CHAPTER VI.

A NORTHERN BLIZZARD.

It was still dark when Bob awoke again, but the smell of frying bacon, which came to his nostrils as he raised his head, told him that it was morning and time to get up. The wind was blowing hard as he could tell by the sound of the tree tops and a fine snow was drifting in even beneath the tree and he saw that both Jack and himself were nearly buried in it.

"Time to get up," he said giving his brother a shake.

"Huh."

"I said it's time to get up," Bob repeated.

"Oh, all right," and in another minute Jack had wiggled out of his bag. "Gee, it's storming all right, isn't it?"

"I'll say it is. Hear that wind."

"Heap beeg snow outside," Lucky declared as they came close to the fire.

"It must be coming down pretty fast," Bob agreed as he noticed that even in the thick woods several inches had fallen.

"Will it last all day?" Bob asked.

"Mebby."

"But we can keep on just the same?"

"Oui, in the woods heem not so bad."

"How long'll we be in the woods?" Jack asked.

"Fifty, seexty mile."

"Then we won't be out today, that's certain."

It was eight o'clock when they started and still dark. The going was much harder than the day before as the newly fallen snow made the footing even more insecure.

"We'll be lucky if we make twenty miles today," Bob told Jack before they had gone a mile.

Although the thick trees sheltered them to a large extent from the fury of the storm, which had now nearly assumed the proportions of a blizzard, yet the sharp particles of snow stung their faces like needles whenever an open space allowed the wind to reach them with anything like its full force. The snow was also getting deeper and deeper and for the last half mile the Indian had been breaking trail ahead of the team.

"It must be fierce out in the open," Jack declared as they paused for a rest shortly after nine o'clock.

"Heem heap bad," Lucky agreed.

"And it seems to be getting worse instead of better," Bob added as he glanced up through an open space between the trees.

"It's sure howling some," Jack agreed.

"I think you better put on snow-shoe now," Lucky advised as they were about to start off again. "White boys know um?"

"You bet," Bob assured him. "We were raised in Maine you know and, believe me, they have some snow up there."

"But you can't break trail with snow-shoes on," Jack objected.

"Non, no can. Injun no put um on."

"Then we're going to take turns at it," Bob declared.

"Injun break trail."

"Not now, he won't," Bob insisted shaking his head as Lucky held out a pair of snow-shoes which he had taken from the pack on the sled. "You put them on, I'm going to break trail for awhile."

"But Injun--"

"I know, you'd do all the work if we'd let you, but we're going to do our share," Bob insisted.

Seeing that the boy was determined the Indian did not insist further, but thrust his feet into the straps and motioned Bob to go ahead. There was still enough of the trail left so that he had no trouble in keeping the path, but it was filling rapidly and in places the snow was already drifted even across it. He had expected to find it hard work, but it was harder than he had thought it would be. But he was strong and not afraid of hard work so he kept at it until Jack sang out that it was his turn.

"It's getting pretty hard to see the trail and you'll have to be careful," he advised as he slipped his feet into the shoes which Jack had been wearing.

"Injun know heem get off trail," Lucky assured them.

Bob judged that they had been making about two miles an hour and the Indian agreed with him when he mentioned it.

"And I reckon we'll go slower before we go faster," Jack said. "Just listen to that wind."

"Do you suppose those wolves are following us?" Bob asked the Indian a few minutes later.

"Mebby."

"I thought I heard one howl just then, but perhaps it was only the wind."

"Injun hear heem."

"Are they timber wolves?"

"Oui."

"Will they attack a man?"

"Mebby."

"But not likely?"

"Them geet a man alone them go for heem, not likely three mans."

Bob was not frightened, but he always liked to know just what he was up against and he had read so many stories in which wolves, and especially timber wolves, had attacked men that he was a bit worried.

"I suppose one could get up in a tree if they should attack us," he suggested.

"Oui, but them no geet us," the Indian assured him.

At noon they halted in a sheltered place for dinner and several times while eating they heard the howls of the wolves, but they were at some distance and the Indian assured them that there was no danger.

During the afternoon the storm increased in violence but they kept steadily on breaking trail by turns in short shifts. The old tracks had disappeared sometime ago and the Indian was obliged to continually shout directions when either of the boys were in the lead. In spite of the fact that one or the other always went ahead of the dogs it was hard work for them to drag the sled along and at three o'clock Lucky decided that they had better call it a day.

"Them dog heem ver' tired," he said.

"And it's no wonder," Bob agreed.

"They got nothing on me at that," Jack declared.

Although still early in the afternoon dusk was already beginning to creep over the forest and they knew that it would be dark in another hour.

As on the previous day the boys cut boughs for the beds while the Indian attended to the dogs and started the fire.

"We geet heap plenty wood," he told them as soon as they had brought in enough boughs. "Fire burn plenty fast in wind."

"You bet we want plenty," Jack agreed.

"Enough to entertain all comers," Bob added.

"We'll get it while you're getting supper," Jack told him and the Indian nodded assent.

But it was not so easy to keep his promise as he had thought. The snow was now so deep that all the dead underbrush was buried out of sight and the darkness was rapidly increasing.

"Looks kind of dubious," Jack said after they had been hunting for several minutes.

"I'll say it does, but we've got to find some and that's all there is to it," Bob replied. "I don't want those wolves nibbling at my toes tonight."

"I reckon they'd nibble more than your toes if they got that close," Jack declared. "But here's what we want so I guess your tootsies are safe."

He had found a dead tree almost ready to fall over and, as he spoke he gave it a shove and down it came.

"If it hasn't all gone to punk," Bob said as he came up.

A quick examination proved that, although the tree had been dead for some time, it was still fit for firewood and they set to work to cut it up so that they could drag it to the camp some fifty feet away.

"Think this one'll be enough?" Jack asked as he started off with the butt.

"I don't know, but we'd better get more if we can."

But by the time they had dragged the different parts of the tree up to where Lucky had started a fire with some dead branches which he had found close by, he told them that they had enough.

"You sure?" Bob asked anxiously.

"I think so but mebby you find one more."

"Come on, Jack," Bob said as he started back. "I think I saw another dead one close by that one."

It was now so dark that they could see but a few feet ahead of them and they were obliged to be very careful with the axes to avoid an accident, but they finally got the other tree cut up and dragged into camp.

"Now I feel better," Bob declared.

"Supper heem ready," came the welcome announcement just as they were putting away the axes.

All that night the storm raged. Several times during the night they heard the howls of wolves above the noise of the storm, but they did not come very near thanks undoubtedly to the fire which the Indian kept burning brightly all the time. It was eight o'clock when Lucky awoke them to find that the storm had nearly blown itself out and that breakfast was ready. Over a foot more of snow had fallen and they knew that their progress would be slow that day.

"It's almost as bad as the case of the frog jumping out of the well," Jack declared as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"How was that?" Bob asked.

"Why, every time he jumped up two feet he fell back three."

"Well, we're more'n holding our own and that's better than he did."

Four more days passed and Saturday night came. In spite of the deep snow they had on the whole made fairly good time as their muscles were hardening and they were able to maintain a faster pace. There had been no more snow and that which had fallen had drifted so hard that in most places it held the sled and dogs though, of course, Lucky and the boys were obliged to wear snow-shoes. In view of the fact that they were on a trip where time might mean a man's life they had decided that they were justified in traveling on Sunday although under other circumstances they would not have considered it. The weather had been cold, the thermometer rarely getting above ten below zero and one morning it had sunk to thirty below.

Each night they had heard the howls of timber wolves and a number of times they had caught sight of a slim gray form in the distance. The knowledge that the pack was still following them was far from comforting but, being well armed with both rifles and revolvers, they had no real fear.

Thursday morning Jack had shot a small buck deer and the meat was a very welcome addition to their larder as they had brought with them only enough fresh meat for a couple of days. Their respect and liking for the Indian increased every day for they found him not only abounding in resourcefulness, but he had proved, as Jack put it, a mighty likeable fellow.

"I always thought Indians were solemn and never laughed or anything of that sort," he said to Bob one day as they were some distance behind the sled, Lucky leading the way.

"They usually are more or less that way, but Lucky can laugh as well as the next fellow."

"You bet he can. Probably it's the way he's been brought up," Jack suggested.

"We heet river one more day," Lucky told them that night as they were washing up after supper.

"You mean we'll be there tomorrow night?" Bob asked.

"Heem 'bout forty mile," Lucky said.

"Then we'll make it sure," Jack declared.

Besides the Canuck they had encountered their first day out they had seen but two men and these they had met the day after the storm. They had seemed well disposed Canucks and, learning that they had come from up the river, they had inquired if they had seen anything of their uncle. But neither of them had.

It was just as dusk was beginning to settle the next day that they came in sight of the river. For a couple of miles they had been climbing a gentle slope, and, as they reached the top, they could see two rivers about a mile away.

"Big one heem Yukon an' leetle one Kayakuk," Lucky told them pointing with his hand.

"But how do we get down to it?" Bob asked. "It looks as though it went off almost perpendicularly here and it must be a drop of nearly a hundred feet."

"Path down off jest leetle way. Injun show you."

Bob was about to turn back when a startled cry from Jack, who had been standing a few feet nearer the edge of the hill, made him look around just in time to see his brother disappear over the edge together with a vast smother of snow. For an instant he was petrified with fear.

"He--he's gone," he gasped. Then, as reason returned, he shouted:

"Jack! Jack!"

But there was no answer. The Indian had said nothing, but Bob could see that he was shaking as with the palsy.

"Where's that pass down?" he shouted. "Maybe he's not dead."

The question seemed to galvanize the Indian to action and, leaving the dogs, he led the way a little to the right where a more gentle descent offered.

"White boy be careful," the Indian cautioned as Bob started down, but he had no thought but to get to the bottom as quickly as possible.

It was very steep even here and several times he lost his footing and fell, once turning over three or four times before recovering himself. Only one thought was in his mind--Jack was in danger, perhaps dead. It seemed to the frantic boy that ages passed before he reached the bottom, but in reality it was only a few seconds. The last twenty feet or so was the steepest and, in his rush, he tripped and rolled to the bottom. But he was not hurt and, quickly picking himself up, he started as fast as he could go for the place where Jack had gone over. A projection cut off his view until he was within a few feet of the spot.

"O, God, don't let him be dead," he prayed as he hurried along.

With his heart in his mouth he rounded the turn and the next instant a low cry of joy burst from his lips. There, not twenty feet away sat Jack rubbing his eyes as though he had just woke up. At Bob's cry he turned.

"Why didn't you come down by the short route?" he grinned.

"Thank God," Bob breathed as he hastened to Jack's side. "Jack, boy, I--I thought you were killed," he sobbed.

"Well, not so you'd notice it," Jack assured him.

"White boy sure no hurt? Heap bad fall."

Lucky was standing just behind Bob a look of intense relief on his face.

"Well, I haven't had time yet to take account of stock, but so far's I know I'm all here."

"It's a miracle you weren't killed."

"Oh, I don't know. You see, so much snow came down with me that I lit as light as a feather." Jack grinned.

"Didn't you hear me yelling?" Bob asked.

"No. You see I was about six feet more or less underneath when I landed and about the time you were yelling I reckon I was pawing my way surfaceward."

"Where are your snow-shoes?" Bob asked.

"Down below. I'm afraid they didn't come through as well as I did."

"White boys stay here Injun git team, git shovel." Lucky turned and was gone before they had time to say anything.

"Believe me, he was one scared Indian when he saw you go over that cliff. Don't ever tell me that Indians have no feelings or that they never show them. If ever I saw fear and sorrow on a human face if was then."

"I'd like to have seen him," Jack said as he got to his feet.

"Well, I never want to see it again," Bob assured him.

"And, of course I wouldn't want anything to happen to bring it there. I didn't mean that. Only I've always thought that Indians never did show their feelings, you know."

It was nearly half an hour before Lucky came around the bend with the team as he had to go some little distance before finding a place where he could get the sled down safely. Stopping the team he quickly got a shovel from the stores and in a few minutes had recovered the shoes. As Jack had thought they had not come off as well as he. One of the frames was broken and several of the strips of rawhide had snapped in the other.

"Not much bust," the Indian told them as he held them up. "Injun got one more pair an' heem feex dees in queek time tonight."

If was almost dark by the time the Indian had found the extra pair of snow-shoes and they were ready to start once more. About a mile up the smaller river from where it emptied into the Yukon they had seen a small piece of woods and the Indian told them that they would make camp there for the night.

"Leetle town 'bout twenty mile up river," Lucky told them after they had eaten supper and were sitting around the fire.

"What's its name?" Bob asked.

"Heem name Red Shirt."

"Red what?" Jack demanded.

"Heem Red Shirt."

"Some name."

"How big a town is it?" Bob asked.

"Not beeg. You mean how leetle heem be, eh?"

"All right, how little is it?" Bob laughed.

"Heem seex mebby seven cabin. Mebby twenty Injuns an' Canucks."

"Wonder if they have movies there?" Jack smiled.

"What heem?"

"Didn't you ever see moving pictures?"

"What heem?" the Indian asked again.

Jack described the moving picture as well as he was able, but it was evident that the Indian did not get a very good idea of what he was talking about.