The Ice Queen

by Ernest Ingersoll

  There seemed very small chance of success, in the midst of this darkness and storm, either way, but they felt sure that some accident had happened to the Captain, and they were eager to help him. After talking it over, they decided upon the right-hand or southern shore of the island, because that was to leeward, and better sheltered, and marched on as rapidly as they could. They had no strength to talk, but hand-in-hand pushed ahead, stopping now and then to shout, but never getting an answer.

  "There's one good thing about this storm," Tug remarked, after a while, as they halted to rest in a sort of cleft in the rock. "Those confounded dogs will be likely to stay indoors and not bother us."

  "I wonder where they keep themselves at night?"

  "If our island is like the rest, this limestone rock is full of caves. There's no telling, for instance, how deep this here opening we're sitting in goes back; and in some of the Puddin' Bay [Put-in-Bay] islands big caves have been explored that people go away into to see the stalactites. There are plenty of rocky holes, therefore, where they could find good shelter and beds of leaves that the wind had blown in. But we must get out of this, Youngster."

  * * *

  Chapter XXVII.

  ANOTHER ENCOUNTER WITH THE WILD DOGS.

  They trudged slowly on again until they thought they must be close to the farther end of the island, when they found progress interrupted by a low headland of rocks partly covered by the brush of a fallen tree-top. In trying to get past it they became entangled in the branches, and Tug said he "'lowed they'd have to light the lantern."

  With great care, therefore—for matches were precious—this was done, and its rays at once showed them that they were not the first persons who had been there that night. Branches were freshly broken, and the snow was trampled. They set up a combined shout (and bark) as soon as this was perceived, but nothing came back except the dull echo of their voices and the rustle of the sleet and snow among the leafless and dripping branches.

  "Well," said Tug, when he realized this, "our cue is to follow the tracks anyhow."

  Crushing through the branches, they saw that the tracks, which had approached from the other side of the rocks and brush, led them to the trunk of the tree, and that then Aleck (if, indeed, it were he who had made them) had walked along the trunk towards its roots. Of course they followed, Tug going ahead with the lantern; but when they arrived at the great base of upturned roots they could not see where Aleck had leaped off, or that he had leaped off at all. On one side the snow lay smooth and untouched; on the other, close under and around the mass of dead roots, was a little thicket of low bushes and a shoulder of black rock. Beyond these the snow had not been disturbed.

  This was very mysterious, and chilled their hearts with a nameless fear. They came close together on the high log, and talked almost in whispers. Jim held Tug's arm with both hands, and trembled so that his teeth chattered, and the tears rolled down his cheeks; while Tug himself, old and brave and strong as he was, was so scared (as he often said afterwards) that every creak and moan of the laboring, ice-coated trees seemed a frightful voice, and all the flitting lights and shadows cast by their lantern among the dark trunks and swaying hemlock branches took on shapes that it chilled his blood to look at. Even Rex seemed to catch the panic, and cowered at their feet with bristling hair.

  There had been only a moment of this helpless, causeless terror—and no doubt they would quickly have thrown it off—when they were roused by a real danger, which they knew in an instant. All ghosts and goblins, forms and voices, vanished at once, for they heard the wolfish howl of the dreaded dogs.

  "Only mastiffs or hounds," you may exclaim, "such as we pass on the street every day, and babies play with, rolling over and on them unharmed!"

  Very true; but these dogs had become savage again by their wild life; and no traveller in his sledge on the steppes of Siberia, or postman belated in the Black Forest at New Year, was ever in more danger from wolves than were these two lads from the dogs, if the animals chose to attack them. Perhaps they had not yet been quite long enough in the wilderness to have overcome their once well-learned fear of men, and so would hesitate to attack, in open fight, the beings that heretofore had been their masters; but this was all the hope the boys could have.

  "The dogs!" cried Jim, in a hoarse whisper.

  "Yes," said Tug, through his teeth. "Here! give me the lantern, quick: we must have a fire."

  The tangle of dead roots was quite dry, and kindled easily when the lantern-candle was held against it, so that it was scarcely a minute before a bright blaze was crackling.

  That moment had been enough, however, for the near approach of the dogs, as they knew by the increasing loudness of their cries, to which Rex bravely responded; and it was not long before they heard them crashing through the underbrush, and saw their eyes—fiery pairs of dots which reflected the firelight in flashes of green or red—though the forms of the savage animals were hidden in the gloom.

  Tug had hastily lopped off a young sapling and trimmed it into a long, rough club, which he now held in the fire, in hope that the green wood would get hardened, or perhaps even ablaze. Jimmy clutched the hatchet tightly in his right hand, and his open jackknife in his left, while Rex bristled and barked. All the goblin fright had vanished, and the boys no longer trembled because sleet and wind made uncanny noises, or the firelight seemed to summon eldritch forms from the aisles of darkness between the hemlocks.

  There seemed to be three of the fierce brutes, and they stopped as they came in sight of the fire and the group ready to receive them; but after a short pause the largest dog, with a tremendous bark, rushed forward, the others following savagely at his heels. Rex was crouching and ready, so that before either of the boys could seize his collar he had sprung to meet his foes, and had gone down under their combined weight.

  It was one of the strangest dog-fights known to history, and had the strangest end. In his broad collar, his long hair, and his greater health the Newfoundland had the advantage; but he was one and his foes were three, and they had no chivalrous ideas of fairness or mercy in a fight, but were savages, bent not only upon the death of their victim, but upon tearing him in pieces and devouring him afterwards.

  No sooner did Tug see Rex leap, and perceive the charge upon him, than he shouted "Give it to 'em!" and sprang into the snow, punching the nearest brute, bayonet fashion, with the hot tip of his sapling spear, while Jim got in at least one good blow with his hatchet. It sank almost to the haft in the neck of one of the youngest dogs, and he dropped dead with scarcely a shudder.

  Meeting this unexpected resistance, so determined, fiery (Tug's sapling bore a little streamer of flame, like the banner on the head of a Cossack's lance), and so fatal to one of their number, the two remaining dogs were abashed, and let go of Rex, intending to fight with their human assailants. But they had no time to make the change. Seeing that he must follow up his advantage, Tug charged again, and fairly put the startled brutes to flight by the combined force of his yells and his blazing bayonet, backed by Jim and his terrible hatchet.

  When the boys saw that the dogs had really run away, they turned to look after their own brave ally, but he was nowhere to be seen, though the blazing stump lit up the whole scene of the battle.

  "Why, where's Rex?" they asked one another, and called and whistled. Could he have fled into the forest? Impossible. Hark! was not that a faint whine?—and another?

  "Do you think he can be dying, and has hid himself in the brush?" asked Jim. "They say wounded animals do do that."

  "Looks like it," Tug admitted. "Here, Rex!"

  A more distinct yelp, as though the dog was in pain, came to their ears, and they began to search in all the shadowy places.

  "Poke up the fire a bit, Jimmy—let's have a little more light."

  Jim hastened to follow out this suggestion, and in doing so entered the little thicket which I have mentioned between the shoulder of rock and the log. Suddenly he pitched almost headlong into a
dark hollow. He drew back hastily, but as he did so, parting the bushes, he heard Rex's yelping come plainly up, as though from beneath the sod.

  "Hello! Rex has fallen down a hole," he exclaimed. "Come here, Tug!"

  Sure enough, there was the mouth of a pit, how deep they could not tell, though they could see the Newfoundland's eyes shining at what did not seem so very great a distance.

  "Why, Rex, old fellow, are you hurt?" they called out; and the dog answered by a short bark, which ended in a pitiful whine of pain.

  "Get the lantern, Jim; we must try to see what kind of a place this is; and look out where you step. This is a cave country, as I told you awhile ago. You may fall through 'most anywhere in this darkness."

  The lantern was brought, and tied on the end of a pole, with a handkerchief. Rex began to utter a series of peculiarly short, sharp barks when he saw the light descending, and they knew he was dancing about by the way his eyes moved.

  When about twelve feet of the pole had been lowered the lantern rested, and they knew the bottom had been reached. By its faint glow Rex could be seen standing on his legs, apparently not much hurt.

  "There's something else down there that Rex seems to bother himself about a good deal," reported Jim, who was lying down and peering over the edge. "Move the lantern this way a little. It looks—Oh, Tug, it's a man!—it's Aleck, and he's dead!"

  * * *

  Chapter XXVIII.

  THE ACCIDENT EXPLAINED.

  How to get down into the pit was now the great question. Guided by the light of the fire, steadily eating its way into the butt of the log in spite of the storm, they cut down a small tree and lopped off its branches in such a way as to make a rude ladder. Though they were in so great a hurry, this was slow work with their dull hatchet. Lowering it carefully into the pit until its end rested firmly, Jim held the top, while Tug went down, took the lantern, and approached the motionless form, whose face Rex was licking. The instant the light fell upon the face he saw that it was the Captain's.

  "It is Aleck!" he called out. "Come down."

  "Is he dead?" asked Jim, as he scrambled down the break-neck ladder.

  "No," said Tug, who was kneeling by the lad's side. "His face is warm, and I can feel his heart beat. He's only stunned. Where's that brandy Katy sent?"

  "It's in my overcoat pocket up on the ground—I'll get it." And Jim scrambled up the hemlock trunk, fearless of a tumble.

  "Now pour a few drops between his lips," said Tug, when the boy had got back, at the same time lifting Aleck's head upon his knee. "Oh, if only we had some water! Get out!"

  This last was addressed to Rex, who was in the way; but it also answered the boy's prayer, for, in starting back, the dog stepped into a pool of water that lay upon the bottom of the cave. So crystal clear and quiet was this little pool in the lone and silent chamber of rock, that even when they knew it was there, and were dipping the water up with their hats, they could not tell by lantern-light where its edge was, or how near were their hands to the surface before they felt its icy chill against their knuckles.

  The dashing of this cold, pure water upon his face, and a few drops of the spirits, served to awaken Aleck very speedily, though at first his ideas were much confused.

  "Where am I?" was his first utterance, as it has been that of thousands of others in like case; and several minutes passed before he was able to sit up and talk to them.

  "I suppose—you fellows—" he began to say, presently, in a stammering sort of way, "would like—to know—what I'm doing—down here."

  "Well, Captain," said Tug, who would have liked to dance a jig, but was afraid to, and could only hug the dog to express his joy—"well, Captain, we don't want to be impertinent, Jim and me, nor what you might call inquisitive, in regard to what ain't none o' our business; and we hope we're not intrudin' on you here; but if you are willing to explain one or two matters, we'd be glad to listen."

  "'IS HE DEAD?' ASKED JIM."

  "Why, I—got so tired—tramping round in the storm—that when I got to that brush-heap—and rocks—out there, I thought—I thought—I'd go up in the woods—and camp. So I came up along that big log, and stepped off—and that's the last I remember. But I know I've a frightful headache, and I wish I was home."

  Home! Where? In Monore? That roof was sheltering other heads. In Cleveland? That seemed farther away than ever. The fisherman's cottage? Ah, Katy would make that a home to the wounded lad, if only they could get him there!

  "Do you think you could walk?" Tug asked, anxiously.

  "Yes, if I was out of this, and could get warm."

  "Well, there is a fire up there, and this ladder is not long. Drink the rest of this brandy: I know you hate it, but it's only a trifle, and it will give you strength for your climb; and then you can rest a bit, while we get the dog out. Here, Rex!"

  To do this, Tug went half-way up the ladder, and Jim handed up their shaggy companion, after which Tug lifted him to where he could scramble out.

  Then Aleck, by slow stages and with much help, reached the top, and was wrapped in overcoats, while he sat by the fire until his chilliness was gone, and he had eaten some of the food Katy had sent. This done, he felt able to begin his journey homeward. Meanwhile, Tug went into the pit to bring out Aleck's gun and the lantern. Standing on the brink of the black water, he tossed a pebble, but failed to strike the opposite wall. Then he hurled another with all his strength, and, after a time, heard it splash in the water. How far away lay the other end of the cave, or to what depths underneath this cavern-lake the cave-floor descended, he never knew. He realized how narrow had been the escape of all, and the strange coincidence by which they had been led to this spot, and had discovered the hidden mouth of the pit; and he thanked God, who had preserved their lives.

  The dull gray of the dawn was lighting up the driving rain, the slushy snow, and the drenched and dripping trees, when the weary boys, supporting their almost worn-out leader, crept down the rough hill, and approached the little cottage. Katy had seen them coming, and stood waiting in the door, looking herself as though she had not slept much that sad night.

  "Oh, Aleck!" was all she could say, as she threw her arms around her brother's neck, "must you always be the one to get hurt for us?"

  "I hope not, sis," he said, with a smile, and sank, exhausted, into a bunk.

  Then with quiet swiftness the girl heated water, washed the wounds in Aleck's head, and hastened to boil the corn-meal mush and the coffee, which formed the best breakfast she was able to give. Meanwhile she told how she had passed the night, making her story so bright, and bustling about so cheerily, that she did more to restore the tired boys than, in her absence, all their pulling off of soaked boots and stretching upon soft mattresses of springy boughs would have done.

  "After waiting a long, long time—it must have been until after midnight," Katy began the story of her night, "I had dropped asleep in my chair before the fire, when I was waked up by something scratching at the door. I knew in a minute it was those dreadful dogs, and I was awfully scared."

  "After we beat them off they must have come directly here," Tug remarked. "Were there more than two?"

  "No, but two were quite enough," Katy replied; and then continued her narrative:

  "I should have liked to have got under the bed, only there wasn't any bed, and so I—what do you suppose?—I got the butcher-knife and a big stick, and climbed up into the top berth. They growled and grumbled around the door, and scratched and butted at it, and every little while one or both of them would stand upon their hind-legs and look in at the window with their horrible green eyes. Ugh! I don't want to go through another such a night!"

  "Nor I!" exclaimed all three of her listeners, in chorus, each thinking of his own separate experience.

  "Passed unanimously!" cried Katy. "Now come to breakfast."

  * * *

  Chapter XXIX.

  DECIDING UPON A NEW MOVE.

  The warm rain continued all that day and the next
night, while the boys rested, except that Tug went to his set-lines and brought back a fine pike of about six pounds' weight, which gave them a good dinner. By the next morning the snow had nearly all melted away, and the sun shone warm, while great glistening pools of water lay spread out upon the ice. It was evident that the long-delayed January thaw had come at last.

  The disappearance of the snow brought several things to light that they had not seen before. Bits of iron and general rubbish appeared about the door. A heap of snow which they had thought concealed a bowlder, exposed by its melting an old flat-bottomed skiff, turned upside down, and under it lay a torn sail, with its mast. Behind the house Tug found several articles he thought "might come handy;" among the rest a short piece of lead pipe, which he seized upon at once. Then, while Aleck and Jimmy walked out to look at the traps, Tug built a hot fire, and went to work at making bullets of the lead. He melted his old pipe in a piece of tin, which he had hammered into a spoon, and dropped the molten metal into cold water. The bullets, or shot, were not all of the same size, and were more pear-shaped than round; but by whittling and hammering they did very well, and in two hours he had a handful.

  "Now," said he, with a vengeful tone in his voice, "just let me get a shot at those or'nary curs!"

  Later, Aleck came back, reporting no birds, but bringing a small pickerel.

  "But I saw another flock of cross-bills, and I'm going to take my 'pitchfork' and go after them," Jimmy added, eagerly; and at once went out, while Katy put on her hat and started for a short walk.