Part 5 (2/2)
Springing out of his hut he seized them, and threw them on the fire.
At that moment a savage wolf, either one of the leaders of the pack, or more hungry than its companions, made a rush at him from one side.
Happily he was prepared, and firing, the creature rolled over. The instant it was dead the rest of the animals sprang on the body, tearing it to pieces. Donald on this, after re-loading his gun, having stirred up the fire so as to make it burn more brightly, ran towards the tree, up which he began to climb. The short delay of loading his gun might have proved fatal, for part of the pack perceiving him, came yelping on furiously, and he had scarcely got his feet out of the reach of their fangs before the whole pack had collected round him. His gun, which he had slung at his back, being rather weighty, he was afraid that the pegs would give way, and that he should fall among the ravenous jaws below him, but he succeeded at length in reaching a firm branch, and he drew himself up on to it, and thence climbed to the point he had selected.
Here he sat securely. Though he had escaped from the wolves they showed no signs of quitting him; the light of the fire, which still blazed up brightly, exhibiting their savage forms, as they stood howling beneath the tree, or circled round and round, looking up with eager eyes towards him. He refrained from firing, believing that they were more likely to go away when they found that they could not reach him, than if he should kill some of their number, when the pack would remain to devour the carcases of their companions. At last, when morning dawned, and they still continued round the tree, he began to lose patience, and to fear that they would carry on the siege till they had starved him out.
”I cannot kill the whole pack,” he said to himself, ”but I may knock over so many that the others may at length take warning and make their escape.”
He had no difficulty in firing, and as a branch offered him a good rest for his gun, he was able to take steady aim, and never missed a shot.
He had killed half a dozen or more, still the wolves continued round the tree. It was in a dense part of the forest, through which the beams of the sun did not penetrate, or the creatures, disliking the bright light of day, would probably have retreated to their fastness. Hour after hour pa.s.sed by, the air became unusually sultry and hot, even in the forest. Donald was growing, at the same time, very hungry, and though, as yet, he had rather enjoyed the adventure, he now began to feel seriously anxious about his safety. He had but a few bullets remaining, and the small shot in his pouch would produce but little effect on the heads of the wolves, and only render them more savage. He waited for some time, and then again began to fire, hoping that the sound of his piece might be heard by any party of Indians or travellers in the forest, who would come to his a.s.sistance, for he knew that the wolves, cowardly though savage, will seldom venture to attack several people together. He had expended his bullets. He felt more and more sensible of the increased heat, and on looking upwards through the branches he observed an unusual appearance in the sky. The wolves, at the same instant, became silent, and then seized, so it seemed, by a panic, the whole pack set off at full speed amid the trees, and were lost to sight.
The heat grew more intense than ever, not a breath of wind was stirring, the thunder roared in the distance, gradually the sky, as he could see it through the branches, became of an inky blackness, till a dark pall collected overhead, then the clouds appeared to break up, and whirled round and round each other in a state of dreadful commotion, forked lightening darted from the heavens, and the thunder, in rapid heavy peals, roared and rattled again and again till the very trees of the forest seemed to shake with the concussion. Far away out of the forest arose a black cone-shaped column, which soon joined itself to the ma.s.s of clouds overhead, the lightening flas.h.i.+ng with greater vividness and rapidity, the thunder becoming more deafening than ever. The sound increased to a dreadful roar, coming nearer and nearer. He had no doubt that it was indeed a whirlwind sweeping through the forest, he could hear the tree tops dashed together, the rending branches, the cras.h.i.+ng of falling trees, as the stout branches were twisted round and round, torn up by the roots, or snapped off as if they had been mere saplings.
Should the devastating tempest pa.s.s across where he stood, he could scarcely hope to avoid being crushed by the falling trees.
He now remembered an open s.p.a.ce a short distance off, which, had the ground not been swampy, he would have selected for his camp. He hurried towards it. As he made his way through the forest he could hear behind him those dreadful sounds which betokened the rapid approach of the hurricane. Already the tree tops were waving furiously above his head, as he sprang out into the open s.p.a.ce, towards which he was directing his steps. In an instant after the tall trees came cras.h.i.+ng down, and almost lifted off his feet, he found himself encircled by ma.s.ses of leaves and boughs torn off and whirled through the air. On he sped till he gained the centre of the meadow, when, on looking back, a wide opening appeared in the part of the forest through which he had lately pa.s.sed. An avenue had been formed nearly two hundred yards in width, in which not a tree remained standing, while it seemed to extend far away into the depths of the forest.
As he was anxious to continue his journey, as soon as all was quiet, he set off in the direction taken by the newly formed avenue. He had to proceed a considerable distance towards the track which led to the towns.h.i.+p, and he kept as near it as the fallen trees would allow, that he might observe the havoc which had been produced. He calculated, as he walked along, that upwards of three miles of forest had been levelled of the width already mentioned, and that many thousand trees had, in a few seconds, been destroyed.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
DONALD RESUMING HIS JOURNEY, HEARS A CRY OF DISTRESS.--FINDS A MAN UNDER A FALLEN TREE, WHO, AFTER CARRYING HIM SOME DISTANCE, HE DISCOVERS TO BE ALEC GALBRAITH.--THEY CAMP FOR THE NIGHT.
Donald was about to leave the scene of havoc caused by the whirlwind, when a groan, as if from a person in pain, reached his ears. It was repeated with a faint cry of ”Help! help!” He made his way among the fallen branches in the direction from whence the sound came. At length he saw, beneath a fallen tree, a man of strong frame, so pressed down by a bough that he could not extricate himself.
”Get me out of this, for I can endure the agony no longer,” cried the man.
Donald hastened up to him. ”I'll do my best to release you, my friend; but let me see how I can best manage it,” he said. At first he thought of chopping away the bough, but then he saw that the man would suffer by the blows. He soon, on examination, determined how alone it could be done. With his axe he cut two pieces of wood, one of which would serve as a crowbar, the other thicker and shorter, to place under the bough after he had raised it. It was a work of time, and his heart was grieved at the pain which the poor man was enduring during the operation.
At length, by great exertion, he raised the bough sufficiently off the crushed limb to enable him to drag out the sufferer.
”Water! water!” were the only words the latter could utter. Donald had a small quant.i.ty in a flask, with which he moistened his lips. It somewhat revived the man; but how, in his crippled state, he could be conveyed to the towns.h.i.+p, was now the question. The stranger was strongly built and heavy, and Donald felt that, st.u.r.dy as he himself was, he could scarcely hope to carry him along the uneven track so great a distance. Still, to leave him in his present exhausted condition was not to be thought of; the wolves, too, from which he had escaped, might come back before he could possibly return with a.s.sistance.
”I must take you on my back, my friend,” he said to the stranger, who appeared to have recovered sufficiently to understand him. ”I see no other way of preserving your life. Trust to me. I can at all events carry you some distance before nightfall, we will then encamp, and continue our journey to-morrow.”
”I am not worth the exertion and trouble it must cause you,” said the man, gloomily. ”The pain overcame me, and I would that the trunk itself had fallen on me, and put me out of existence altogether.”
”Nay, nay, my friend,” answered Donald. ”You should rather be thankful to the merciful G.o.d who, though He has allowed you to suffer injury, has preserved your life, that you may yet have an opportunity of devoting it to His service.”
”I do not comprehend your philosophy. I know that I have been suffering unspeakable agony. I have nothing to be thankful for on that account,”
answered the man.
”We will not dispute the point now, my friend,” said Donald. ”But let us make the best of our way to the towns.h.i.+p. This stout stick, which I used as crowbar, will serve to support me as I walk. Now let me lift you on my shoulders, and we will proceed on our journey.”
Donald, on this, stooped down, and placed himself so that the stranger could cling to his back, and with his heavy weight he made his way through the forest.
He had not gone far, however, before he began to fear that he should make but slow progress, even should he not be compelled to abandon his intentions altogether, and to leave the unhappy sufferer by himself in the forest. He staggered on till he reached a small stream, where he could obtain water to quench the sufferer's burning thirst. He examined also the injured limb--the bone did not appear to be broken, although the flesh was fearfully bruised and discoloured.
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