CHAPTER IX.

THE RESCUE.

"Isn't it about time Bob was getting back?"

Jack looked at his watch as he asked the question.

"What time heem be?" Lucky asked

"Quarter past one."

"Oui, heem ought be here ver' soon."

"You don't suppose anything has happened to him?" Jack asked anxiously.

"Non, but wind heem change. We goin' have snow."

"Well I wish he'd come. Somehow I feel uneasy."

"Heem come soon."

For another half hour they waited, Jack getting more and more uneasy.

"Hark!"

"That wolf."

"And it came from up that way." Jack indicated the direction which Bob had taken.

"Geet gun, we go queek."

Throwing some wood on the fire so that it would last until they should return they quickly tied on their snow-shoes and, taking their rifles, were off at the fastest pace they could muster.

"You think the wolves are after him?" Jack asked as they hurried along.

"Mebby. But heem climb tree."

"But he'd have shot and we didn't hear any shots."

"Wind, heem wrong."

They had gone but a short distance when Jack's quick eye caught sight of something lying nearly concealed in the snow. Stooping he picked up Bob's automatic.

"It's Bob's," he gasped holding it out so that the Indian could see it.

"Oui, heem Bob's."

"But how did it come here?"

"See, heem fall here. Mebby gun heem fall out."

"But I don't see how it could have," Jack objected.

"Heem fall here," Lucky insisted.

"Sure he did, but I don't see how he could have lost this gun. But it won't do any good to stand here talking about it."

They had heard the mournful howl of the wolves several times since they started, and Jack grew more and more alarmed as they advanced and he could see that the Indian was not entirely easy in his mind although he was doing his best to conceal it.

"We ver' near where wolf be," Lucky declared as a long drawn out howl came from only a short distance ahead.

"Sounds that way," Jack agreed.

"Have gun ready."

"You bet."

They hurried along for a few minutes and then Lucky, who was a few feet ahead of Jack, suddenly stopped and raised his rifle. Instantly a shot rang through the woods followed by a loud yelp of pain. Jack hurried to his side and from there could see the pack as they gathered about the foot of the tree. But at that moment they were engaged in a mad fight to see which should get the choicer portions of their fallen comrade.

"Let heem have eet," Lucky shouted, and Jack began pumping lead into the pack as rapidly as he could work the ejector.

Wild yelps of pain mingled with the fierce growls of combat filled the air. Then, just as Jack had emptied the magazine of his rifle, one of the wolves saw them and with a sharp bark of anger left the pack and sprang toward them. Jack saw that the wolf would be upon them before he could get his rifle loaded and cast a quick glance at the Indian. But he too had exhausted his magazine and was hurriedly loading. The wolf was now only a few feet away and behind him were several others and he knew there was not an instant to lose. Dropping his gun he snatched his automatic from his belt and, just as the leading animal was about to take the final spring, he fired. The huge wolf fell dead at his feet a bullet in his brain, but another was upon them almost instantly. Jack fired again, but this time he must have missed for the wolf did not stop and before he could fire again he was upon him. As they came to the ground Jack succeeded in getting a firm hold on the long hair at the beast's neck and, pushing with all his strength, he was able to keep the huge jaws away from his throat. Over and over they rolled in the snow, but almost at once the boy heard the crack of Lucky's rifle and knew that the Indian had loaded and was firing again.

After what seemed a long time and just when it seemed that he could not hold those terrible jaws away another instant he heard a muffled shot close at hand and instantly he felt a convulsive shudder pass through the wolfs body and the head fell forward in his grasp. Flinging it from him he sprang to his feet.

"Heem hurt you?"

"Only a few scratches I reckon," Jack panted. "Where are the rest of them?"

"Them run, but we kill most all."

Jack quickly glanced toward the tree, but only the still forms lying on the snow met his gaze.

"Bob must be up that tree," he said as he looked about for his automatic which had fallen from his hand when the wolf hit him. He located it almost at once and, shoving it into his belt, he picked up his rifle and started for the Indian who was already nearly to the tree.

"Bob! Bob! Oh Bob!" he shouted as he ran.

But there was no answer and his heart almost stopped beating as he joined Lucky beneath the branches of the tree.

"You--you don't--" he began, but the Indian interrupted.

"Heem must be up thar."

"Take my rifle and I'll have a look," Jack said as he handed over the gun and swung himself up.

"He's here," he called a minute later. "But--but I can't seem to wake him."

The Indian was beside him almost before he had finished speaking.

"Heem no dead," he declared after he had laid his ear over his heart. "We geet heem down an' back to camp queek."

It was hard work getting the heavy body down out of the tree, but they did it quickly knowing that a moment more or less might well mean his life. The ground seem literally covered with the bodies of the wolves, but they took no heed of them as they quickly fastened on their snow-shoes and started back, the Indian carrying Bob over his shoulder. Fortunately Jack's shoes had not been damaged in the fight and he went ahead carrying their rifles. Not once did the Indian stop and he refused to allow Jack to carry him or to help, asserting that they could make better time that way. Jack was amazed at the Indian's strength and the speed which he was able to maintain with such a heavy load.

Arrived back the Indian laid the still form on a blanket over the bed of boughs and started rubbing his limbs while Jack hurried to get out their medicine case. For fully fifteen minutes they worked before the first sign of returning life rewarded them. Over and over Jack moaned that he was dead, but the Indian insisted that it was not so and they kept on. Then Jack noticed a slight twitching of one eyelid and fell to work with renewed hope.

"Heem heart geet stronger," Lucky assured him.

"He's opening his eyes," Jack declared a moment later.

A low moan followed Jack's words and Bob opened his eyes. A faint smile played about his mouth, but he was too weak to speak.

"Don't try, old man," Jack cried.

"Tank de Bon Father," Lucky murmured.

They continued to work on him for some time and as the color returned to his face Jack thanked God over and over again for His great goodness.

"We see him feet froze," Lucky said after a little.

Quickly they unlaced the moccasins and pulled off the heavy woolen socks.

"Oui, dem froze," Lucky declared.

"Badly?"

"Non, no bad. Rub wid snow."

Jack did as ordered and had the great satisfaction of seeing the color come slowly back.

"Them be heap sore for 'while, but them geet well," Lucky declared after a few minutes.

By this time Bob was able to whisper a few words, but the Indian cautioned him to save his strength and soon he fell into a deep sleep.

"More heem sleep now the better," Lucky assured Jack.

"You think he'll be all right?"

"Oui, eef heem no have pneumonia."

"You think there's danger of it?"

"Some, but heem ver' strong an' clean. Mebby heem no geet eet."

They took turns watching by his side through the long hours of the night fearful lest the dreaded fever develop. But Bob slept nearly all the time, waking only to ask for water. Once Jack was sure that he had a temperature and awakened the Indian. But he thought not and a little later slight drops of moisture on his forehead proved that he was right.

Morning came at last and with it the glad news from Lucky that the danger was passed and that Bob would be all right.

"But eet one ver' close call," he said.

Bob was very weak, too weak in fact to talk much and the Indian insisted that he keep perfectly quiet. With the light came the first flakes of snow presaging the coming of the storm which the Indian had been expecting.

"Injun mak' hut, you tend heem," he ordered.

He took one of the axes and went off into the woods to return a few minutes later dragging a number of long poles which he had trimmed clear of branches. With these and a lot of spruce boughs he quickly fashioned a rude, but strong tepee large enough to accommodate the three of them.

"You think it's going to be a bad storm?" Jack asked after they had placed Bob inside.

"Mebby. Most storm some bad up here."

"How long will it be before Bob is able to go on?"

"Two, mebby three day."

"Well, we must wait till he's all right."

"Oui, we wait."

In less than an hour if was evident that they were in for another blizzard and they spent the greater part of the day getting in a large supply of firewood. Fortunately they found a number of dead trees only a short distance off and by dark Lucky was certain that they had enough to last for at least three days. Bob had slept most of the time and seemed stronger every time he awoke. About four o'clock he awoke and wanted to know if it wasn't most time to eat. He ate all the Indian would let him and then declared that he was strong enough to tell them of his adventure.

"All right, but you stop queek you geet tired," Lucky cautioned him.

"I know I was going to sleep, simply couldn't help it, and I was almost equally sure that I wouldn't wake up in this world," he told them when he had finished.

"We must have gotten there very soon after you went to sleep," Jack said.

"Oui, ver' queek or heem no wake," Lucky added

"How many wolves did you kill?" Bob asked.

"We didn't stop to count them," Jack laughed. "But we must have shot all of a dozen. What do you think, Lucky?"

"Mebby dozen, mebby more. Two three got 'way."

"Well, I hope I never see another wolf as long as I live," Bob declared.

"Same here," Jack added.

"We see heap more," Lucky shook his head.

"I suppose so," Jack agreed.

"Injun do wrong let boy go."

"None of that stuff now," Bob said quickly. "I'd have been all right if I hadn't been clumsy enough to lose my gun and that wasn't your fault."

"But Injun--"

"Forget it," and Lucky never mentioned the subject again.

All that night and all the following day it snowed and blew. How the wind did blow outside, but beneath the overhang of the cliff where they had pitched the tepee it was comparatively still and thanks to the thick circle of trees, only a small amount of snow found its way to them. At one side, but beneath the overhang, Lucky had constructed a rough shelter for the dogs and they were, as Jack had said, "well stabled."

Long before both Jack and Bob had made warm friends with the members of the team and although it would be extremely dangerous for a stranger to touch any of them, they found they could do anything with them. In fact, as Lucky declared, "Them dog adopt you white boys ver' queek."

It had been the Indian's intention to start out on a reconnoitering expedition himself the morning following Bob's adventure, but so fierce was the storm that he knew it would be folly to attempt it. Bob passed a good night and in the morning insisted that he was all right and wanted to get up, but Lucky would not hear of it.

"Mebby you geet up tomorrow, mebby not. No geet up today an' that flat, oui."

"All right, you're the doctor," Bob laughed good naturedly, but he chafed at the restraint.

It was still snowing hard when they went to bed that night, but Lucky declared that the wind was working around into the west and that it would clear before morning. And he was right for the morning dawned clear and cold.

"Forty below," Jack announced as he looked at the thermometer which he had placed on the other side of the tepee.

"That's kind of chilly around the edges," Bob laughed as he pulled on his moccasins.

He had insisted on getting up and Lucky, after a show of reluctance, had given in.

"How much snow has fallen?" Jack asked the Indian who just then entered the tepee.

"Heap lot. Eet drift ver' much, but must be four feet on level. Breakfast heem ready."

"And so are we and hungry too," Bob told him.

"You feel all right, oui?"

"Fine's a fiddle."

"No weak?"

"No weak."

"Bon."

"Bon is right," Bob smiled.

"And now what's the program?" Jack asked as soon as the meal was finished.

"We all go find cabin?" Lucky looked at Jack and then at Bob.

"Fine." Both the boys spoke the word at the same time.

They left in about a half hour just as the sun was casting its first rays into the defile. They found the traveling extremely hard as the snow was light and their snow-shoes sank several inches at every step. But they took it easy, Lucky in the lead, for he was afraid, that, in spite of Bob's declaration, the boy had not as yet fully recovered his strength. It took them the better part of an hour to reach the scene of Bob's adventure and he was unable to prevent a shudder as he caught sight of the tree in the branches of which he had so nearly perished. The bodies of the wolves were, of course, buried deep beneath the snow and there was nothing except remembrance to recall the terrible experience.

"You tired?" Lucky asked Bob as they stopped beneath the tree.

"Little bit," Bob replied reluctantly.

"We rest leetle beet, oui?"

"Guess we better, but I'm all right."

"You feel bon, eh?"

"I sure do," Bob assured. "Only a bit puffed."

"How far do you suppose it is to the cabin?" Jack asked.

"No can say. Eet may be mile mebby two, mebby three. Fellers up here no sure of distance."

"In which respect they haven't a thing on a lot people back home," Jack laughed. "Remember that farmer, Bob, up near Jackman, who told us it was only a little over a mile to town when it was exactly four and a half?"

"And he'd lived there all his life," Bob laughed.

After a short rest they started off again, Bob taking the lead with strict orders from Lucky to go slow and not get tired. Not a breath of wind stirred the branches of the trees and not a sound save the crunch of their snow-shoes on the dry snow. All nature seemed at rest and, although the sun was low in the sky, its rays had raised the temperature noticeably since they left the camp.

"My, but it's getting real hot," Jack laughed as he took off his cap and went through the motions of fanning himself. "I don't believe it's much more than thirty below."

They had stopped again for a breathing spell and Bob, in spite of his efforts to conceal it, was breathing heavily.

"You no so strong you tink, eh?" Lucky asked anxiously.

"Oh, I'm all right only I seem to get out of wind rather easily," Bob asserted.

"We tak' heem more easy."

"All right. You're the boss."

"We've made about two miles don't you think?" Jack asked, turning to Lucky.

"'Bout."

"Then I suppose we're apt to run into that cabin most any time now."

"Mebby."

But another long mile lay before them before they came to the end of their search. Bob was again in the lead and he suddenly stopped and held up one hand as a signal for the others to come to a halt.

"What is it?" Jack asked as he came back to where they were standing.

"The cabin is about fifty feet from where I was," he announced in a low tone.

"You see heem?"

"Yes."

"You see smoke come from heem chimney?"

"No, there was none."

"White boys stay here while Injun go see."

Without waiting for them to object the Indian started off and was almost at once lost to sight amid the thick trees.

"Was it a big cabin?" Jack asked

"Not so big."

"If there was no smoke it looks as though there was no one there, I should say."

"It sure looks that way, but I reckon we'll know before long."

In less than ten minutes they heard Lucky shout for them to come.

"That settles that part of it," Bob declared as they started.

"Sure does," Jack agreed.

In another moment they were through the fringe of trees and in plain sight of the little cabin which stood beneath the branches of one of the largest spruces they had ever seen. Lucky was standing a few feet from the door and they could see that the snow was banked nearly half way to its top.

"And there are no tracks except his," Jack declared as they advanced.

"No one home?" Bob asked trying to conceal his disappointment.

"Non, no one home," Lucky echoed.

The three looked at each other for a full minute before anyone spoke again.

"We must get in," Bob finally said.

"It's going to be some job to get that door open without a shovel," Jack declared.

"How about a window?"

"Oui, we geet in window."

There were but two windows, one on each side, and they consisted of a single pane of glass about fourteen inches square.

"Going to be a pretty tight squeeze even if we can get it open," Bob said as they halted after making a circuit of the cabin.

"But I reckon we can make it," Jack declared as he stepped close to the window and began to examine it. "It's nailed fast," he announced a moment later.

"Think we can drive it open?" Bob asked.

"Could if we had a hammer or an axe."

"Which we haven't, but there's a pile of wood out back. You wait a minute till I see what I can find."

He was back shortly with two sticks of wood one about a foot long and an inch or more thick while the other was nearly four feet long and about three times as thick.

"Here we are," he said as he handed the small piece to Jack. "Now, you hold that against one corner and I'll see what I can do."

Jack did as directed and Bob began to hammer the end of the stick with his club, gently at first and then harder as the frame showed no sign of yielding.

"Guess they must have used spikes," he said as he paused to examine the frame after he had struck thirty or more blows.

"Mebby better try other one," the Indian suggested.

"Not a bad idea," Bob agreed. "Come on, Jack, perhaps that one isn't nailed so hard."

"I'm going to get in there if I have to break the glass," Jack declared as he followed the others around to the other side.

"I hope it won't be necessary."

"She's giving a bit," Jack shouted after Bob had been hammering away for about five minutes.

"Good."

"Bon."

"That's enough. I think I can push it out the rest of the way," Jack told them after a few more blows had made a large crack between the window frame and the sill.

"All right. Go to it," Bob panted.

Jack pushed with all his strength and finally had the satisfaction of forcing the window completely out.

"Now for the squeeze," he said as he laid the window down on the snow.

"Better take a good look around inside there first," Bob cautioned.

"Don't see anything to be afraid of," he announced a moment later. "So here goes."

Jack and Lucky had little difficulty in getting in, but Bob was thicker and with him it was indeed a tight squeeze and they had to help him. But finally they were all in and ready to inspect the cabin.

To be sure the small windows admitted but little light, but they were able to see well enough after the first few minutes. The cabin consisted of but a single room and was meagerly furnished. An old rusty cook stove in the center, a rough table and three old straight backed chairs together with a couple of rude bunks filled with spruce boughs about completed the inventory, with the exception of a rough closet at one end which contained a few pots and pans and a few cracked dishes and three or four knives, forks and spoons. The floor was of dirt.

"Gee, it doesn't look as though anyone had lived here for a good while," Jack said after they had made the complete circuit of the big room.

"It sure doesn't look promising," Bob agreed.

"Heem look ver'--what you call heem--punk," Lucky added.

"Punk is right and then some," Jack told him.

"But the place looks mighty clean," Bob declared.

"But that doesn't mean anything, does it?"

"I don't know that it does," Bob acknowledged.

"How long since anyone has been here," Jade asked, turning to the Indian.

"No can tell."

"But you can guess."

"Mebby week, mebby year." Lucky shook his head.

"And that's not very definite,"

"Not ver'," Lucky confessed.

All this time the Indian had been moving about examining each object with the utmost minuteness in an effort, he explained a few minutes later, to get a clue as to what manner of men had last occupied the cabin and how long ago they had been there. But he was forced to acknowledge that it was too much for him and that he was beat.

"Injun hate geev up," he said shaking his head sadly. "But no can tell."

"But I've found something."

Bob was at the other end of the room from the others as he spoke and they hastened to where he was closely examining one of the logs which was about on a level with his shoulders.

"What is it?" Jack asked eagerly.

Bob made no reply, but pointed with his finger.

"S. L."

Jack spelled out the letters slowly and then looked at his brother.

"Well?" he asked.

"S. L. stand for Silas Lakewood, don't they?" Bob asked a bit impatiently.

"They could, of course, but don't forget that they could also stand for a good many other names as well. It doesn't look to me as though those letters were cut there very recently. What do you say, Lucky?"

The Indian looked at the letters for a long time before he made any reply, but he finally turned to Jack and said:

"Heap hard tell, but Injun tink them not ver' old, mebby three, mebby four week."

"Why do you think so?" Bob asked.

"Color wood tell Injun."

"Well, I think it's a pretty safe bet that he's been here anyhow," Bob declared.

"But we knew that before," Jack said. "Or at least we have that man's word for it."

"Yes and these letters make it pretty near certain, don't you think, Lucky?"

"Oui, heem been here."

"Granted for the sake of the argument, and now what's the next step?"

"I'll never tell you," Bob said soberly.

"It kind of looks to me as though we're at the end of our rope so to speak," Jack declared.

"What's your opinion, Lucky?" Bob asked.

"Eet not bon--what you call heem--situation," the Indian began after a moment of deep thought. "We no can track heem in fresh snow, Lightnin' heem bon tracker, but no bon here."

"But we can't give up yet," Bob told him.

"We no geeve heem up."

"Then what?"

"Mebby we wait two, three day, mebby dey come back, eh?"

"And mebby they won't," Jack added. "But I guess that's as good a plan as any. What do you say, Bob?"

"I reckon it is. To try to follow them under the circumstances would be mere guess work unless we can find some clue on the outside."

"That's a mighty good idea. I never thought of that," Jack said. "Let's get at it."

"Better wait till 'nother day," Lucky advised. "Eet geet dark time we geet back now an' we got nothin' eat."

So, after a little discussion it was decided that they would go back to the camp and come again early in the morning and hunt all day if necessary for a clue.