CHAPTER VII.
A THRILLING EXPERIENCE.
Frank was very happy now that the way had been so opportunely opened forhim to take part in the whole round of lumbering operations. He awaitedwith impatience the coming of noon and the rush of hungry men to theirhearty dinner, because it was the signal for his release from chore-boywork and promotion to the more honourable position of assistant-teamster.The long afternoons out in the cold, crisp air, amid the thud ofwell-aimed axes, the crash of falling trees, the shouts of busy men, andall the other noisy incidents of the war they were waging against theinnocent, defenceless forest, were precisely what his heart had craved solong, and he felt clearer than ever in his mind that lumbering was thelife for him.
After he had been a week at his new employment, Con Murphy, the bigteamster to whom he had been assigned by the foreman, with the injunctionto "be easy on the lad, and give him plenty of time to get handy," washeard to say in public,--
"Faith, an' he's a broth of a boy, I can tell you; and I wouldn't givehim for half-a-dozen of those _parlez-vous_ Frenchies like the chap whoseplace he took--indade that I wouldn't."
Which, coming to Damase's ears, added further fuel to the fire ofjealousy and hate that was burning within this half-savage creature'sbreast. So fierce indeed were Damase's feelings that he could not keepthem concealed, and more than one of the shantymen took occasion to dropa word of warning into Frank's ear about him.
"You'd better keep a sharp eye on that chap Damase, Frank," they wouldsay. "He's an ugly customer, and he seems to have got it in for you."Frank, on his part, was by no means disposed to laugh at or neglect thesekindly warnings. Indeed, he fully intended repeating them to Johnston atthe first opportunity. But the days slipped by without a favourablechance presenting itself, and Damase's wild thirst for the revenge whichhe thought was merited came perilously near a dreadful satisfaction.
February had come, and supplies at the shanty were running low, so thatForeman Johnston deemed it necessary to pay a visit to the depot to seeabout having a fresh stock sent out. The first that Frank knew of hisintention was the night before he started. He had gone into the foreman'slittle room as usual to read his Bible and pray, and having finished, wasabout to slip quietly out, Johnston having apparently been quiteunobservant of his presence, when he was asked,--
"How would you like to go over to the depot with me to-morrow?"
How would he like! Such a question to ask of a boy, when it meant atwenty-five miles' drive and a whole day's holiday after months of steadywork at the camp!
"I should be delighted, sir," replied Frank, as promptly as he could getthe words out.
"Very well, then; you can come along with me. We'll start right afterbreakfast. Baptiste will have to look after himself for one day," saidthe foreman. And with a fervent "Thank you, sir," Frank went off, hisface wreathed with smiles and his heart throbbing with joy at theprospect before him.
So eager was he that it did not need Johnston's shout of "Turn out, lads,turn out!" to waken him next morning, for he was wide awake already, andhe tumbled into his clothes with quite unusual alacrity. So soon asbreakfast was over, the foreman had one of the best horses in the stableharnessed to his "jumper," as the low, strong, comfortable wooden sleighthat is alone able to cope with the rough forest roads is called;abundance of thick warm buffalo-robes were provided; and then he andFrank tucked themselves in tightly, and they set out on their long driveto the depot.
The mercury stood at twenty degrees below zero when they started, butthey did not mind that. Not a breath of wind stirred the clear cold air.The sun soon rose into the blue vault above them, and shone down uponthe vast expanse of snow about them with a vigour that made their eyesblink. The horse was a fine animal, and, having been off duty for a fewdays previous, was full of speed and spirit, and they glided over thewell-beaten portion of the road at a dashing pace. But when they came tothe part over which there had been little travel all winter long thegoing was too heavy for much speed, and often the horse could not do morethan walk.
This seemed to Frank just the opportunity for which he had been waiting,to tell the foreman about Damase and his threats of revenge. At firstJohnston was disposed to make light of the matter, but when Frank toldhim what he had himself observed, as well as what had been reported tohim by the others, the foreman was sufficiently impressed to say,--
"The rascal wants some looking after, that's clear. He's a worthlessfellow, anyway, and I'm mighty sorry I ever let him into my gang. I thinkthe best thing will be to drop him as soon as I get back, or he may makesome trouble for us. I'm glad you told me this, Frank. I won't forgetit."
At the depot they found Alec Stewart, just returned from a tour ofinspection of the different camps, and full of hearty welcome. He wasvery glad to see Frank.
"Ah ha, my boy!" he cried, slapping him vigorously on the back, "Ineedn't ask you how you are. Your looks answer for you. Why, you mustweigh ten pounds more than when I last saw you. Well, what do you thinkof lumbering now, and how does Mr. Johnston treat you? They tell me,"looking at the foreman with a sly smile, "that he's a mighty stiff boss.Is that the way you find him?"
Frank was ready enough to answer all his friend's questions, and toassure him that the foreman treated him like a kind father, and that hehimself was fonder of lumbering than ever. Both he and Johnston hadfamous appetites for the bountiful dinner that was soon spread beforethem, and the resources of the depot permitting of a much more extensivebill of fare than was possible at the shanty, he felt in duty bound toapologize for the avidity with which he attacked the juicy roast of beef,the pearly potatoes, the toothsome pudding, and the other dainties that,after months of pork and beans, tasted like ambrosia.
The superintendent and the foreman had much to say to one another whichdid not concern Frank, and so while they talked business he roamed aboutthe place, enjoying the freedom from work, and chatting with the men atthe depot, telling them some of his experiences and being told some oftheirs in return. Happening to mention Damase Deschenaux, one of themen at once exclaimed,--
"That's a first-class scoundrel! It beats me to understand why Johnstonhas him in his gang. He's sure to raise trouble wherever he goes."
Frank felt tempted to tell how Damase had "raised trouble" with him, butthought he would better not, and the talk soon turned in anotherdirection.
The afternoon was waning before Johnston prepared to start on the returnjourney, and Mr. Stewart tried hard to persuade him to stay for thenight--an invitation that Frank devoutly hoped would be accepted. But thebig foreman would not hear of it.
"No, no," said be in his decided way, "I must get back to the shanty.There's been only half a day's work done to-day, I'll warrant you,because I wasn't on hand to keep the beggars at it. Why, they'll lieabed till mid-day to-morrow if I'm not there to rouse them out of theirbunks."
Whatever Johnston said he stuck to, so there was no use in argument, andshortly after four o'clock he and Frank tucked themselves snugly into thejumper again and drove away from the depot, Stewart shouting afterthem,--
"If you change your mind after you've gone a couple of miles, don't feeldelicate about coming back. I won't laugh at you."
Johnston's only answer was a grim smile and a crack of the whip over thehorse's hind-quarters that sent him off at full gallop, the snow flyingin clouds from his plunging feet into the faces of his passengers.
The hours crept by as the sleigh made its slow way over the heavy ground,and Frank, as might be expected after the big dinner he had eaten, beganto feel very sleepy. There was no reason why he should not yield to theseductive influence of the drowsy god, so, sinking down low into the seatand drawing the buffalo-robe up over his head, he soon was lost to sightand sense. While he slept the night fell, and they were still many milesfrom home. The cold was great, but not a breath of wind stirred theintense stillness. The stars shone out like flashing diamonds set inlapis-lazuli. Silence reigned supreme, save as it was intruded upon bythe heavy breathi
ng of the frost-flaked horse and the crunching of therunners through the crisp snow.
Johnston felt glad when they breasted the hill on the other side of whichwas Deep Gully, crossed by a rude corduroy bridge; for that bridge wasjust five miles from the camp, and another hour, at the farthest, wouldbring them to the end of their journey.
When the top of the hill was reached, the foreman gathered up the reins,called upon the horse to quicken his pace, and away they went down theslope at a tearing gallop.
Deep Gully well deserved the name that had been given it when the roadwas made. A turbulent torrent among the hills had in the course of timeeaten a way for itself, which, although very narrow, made up for its lackof breadth by a great degree of depth. It was a rather picturesque placein summer time, when abundant foliage softened its steep sides; but inwinter, when it seemed more like a crevasse in a glacier than anythingelse, there was no charm about it. The bridge that crossed it was a verysimple affair, consisting merely of two long stringers laid six feetapart, and covered with flattened timbers.
Upon this slight structure the jumper descended with a bump that wokeFrank from his pleasant nap, and, putting aside the buffalo-robe, he satup in the sleigh to gather his wits. It was well he did, for if ever heneeded them it was at that moment. Almost simultaneous with the thud ofthe horse's feet upon the bridge there came a crash, a sound of rendingtimbers, the bridge quivered like a ship struck by a mighty billow, andthe next instant dropped into the chasm below, bearing with it a man, andboy, and horse, and sleigh!
Full thirty feet they fell; the bridge, which had given way at one endonly, hurling them from it so that they landed at the bottom of DeepGully in a confused heap, yet happily free from entanglement with itstimbers. So soon as he felt himself falling Frank threw aside the robesand made ready to spring; but Johnston instinctively held on to thereins, with the result that, being suddenly dragged forward by thefrantic plunging of the terrified animal, he received a kick in theforehead that rendered him insensible, and would have dashed his brainsout but for the thick fur cap he wore, while the jumper, turning overupon him, wrenched his leg so as to render him completely helpless.
Frank was more fortunate. His timely spring, aided by the impetus oftheir descent, carried him clear of the horse and sleigh, and sent himheadlong into a deep drift that filled a hollow at the gully's bottom.The snow-bank opened its arms to receive him, and buried him to the hips.The first shock completely deprived him of breath, and almost of hissenses too. But beyond that he received no injury, and was soonstruggling with all his might to free himself from the snow that held himcaptive. This proved to be no easy task. He was pretty firmly embedded,and at first it seemed as though his efforts at release only made hisposition worse.
"This is a fine fix to be in!" said he to himself. "Buried in asnow-drift; and dear knows what's happened to Mr. Johnston."
He had been hoping that the foreman would come to his assistance, butgetting no reply to his shouts, he began to fear lest his companion mightbe unable to render any help. Perhaps, indeed, he might be dead! Thethought roused him to still greater exertions, and at last by a heroiceffort he succeeded in turning a kind of somersault in his cold prison,which had the happy result of putting his head where his heels had been.To scramble out altogether was then an easy job, and in another instanthe was beside the sleigh.
His first thought was that his worst fears were realized. Certainly thesight was one that might have filled a stouter heart with chill alarm.The horse had fallen into a deep drift, which covered him to theshoulders, and rendered him utterly helpless, entangled as he was withthe harness and the over-turned jumper. He had evidently, like Frank,been struggling violently to free himself, but finding it useless, hadfor a time ceased his efforts, and stood wild-eyed and panting, thepicture of animal terror. On seeing Frank he made another frantic plungeor two, looking at the boy with an expression of agonized appeal, asthough he would say,--
"Oh, help me out of this dreadful place!"
And glad would Frank have been to respond to the best of his ability. Butthe poor horse could not be considered first. Half under the sleigh, halfburied in the snow, lay the big foreman, to all appearance dead, theblood flowing freely from an ugly gash in his forehead, where the fur caphad failed to protect him entirely from the horse's hoof.
Frank sprang to his side, and with a tremendous effort turned him overupon his back, and getting out his handkerchief, wiped the blood awayfrom his face. As he did so, the first awful thought of death gave way toa feeling of hope. White and still as Johnston lay, his face was warm,and he was surely breathing a little. Seizing a handful of snow, Frankpressed it to the foreman's forehead, and cried to him as though he wereasleep,--
"Mr. Johnston, Mr. Johnston! What's the matter with you? Tell me, won'tyou?"
For some minutes there was no sign of response. Then the injured manstirred, gave a deep sigh followed by a groan, opened his eyes with alook of dazed bewilderment, and put his hand up to his head, which wasevidently giving him intense pain.
"Oh, Mr. Johnston, I'm so glad! I was afraid you were dead!" exclaimedFrank. "Can't I help you to get up?"
Turning upon his shoulder, the foreman made an effort to raise himself,but at once sank back with a groan.
"I'm sore hurt, my lad," he said; "I can't stir. You'll have to gethelp."
And so great was his suffering that he well nigh lost consciousnessagain.
Frank tried his best to lift him away from the sleigh, but found the taskaltogether beyond his young strength in that deep snow, and had to giveit up as hopeless. Certainly he was in a most trying situation for a mereboy--fully five miles from the shanty, with an almost untravelled roadbetween that must be traversed by him alone, while the injured man wouldhave to lie helpless in the snow until his return. Little wonder if hefelt in sore perplexity as to what should be done, and how he should actunder the circumstances.
The Young Woodsman; Or, Life in the Forests of Canada Page 7
