Part 23 (1/2)

Jimmy studied the map and agreed. Moreover, he was young and the wilds called. To plunge into the great desolation was something of an adventure and Deering claimed to know the bush.

”What about your hired man? Did you trust the fellow?” Deering resumed.

”I had no grounds to doubt him,” Jimmy replied in a thoughtful voice.

”Bob was rather inscrutable and didn't attract me, but he could chop and this was all I wanted.”

”So far as you can calculate, he hadn't a pick on you?”

”Not at all. I think he was satisfied with his pay, and since I generally let him plan the work we did not dispute. All the same, sometimes I imagined he gave me a queer moody look.”

”Do you think he was, in any sense, Stannard's man?”

”Certainly not,” said Jimmy, with some surprise. ”Anyhow, I don't see--”

”I don't see,” Deering admitted. ”I'm looking for a light, but don't get much yet. Well, when you have smoked your pipe we'll hit the trail.”

They got off a few minutes afterwards, and at noon reached the bottom of the hill. A high spur blocked the valley behind them, and the echoes of small avalanches rolled across the rocks. Deering declared the sliding snow would cover their tracks at the neck, but their line was to some extent obvious, and until they could break it, they must push on as fast as possible.

To push on fast was hard. Fallen trees and tangled brush blocked the gaps in the rows of trunks, but by and by Jimmy, looking through an opening, saw the woods s.h.i.+ne with reflected light. The trees were like silver trees; they sparkled as if touched by frost, and for a few moments Jimmy was puzzled. Then he said, ”Rampikes?”

Deering nodded. ”A big burn! I expect it has cleared some ground for us.”

A short distance farther on, the brushwood vanished. Underfoot was a soft carpet of ashes from which the trunks rose like columns. Their branches were gone and the smooth, round logs reflected the light. For a time to get free from entangling vines and thorns was a relief, but the ash was soft and when one disturbed it, went up in clouds. The black dust stuck to Jimmy's hot skin and he labored across the clogging stuff.

Then the desolation began to react on him. The birds were gone and the feathery ash was not broken by the tracks of animals. It was obvious they would not find a deer. All was dead, and but for the noise of falling water the silence was daunting. At length Jimmy stopped and leaned against a trunk.

”Come off!” said Deering. ”Sit down, if you like, although I'd sooner keep on my feet. You don't want to lean against a rampike.”

Jimmy was tired and sat in the ashes.

”How do the fires start?” he asked.

”It's puzzling. The forestry people claim they're not spontaneous,”

Deering replied. ”Around the settlements, a fire sometimes starts from a burned slas.h.i.+ng and the police get after the homesteader. All the same, you hit _brules_ in country the Indians and prospectors leave alone.

Anyhow, I guess we're lucky because there's not much wind, and while our luck is good we'll push along.”

They set off and some time afterwards the roar of an avalanche broke the brooding calm. The noise swelled and rolled about the valley, as if great rocks were coming down, and then Jimmy heard a near, sharp crash.

He jumped mechanically, and looking back, saw a pillar of dust float up like smoke from a blasting shot. In the dust, a big rampike slanted, broke, and plunged. Another went and Deering pushed Jimmy.

”We'll pull out!” he shouted and they began to run.

When Jimmy stopped to get his breath the echoes had died away and all was quiet, but he felt he had had enough of the burned forest. After studying the rocks and gravel on the hillside he turned to Deering.

”You talked about breaking our line, and I expect we could get over the spur in front,” he said. ”Let's try.”

XVIII

THE CARTRIDGE BELT