Part 7 (1/2)

”Then you have nothing to eat?” said Thirlwell sharply.

”Half a small bannock; I ate the rest this morning. The worst was I had only melted snow to drink.”

Thirlwell made a sympathetic gesture, for men who camp in the frozen woods consume large quant.i.ties of nearly boiling tea. Then he turned to the half-breed and sent him back for his companion and the sledge.

”We'll haul you down the river as soon as they come,” he said. ”By good luck, we camped in perhaps the only place from which we could have seen your fire.”

”Ah,” said Father Lucien with a quiet smile, ”I do not know if it was luck alone that made you choose the spot.”

They sat down in the hollow among the rocks, and the missionary s.h.i.+vered although the fire snapped and threw out clouds of smoke close by.

Thirlwell gave him his tobacco pouch.

”In the meantime, you can eat your bannock and then take a smoke. I'm curious to learn how you lost your outfit and the dogs.”

Father Lucien ate the morsel of hard cake, and afterwards looked up.

”Perhaps I had better tell you before your men arrive. Well, I traveled about with my people as they moved their traps, and one night when very tired I slept in damp moccasins. The fire got low and next morning my foot was slightly frozen. We were forced to make long marches for some days, and I found the frost-bite had gone deeper than I thought. You can, no doubt, guess what happened.”

Thirlwell nodded. A frozen foot sometimes galls into a sore that will not heal while the temperature is low.

”Well,” said Father Lucien, ”some time after we pitched camp, a man came in with a dog-team that belonged to the Hudson's Bay. He was not going farther but offered to lend me the dogs, if I would leave them with some friends of his who were trapping to the south.”

”But can you drive dogs?” Thirlwell asked, knowing that skill is required to manage the snarling, fighting teams.

”Not well, but I have driven dogs, and was anxious to reach the mine before my foot got worse. I thought I might find somebody at the Indians' camp who would go on with me. For a day or two we made good progress, though I had trouble to harness the leader in the morning; he was a stubborn, bad tempered animal, and missed his master's firm control. Then, one evening, we came to a creek. The stream had kept the channel open here and there, and I thought the ice thin, but it was open, rocky country round about, and I saw a clump of pines in the distance where we could camp. It got dark as we followed the creek and clouds drifted over the moon, but I wanted to find shelter and pushed on. Once or twice the ice cracked ominously, but it held until we came to a spot where the stream got narrower between high, rocky banks.

”The leader stopped and growled, at the edge of an open crack. His instinct warned him of danger, but I knew I could not get up the rough bank with my lame foot, and drove him past. As I limped by his side with the whip, I thought I heard the current gurgle under the ice, but we went on, the dogs snuffing and treading cautiously. Then there was a soft thud and a splash, the team was jerked back and I saw that the sledge had vanished. I suppose it had broken through a snow-bridge that our weight had shaken.

”I scrambled back a yard or two and looked down into the dark gap--I could not run because of my galled foot. Part of the sledge was covered by fallen snow, but the fore end rested on something and I leaned down and seized my blanket. There was a bag of food beneath it that I tried to reach, but perhaps I shook the sledge, which began to slip down, and I saw the dogs roll among the traces as they were dragged towards the hole. The leader clawed desperately at the snow, howling as if he begged my help, and I felt that I must save him. You have heard a dog howl in fear or pain?”

”Yes,” said Thirlwell, ”it makes a strong appeal. But I suppose you remembered what you risked by leaving the food?”

”I cut the trace,” Father Lucien went on. ”Another ma.s.s of snow fell and the sledge sank out of sight. I imagine the stream swept it under the ice, for I could only see the dark water foam. All the food I had except a bannock in my pocket was lost. I forgot the team for a few moments and when I looked up they had gone.”

He paused and Thirlwell made a sign of sympathy. ”A nerve-shaking jar!

But what became of the dogs?”

”I think they were afraid of the ice. If my camp had been made and a fire lighted, they might have come in for warmth, but I was not their master, and perhaps they took the back trail to the spot we started from. Well, as I could not follow, I limped on until I reached the pine clump, where I slept, and then dragged myself across the divide to this corner among the rocks. I knew I could go no farther and sat down to wait--”

Father Lucien's voice was calm and Thirlwell knew his courage had not failed. The man had often risked death when duty sent him out across the snowy wilds.

”Anyhow,” said Thirlwell, ”I'm glad I found you before it was too late.

It's something I and others will long be thankful for.”

Father Lucien smiled deprecatingly. ”If I had starved, another would have filled my place. Men fall on the trail, but the work goes forward.

Perhaps I have said too much about my danger, but I did so because of a curious thing that happened last night. I slept as well as usual for some hours, and then opened my eyes. I think, however, I was not quite awake, or else my brain was dull, because I felt no surprise although a man was in my camp. The fire had burned low and he stood back in the gloom where I could not see his face, but a dry branch broke into flame and the light fell on me. The way the man turned his head indicated that he was looking about the camp, and he must have seen that I had nothing but my blanket. But he was silent and did not come forward.”