above was sent by Colonel the Hon. H. E. Maxwell, D.S.O., from the remote post of Cherat, on the North-West frontier of India. “It was taken during a flight of locusts,” he writes. “They covered the hills for miles in every direction, and during their two or three days’ stay caused enormous damage to the few trees and shrubs with which we are blessed, stripping them entirely of their leaves, and in some cases even eating away the bark!”