On the Edge of the Arctic; Or, An Aeroplane in Snowland

by H. L. Sayler

  CHAPTER XVI

  ROY CONDUCTS A HUNT

  "At first," he said, "it looked simple enough. So far as this letter isconcerned, I'm not bothered. That is, I'm not afraid of Ewen and Miller.But Chandler's proposition is another matter. It's plain enough that hewanted our men to join him and go to Edmonton and file papers on thisclaim. But that isn't as ridiculous as it appears. You know," he said,"Mr. Zept asked me if I hadn't grubstaked these fellows. If they couldmake it appear that I had, then part of this claim would belong to them.And if they all got together and swore that I had, I don't know how Icould prove that they were working for me on wages. Even if our own menwould testify for me that this was my claim, if Chandler should happen tofile his papers, this would cloud my title. Besides," went on thecolonel, "Chandler is a naturalized Canadian and you know the mining lawsup here are not made to favor the outsider. A foreigner such as I am,when he's working in these unsurveyed districts, can only stake out hisclaim, wait for the survey and then buy the property. Chandler would haveit all over me if he set up the claim of a native, especially ahead ofme."

  "I don't think he's gone," suggested Paul, "for he ate breakfast hereyesterday morning."

  "And it's somewhere between two hundred and fifty and three hundred milesbetween here and the land office," exclaimed Norman.

  "It would be interesting to know whether he has gone," answered ColonelHowell.

  "Why not ask Miller or Ewen?" broke in Roy. "They might know somethingabout him."

  Colonel Howell shook his head: "They'd better know nothing about theletter," he answered at last. "It was written a long time ago."

  "You mean they may have changed their minds?" asked Norman.

  "I don't mean that," answered Colonel Howell, his face again sober, "butthey had the matter under consideration once. I don't suspect them. I'lljust keep my eyes open and say nothing. If they are all right they mightget sore and leave me."

  "Do you mind," asked Roy, "if I go out and do a little investigating?Chandler may be over to Fort McMurray."

  The colonel thought a moment and then answered:

  "That won't do any harm. All of you might go hunting this afternoon overin that direction--if it isn't too cold."

  Eagerly enough the boys accepted the suggestion. Protected by their heavyclothing and carrying the camera and their skin-protected rifles, theyfound the trip to the settlement only exhilarating. At Fort McMurray thetemperature, which was twenty-two below zero, did not give much troubleso long as the wind did not blow. To those whom they met, the boys talkedof being on their way to the hills for moose. But later they determinednot to venture upon the highlands, deciding to make a detour in thetimber on their way back for a possible deer.

  They had no trouble in getting trace of Chandler. In the cabin of a whiteprospector, where Chandler was well known, they picked up the latest towngossip. This was that Chandler, who yet seemed to have plenty of money,had hired Pete Fosseneuve, a half-breed, only two days before to take himback to his trapping camp at Pointe aux Tremble.

  "He's been working there all fall," explained their informant, "andFosseneuve has a team of six fine dogs. He paid Pete a lot of money totake him back to his camp night before last. They ought to be thereto-morrow some time."

  This statement allayed the suspicion directed against the dissoluteEnglishman and the young men made an early return to the camp.

  "I'm glad I didn't say anything to Ewen and Miller," commented ColonelHowell, when he learned that Chandler had gone still further into thewoods. "Now we'll get to work on our prospecting in earnest."

  When the controlled gas had been piped into the cabin, in spite of thecold weather, Ewen and Miller at once went to work building a new derricknear the best prospect and sledging the boiler and engine to thatlocation. In this work nearly a week went by, the boys finding little todo. The weather seemed settled into a cold spell in which the thermometerranged at noonday about twenty below.

  It was at this time that a long suppressed ambition of Norman and Roycame to the surface. They wanted a real hunting trip. The three young menwere natural lovers of the open and curious about animal life in thewilderness. But, so far, none of the younger members of the camp hadreally had an opportunity to test himself amid the rigors of a northernwinter.

  Colonel Howell finally consented to their leaving on a hunting expeditionthat would give them at least one over-night camp in the snow. This wason the condition that Philip should accompany the shooting party and thatit should not proceed over a day's march from camp.

  The plan of the hunt was really Roy's. He prepared the provisions and wasaccepted as leader of the party.

  "It wouldn't be any trouble to equip ourselves like tenderfeet," heexplained to Colonel Howell, "and to make a featherbed trip of this. Butwe're going to travel like trappers."

  The hunt was to be for caribou back over the hills in the direction ofthe Barren Lands. In the end Colonel Howell agreed that the party mightadvance two days' travel into the wilderness but that it must return tocamp on the evening of the fourth day.

  Less than an hour's preparation was necessary and when Philip and thethree boys left camp one morning, the expedition had little appearance ofthe usual, heavily laden winter hunters. Each member of the party was onsnowshoes, and behind them they drew a small sled containing their campequipment. It was hardly more than a packload for a strong Indian but thesled was taken in the hope that it might bring in a return load of freshmeat.

  Philip and Norman carried rifles carefully protected in mooseskin cases.Paul carried nothing but his camera and an automatic revolver. Roy tookthe first turn at the sled. The morning was fair but cold, and the brightsun had no effect upon the snow-laden trees.

  When the enthusiastic hunters reached the Fort McMurray settlement justbelow the camp they left the river and struck inland. Within an hour theyhad passed through the pines and poplars fringing the river and hadreached the summit of a "hog-back" range of hills beyond which there wasknown to be a little valley running at right angles to the course of theriver.

  When the four travelers reached the top of the "hog-back" and saw thefrozen snow-covered valley before them, like children out for a lark,Philip no less active than the others, they coasted into the valley.Until the sun was high above them they made their way along the frozencreek toward the head of the wide defile. About noon, camp was made, teawas brewed and, partly behind the protection of a little frozenwaterfall, bannock and cold meat were added to the hot tea. No time waslost in cooking.

  With faces and ears protected by their heavy caps, and with heavy mittensto guard their fingers against frost bite, not one of the partycomplained of the intense cold.

  "It's all right," explained Philip, "unless the wind comes up, and if itdoes we'll have to go into camp."

  But in the valley no wind arose to make any trouble. The party setforward to reach the head of the valley before time to go into camp. Theydid this by three o'clock and then, mounting an elevation and passingthrough a thin fringe of dwarf pines, the boys found themselves on awind-swept plateau where the snow clung with difficulty.

  They had seen plenty of deer, rabbits and small game during the day buthad done no shooting. They were after caribou or moose. The first lookover the desolate plateau, where not even trees broke the landscape, wasfar from inviting. As the sun began to go down and little was to be seenother than a few rocky irregularities and a thin covering of snow withdrifts here and there like white islands, camp prospects were not asinviting as they had seemed in the valley behind them.

  "Come on," exclaimed Roy, as the party paused on the edge of the heights."This begins to look like the real thing."

  "Maybe some moose," was Philip's rejoinder. "No moose track on de valleybelow."

  "Hear that?" exclaimed Roy. "Everybody get busy. I reckon we can't go anyfarther inland to-night than that heap o' rock way over there." Hepointed to a barren elevation on the already darkening horizon. "Youhunters," he added, indicating Norman and Philip, "ou
ght to spread outand look for game tracks in the swales to the right and left. But don'tgo too far. Work your way in toward those rocks before night. You'll findus there. Come on, Paul," he added with unusual enthusiasm, consideringthat it was rapidly growing colder in the open country, "there's probablyno wood over there. You and I'll get some here and meet the hunters atthe rock pile."

  While Norman and the Indian started out, Roy loosened the axe and drewthe sled back into the pine scrub to look for fallen timber. This was atedious process and it was even more of a task to load the firewood ontothe sled.

  "The tent'll fix us all right," explained Roy as he backed against thewind and began to dump his firewood on the snow. "But first we've got tomake a camp site. Take off your snowshoes."

  Where the wind had been cutting over the tops of the rocks a sort ofvacuum had been formed behind the ridge and into this the snow had beenpiled up to a depth of four or five feet. With a snowshoe, each boytackled this bank. Soon they had dug a pit in it about ten by ten feet.By throwing the loose snow around the edge of this they created a wallabout seven feet high.

  "Now I'll show you a trick I read about," exclaimed Roy.

  From the pine grove on the edge of the plateau he had dragged the slendertrunk of a poplar tree about twelve feet long. This he now threw over theopening in the snow, making a sort of a ridge pole, and then with Paul'sassistance unrolled the tent and spread it across. While Paul held theedges of the somewhat awkward canvas in place on top of the snow wall Roypiled snow on the ends of the canvas and just as it was too dark to seemore the excavation was thoroughly roofed except in one corner where theirregular canvas did not fit.

  "We need that for a chimney opening anyway," exclaimed Roy.

  Before a fire could be started, however, there was the sound of a rifleoff to the south, to which Paul responded with a pistol shot. Then thecamp makers carried their wood into the snow house and while Paulattended to their scanty food supply and arranged the sleeping bags asrugs on the crisp snow floor, Roy started a fire. The blaze emphasizedthe darkness without and, realizing that their companions had no signal,the two boys split up a torch with the axe and carried it outside where,while they could keep it alight, it might serve as a beacon.

  But this was not necessary. Both the Indian and Norman came in, guided byPaul's revolver shot. Neither reported signs of game. Both were elatedover the house which was already so warm within that the heavy coats andmittens could be discarded.

  "I s'pose supper's all ready," exclaimed Norman after he had got hisnumbed limbs warmed.

  "No," answered Roy, "I've just been waiting for you so we could have itall fresh and hot. I'm going to prepare it myself and everything's goingto be in trapper style. It won't be much but it's all you need and it'saccording to the rules and regulations. I've already got my hot water.Now I'll get the bannocks ready."

  "Didn't you bring those I made for you?" asked Philip, the camp cook andhunter.

  "I prefer to make 'em myself," answered Roy, "just as the Indians make'em in the woods."

  Philip smiled and Norman and Paul looked somewhat disappointed butneither made objection.

  "Here's my flour," explained Roy who had already rolled up his sweatersleeves and produced an old flour bag with a few pounds of flour in thebottom of it. "I mixed the baking powder with the flour before we leftcamp so as to save time," he explained.

  "Seems to me we've got all night," interrupted Norman. "They don't dothat to save time--you're mixed. They do that to save carrying the bakingpowder in a separate package."

  "Anyway," retorted Roy, "it's the way real trappers do."

  He had rolled the sides of the sack down to make a kind of receptacle atthe bottom of which lay his flour. Then with a piece of wood he pried offthe top of the tea kettle and was about to pour some boiling water ontothe flour when Philip with a grunt stopped him.

  "Non," exclaimed the Indian. "You spoil him."

  Over Roy's feeble protest the Indian scooped up snow and deposited it inthe boiling water until the fluid was somewhat cooler. Then he passed thekettle to the waiting Roy who began to mix his Indian bread. But hadPhilip allowed Roy to proceed in his generous application of water, hisproposed bannocks would have resulted in flour paste. In the end, becauseRoy had to get his pork ready, the volunteer cook permitted Philip tofinish the fashioning of a bannock as big as the frying pan,--the onlycooking utensil that Roy had thought necessary to bring with them.

  "Now," exclaimed Roy, as he deposited a generous piece of salt pork inthe frying pan, "I'll show you how the hungry trapper makes a supper fitfor a king."

  As the pork began to sizzle in the pan those who were eagerly watchingthe amateur cook saw the piece separating into thin sections.

  "You see, that's what we trappers always do," explained Roy ratherproudly. "You can't slice pork when it's frozen solid. I sliced my porkbefore we left camp this morning."

  By this time the rashers of pork were swimming about in the hot fat likedoughnuts in bubbling lard.

  "It certainly smells all right," exclaimed Paul, as the appetizing odorfrom the frying meat filled the snow cave. "Hurry up and give us apiece."

  Roy made no reply but busied himself stirring the bits of meat with thepoint of his knife.

  "Is the bread ready?" the cook asked, turning to Philip.

  The Indian only pointed to the big ball of dough flattened out like agigantic pancake and ready for the skillet.

  There upon Roy seized the handle of his frying pan, shifted the skilletto one side and, resting it on the snow, began to flip the bits of saltpork onto the snow floor.

  "Here, what are you doing?" shouted Norman.

  "You don't eat those scraps," announced Roy positively. "The only good inpork is the fat and the fat's all in the skillet. We trappers give thesescraps to the dogs--only we ain't got any dogs."

  "Well I'll be a dog all right," exclaimed Norman and as fast as Royflipped the brown rashers out with his knife point Norman and Paulgrabbed them up.

  "There ain't any need of doin' that," snorted Roy. "I tell you thereain't any good in those things and it's against all the rules anyhow.You'll get all the fat you want when our bannock's done."

  "Well, then, why don't you start it?" asked Paul. "I suppose it'll takeit an hour to cook. And your fat's getting cold anyway."

  "That's where you show your ignorance," retorted Roy. "I suppose youfellows think I don't know my business. If I'd put that bannock rightinto this hot fat it would have fried like a doughnut. I've got to getthis grease soaked up in my bread. That's why I'm lettin' the grease getcool."

  With this he took the flat looking loaf from the Indian's hands andslipped it into the already nearly full frying pan. But Roy knew hislimitations. As he lifted the pan back upon the coals and the greasebegan to sizzle and snap he knew that he had exhausted his culinaryknowledge.

  "Here," he said to the Indian, "you can watch this while it cooks."

  With a smile the Indian took the handle of the pan, shook it deftly a fewtimes, lifted the edge of the dough with skilled fingers and then settledthe pan upon a bed of coals just outside the heart of the fire and,squatted by its side, carefully watched the baking. Meanwhile, Norman andPaul were crunching bacon scraps while Roy was mopping his perspiringbrow with the sleeve of his sweater.

  "If that's all we're going to have," broke in Norman, "I want to gohome."

  But that was all they did have. The conscientious Roy, who had given thesubject much consideration, had carefully refrained from bringing anyluxuries other than tea and a little sugar. But by the time the bannockwas done--and the Indian knew how to cook it--the three boys had becomeso hungry that the Indian bread was eaten ravenously. Then the partycrept into their sleeping bags at an early hour and passed the nightwithout discomfort.

  Philip took charge of the camp in the morning and before the boys creptout of their bags he served each of them with a cup of hot tea. When theboys looked outside of their snow tent it seemed hardly dawn and yet itwas aft
er eight o'clock. Philip shook his head and announced prospects ofbad weather. There was no sun and, although it was no colder than it hadbeen the day before, there was a gloom over all that suggested a storm.

  Not one of the boys would have suggested it but the Indian did nothesitate to warn them that they should return to the camp at once.

  "I don't know how I would vote on this question," said Norman, "if we'dhad proper provisions. But I don't propose to live three more days on the_ghost_ of salt pork. And, besides, we've got plenty of moose meat incamp. I'm not so keen about going to the Barren Lands as I was."

  This was why late that afternoon Colonel Howell was both surprised andglad to see his young friends trot into camp.