IX
There is a certain capacity in young and sturdy human beings foraccepting the inevitable. When Virginia wakened the next morning, herphysical distress was largely past and she was in a much better frame ofmind. She pulled herself together, stiffened her young spine, andprepared to make the best of a deplorable situation. She had come uphere to find her lost beloved, and she wasn't defeated yet. This verydevelopment might bring success.
She realized that the fact that she had thus found a measure ofcompensation for the disaster would have been largely unintelligible tomost of the girls of her class,--the girls she knew in the circle inwhich she had moved. It was not the accustomed thing to remain faithfulto a fiance who had been silent an missing for six years, or to seek himin the dreary spaces of the North. The matter got down to the simplefact that these girls were of a different breed. Culture andsophistication and caste had never destroyed an intensity and depths ofelemental passion that might have been native to these very wildernessesin which she was imprisoned. Cool an self-restrained to the fingertips, she knew the full meaning of fidelity. Orphaned almost inbabyhood, she had lived a lonely life: this girlhood love affair of hershad been her single, great adventure. She had been sure that her loverstill lived when all her friends had judged him dead. Months and yearsshe had dreamed of finding him, of sheltering again in his arms, andproving to all the world that her faith was justified.
Bill was already up, and the room warmed from the fire. The noise ofhis ax blows had wakened her. And she took advantage of his absence todress.
"You up?" he cried in delight when she entered. His arms were heapedwith wood. "I'm not sure that you hadn't ought to rest another day.How do you feel?"
"As good as ever, as far as I can tell. And pretty well ashamed ofbeing such a baby yesterday."
But his smile told her that he held no resentment. "I trust you'll beable to eat to-day?"
"Eat? Bill, I am famished. But first"--and her face grew instantlysober--"I want to know just how we stand, and what our chances are. Iremember what you told me yesterday about getting out. But we can'tlive here on nothing. What about supplies?"
"That's what we've got to see about right now. It's an importantmatter, true enough. For a certain very good reason I couldn't make areal investigation till you got up. You'll see why in a minute. Well,we have a gun at least; you can see it behind the stove. It's an oldthing, but it will still shoot. And we've got at least one box ofshells for it--and not one of them must be wasted. They mean our meatsupply. I'm still wearing my pistol, and I've got two boxes of shellsfor it in my pocket--it's a small caliber, and there's fifty in eachbox. There are plenty of blankets and cooking utensils, magazines foridle hours and, Heaven bless us, an old and battered phonograph on thetable. Don't scorn it--anything that has to be packed on a horse thisfar mustn't be scorned. We can have music with our meals, if we like."He stopped and smiled.
"There's a cake of soap on the shelf," he went on, after the gorgeousfact of the phonograph had time to sink home, "and another among thesupplies--but I'm afraid cold cream and toilet water are lacking. Idon't even know how you'll comb your hair."
The girl smiled--really with happiness now--and fished in thepockets of a great slicker coat she had worn the night of the disaster.She produced a little white roll, and with the high glee opened it forhim to see. Wrapped in a miniature face towel was her comb, a smallbrush, and a toothbrush!
They laughed with delight over the find. "But no mirror?" the man saidsolemnly.
"No. I won't be able to see how I look for weeks--and that'sterrible. But where are your food supplies? I see those sacks hangingfrom the ceiling--but they certainly haven't enough to keep us alive.And there's nothing else that I can see."
"We'd have a hard time, if we had to depend on the contents of thosesacks. Miss Tremont, can you cook?"
"Cook? Good Heavens--I never have. But I can learn, I suppose."
"You'd better learn. It will help pass away the time. I'll be busygetting meat and keeping the fires high, among other things."
"But what is there to cook?"
He walked, with some triumph, to the bunk on which she had slept thenight before, and lifting it up, revealed a great box beneath. Sheunderstood, now, why he had not been able to make a previousinvestigation. They danced with joy at its contents,--bags of riceand beans, dried apples, marmalade and canned goods, enough for someweeks at least. Best of all, from Bill's point of view, there were afew aged and ripened plugs of tobacco, for cutting up for his pipe.
"The one thing we haven't got is meat," Bill told her, "except a littlejerky; but there's plenty of that in the woods if we can just find it.And I don't intend to delay about that. If the snow gets much deeper,we'd have to have snowshoes to hunt at all."
"You mean--to go hunting to-day?"
"As soon as we can stir up a meal. How would pancakes taste?"
"Glorious! I'll cook breakfast myself."
"Not breakfast--lunch," he corrected. "It's already about noon. Butit would be very nice if you'd do the cooking while I cut the night'sfuel. You know how--dilute a little canned milk, and a little bakingpowder, stir in your flour--and it's wheat mixed with rye, and bullyflour for flapjacks--and fry 'em thick. Set water to boil and we'llhave coffee, too."
They went to their respective tasks. And the pancakes and coffee, whenat last they were steaming on the little, crude board-table, were reallya very creditable effort. They were thick and rich as befits wildernessflapjacks, but covered with syrup they slid easily down the throat.Bill consumed three of them, full skillet size, and smacked his lipsover the coffee. Virginia managed two herself.
He helped her wash the scanty dishes, then prepared for the hunt. "Doyou want to come?" he asked. "It's a cool, raw day. You'll be morecomfortable here."
"Do you think I'd stay here?" she demanded.
She didn't attempt to analyze her feelings. She only knew that thiscabin, lost in the winter forest, would be a bleak and unhappy place toendure alone. The storm and the snow-swept marshes, with Bill besideher, were infinitely preferable to the haunting fear and loneliness ofsolitude. The change in her attitude toward him had been complete.
Dressing warmly, they ventured out into the snowy wastes. The storm hadneither heightened nor decreased. The snow still sifted down steadily,with a relentlessness that was someway dreadful to the spirit. Thedrifts were about their knees by now; and the mere effort of walking wasa serious business. The winter silence lay deep over the wilderness.
It was a curious thing not to hear the rustle of a branch, the crack ofa twig; only the muffled sound of their footsteps in the snow. Billwalked in front, breaking trail. He carried the ancient rifle ready inhis hands.
The truth was that Bill did not wish to overlook any possible chance forgame. Each hour traveling was more difficult, the snow encroachedhigher, and soon he could not hunt at all without snowshoes. It was notgood for their spirits or their bodies to try to live without meat inthe long snowshoe-making process. This was no realm for vegetarians.The readily assimilated animal flesh was essential to keep their tissuesstrong.
Fortune had not been particularly kind so far on this trip--at leastfrom Virginia's point of view--but he did earnestly hope that theymight run into game at once. Later the moose would go to their winterfeeding grounds, far down the heights. Every day they hunted, theirchance of procuring meat was less.
He led her over the ridge to the marshy shores of Gray Lake,--a dismalbody of water over which the waterfowl circled endlessly and the loonsshrieked their maniacal cries. He noticed, with some apprehension, thatmany sea birds had taken to the lake for refuge,--gulls and theirfellows. This fact meant to the woodsman that great storms were ragingat sea, and they themselves would soon feel the lash of them. Theywaited in the shadow of the spruce.
"Don't make any needless motions," he cautioned, "and don't speak aloud.They've got eyes and ears like hawks."
It was a long wait that they had beside the lake. The short,snow-darkened afternoon had not much longer to last. Bill began to bediscouraged; he knew that for the girl's sake he must leave his watch.He waited a few minutes more.
Then the girl felt his hand on her arm. "Be still," he whispered."Here he comes."
They were both staring in the same directions, but at first Virginiacould not see the game. Her eyes were not yet trained to these wintryforests. It was a strange fact, however, that the announcement was likea hot stimulant in her blood. The sense of cold and fatigue left her inan instant. And soon she made out a black form on the far side of thelake.
"He's coming toward us," the man whispered.
Although she had never seen such an animal before, at once sherecognized its kind. The spreading horns, the great frame, the long,grotesque nose belonged only to the moose,--the greatest of Americanwild animals. Her blood began to race through her veins.
The animal was still out of range, but the distance between them rapidlyshortened. He was following the lake shore, tossing his horns inarrogance. Once he paused and gazed a long time straight toward them,legs braced and head lifted; but evidently reassured he ventured on.Now he was within three hundred yards.
"Why don't you shoot?" the girl whispered.
"I'm afraid to trust this old gun at that range. I could get him withmy thirty-five. Now don't make a motion--or a sound."
Now the creature was near enough so that she could receive some idea ofhis size and power. She knew something of the quagmires such as lay onthe lake shore. She had passed some of them on the journey. But thebull moose took them with an ease and a composure that was thrilling tosee. Where a strong horse would have floundered at the first step, hestretched out his hind quarters, and, striking with his long, powerfulfront legs, pulled through. Then she was aware that Bill was aiming.
At the roar of the rifle she cried out in excitement. The old bull hadtraversed the marches for the last time: he had fought the last fightwith his fellow bulls in the rutting season. He rocked down easily, andBill's racing fingers ejected the shell and threw another into thebarrel, ready to fire again if need be. But no second bullet wasrequired. The man's aim had been straight and true, and the bullet hadpierced his heart.
The two of them danced and shouted in the snow. And Virginia did notstop to think that the stress of the moment had swept her back athousand--thousand years, and that her joy was simply the rapture ofthe cave woman, mad with blood lust, beside her mate.
The Snowshoe Trail Page 9
