CHAPTER II
"Don't force the pace at first, boys," Fred warned his companions."Remember, we've a long way to go."
As the expert skater, he had taken the leading end of the drag-rope.His advice was hard to follow. The ice was in perfect condition; thetoboggan ran almost without friction on its steel shoes, and in thatsparkling air it seemed that it would be easy to skate a hundred mileswithout ever once resting.
For a little way the river was bordered with stumpy clearings; then thedark hemlock and jack-pine woods closed down on the shores. Theskaters had reached the frontier; it might well be that there were nota dozen cultivated fields between them and the North Pole.
Here the river was about a hundred feet wide, the long ice road thatFred had imagined. Comparatively little snow had yet fallen, and thatlittle seemed to have come with high winds, which had swept the iceclear. More, however, might be looked for any day.
But for that day they were safe. They rushed ahead, forcing the pace alittle, after all, in a swinging single file, with the toboggan glidingbehind. In great curves the river wound through the woods and frozenswamps, and only twice that day had they to go ashore to get roundroaring, unfrozen rapids. Each of those obstructions cost the boyshalf an hour of labor before they could get the toboggan through thedense underbrush that choked the portage. But they had counted on suchdelays.
Not a breath of wind stirred, and the forest was profoundly still.Full of wild life though it undoubtedly was, not a sign of it wasvisible, except now and then a chain of delicate tracks along the shore.
Evening comes early in that latitude and season. At sunset Macgregorestimated that they had covered thirty miles.
"Time to camp, boys!" he shouted from the rear. "Look out for a goodplace--shelter and lots of dry wood."
Two or three miles farther on they found it--a spot where several largespruce trees had fallen together, and lay dry and dead near the shore.They drew up the toboggan and exchanged their skating-boots formoccasins. Maurice began to cut up wood with a small axe; the otherstrampled down the snow in a circle.
Dusk was already falling when the fire blazed up, making all at once aspot of almost home-like cheerfulness. Fred chopped a hole in the icein order to fill the kettle, and while it was boiling, they cut down anumber of small saplings, and placed them in lean-to fashion against aridgepole. The balsam twigs that they trimmed off they threw inside,until the snow was covered with a great heap of fragrant boughs. On itthey spread the sleeping-bags to face the fire.
They supped that night on fried bacon, dried eggs, oatmeal cakes, andtea--real _voyageur's_ tea, hot and strong, flavored with brown sugarand wood smoke, and drunk out of tin cups.
Leaning back on the balsam couch, they made merry over their meal,while the stars came out white and clear over the dark woods. Therewas every prospect now of their reaching the trappers' cabin in twodays more, at most. There were only the two serious dangers--asnowstorm might spoil the ice, and Macgregor might not be able to hitupon the right place.
The boys were tired enough to be drowsy as soon as they had finishedsupper. Little by little their conversation flagged; the chance offinding diamonds ceased to interest them, and presently they built upthe fire and crawled into their sleeping-bags. It was a cold night,and except for the occasional cry of a hunting owl or lynx, thewilderness was silent as death.
The boys were up early the next morning; smoke was rising from theirfire before the sun was well off the horizon. The weather seemedslightly warmer, and a wind was rising from the west, but it was notstrong enough to impede them.
After breakfast, they repacked the kit on the toboggan. The spot hadbeen home for a night; now nothing was left except a pile of crushedtwigs and a few black brands on the trampled snow.
The travelers were fresh again; now they settled down to a long, steadystroke that carried them on rapidly. Three times they had to land topass round open rapids or dangerous ice, but about eleven o'clockMacgregor saw what he had been looking for. It was a spot whereseveral trees had been cut down on the shore. A rather faint trailshowed through the cedar thickets. It was the beginning of the mainportage that ran three miles northwest, straight across country to theAbitibi River. They had been mortally afraid of overrunning the spot.
They boiled the noon kettle of tea to fortify themselves for the longcrossing. Then they unshipped the runners from the toboggan, put ontheir moccasins and snowshoes, and started ashore across a range oflow, densely wooded hills.
The trail was blazed at long intervals, but not cleared, and it washard, exasperating work to get the toboggan through the snowy tangle.After two hours they came out on the crest of a hill overlooking agreat river that ran like a gleaming steel-blue ribbon far into thenorth.
"The Abitibi!" cried Macgregor.
They had come a good seventy miles from Waverley. At that rate, theymight expect to reach their destination the next day; and, greatlyencouraged, they coasted on the toboggan down to the ice, and set outagain on skates.
During the tramp the sky had grown hazy, and the northwest wind wasblowing stronger. For some time it was not troublesome, for it camefrom the left, but it continued to freshen, and the clouds darkenedominously.
Late in the afternoon the travelers came suddenly upon the second ofthe known landmarks. From the west a smaller river, nameless, as faras they knew, poured past a bluff of black granite into the Abitibi,making a fifty-yard stretch of open water that tumbled and foamed witha hoarse uproar among ice-bound boulders. Here they had to changetheir course, for according to Macgregor's calculation, it was aboutfifty miles up this river that the cabin stood.
Again they went ashore, and after struggling through two hundred yardsof dense thickets reached the little nameless river from the west.
The change in their course brought them squarely into the eye of thewind, and they felt the difference instantly. The breeze had risen tohalf a gale; the whole sky had clouded. It was only an hour fromsunset, but no one mentioned camping; they were resolved to go on whilethe light lasted. And suddenly Fred, struggling on with bent headagainst the wind, saw that the front of his blue sweater was growingpowdered with white grains.
"We're caught, boys!" he exclaimed; and they stopped to look at themenacing sky.
Snow was drifting down in fine powder, and glancing over the ice pasttheir feet. Straight down from the great Hudson Bay barrens the stormwas coming, and the roar of the forest, now that they stopped tolisten, was like that of the tempestuous sea.
"'Snow meal, snow a great deal,'" Macgregor quoted, with forcedcheerfulness.
"Let's hope not!" exclaimed Maurice.
And Fred added: "Anyhow, let's get on while we can."
On they went, skating fast. As yet the snow was no hindrance, for itspun off the smooth ice as fast as it fell. It was the wind thattroubled them, for it roared down the river channel with dishearteningforce.
It was especially discouraging to be checked thus on the last lap, butnone of them thought of giving up. They settled doggedly to the task,although it took all their strength and wind to keep going. But allthree were in pretty good training, and they stuck to it for more thanan hour. The forest was growing dark, and the snow was coming faster.Then Maurice, rather dubiously, suggested a halt.
"Nonsense! We're good for another ten miles, at least!" cried Peter,who seemed tireless.
They shot ahead again. Evening settled early, with the snow fallingthick. The ice was white now; skates and toboggan left black streaks,immediately obliterated by fresh flakes. Just before complete darknessfell, the boys made a short halt, built a fire, and boiled tea. Nomore was said of camping. They had tacitly resolved to struggle on aslong as they could keep going, for they knew that they would have nochance to use their skates after that night.
It grew dark, but never pitch dark, for the reflection from the snowgave light enough for them to see the road. Even yet the snow lay solight that the blades cut it without an ef
fort.
The wind, however, was hard to fight against. In spite of his amateurchampionship, Fred was the first to give out. For some time he hadfelt himself flagging, dropping behind, and then recovering; but all atonce his legs gave way, and he collapsed in a heap on the ice, halfunconscious from fatigue.
Macgregor and Stark bent over him.
"Got to put him on the toboggan," declared the Scotchman.
Maurice felt that it was madness for two of them to try to haul thegreater load, but without protest he helped to roll the dazed youngsterin the blankets, and to strap him on the sledge. The next stage alwaysseemed to him a sort of waking nightmare; he never quite knew how longit lasted. The wind bore against him like a wall; the drag of thetoboggan seemed intolerable. Half dead with exhaustion and fatigue, hefixed his eyes on Macgregor's broad back, and went on with short,forced strokes, with the feeling that each marked the extreme limit ofhis strength.
Suddenly his leader stopped. A great black space seemed to have openedin the white road ahead.
"Another portage!" Macgregor shouted in Maurice's ear.
A long, unfrozen rapid was thundering in the gloom. With maddeningdifficulty, Maurice and Macgregor hacked a road through willow thicketsand got the toboggan past.
Again they were on the ice, with the rapid behind them. It seemed toMaurice that the horror of that exertion would never end; then suddenlythe night seemed to turn pitch black, and he felt himself shaken by theshoulder.
"Get on the toboggan, Maurice! Come, wake up!" Macgregor was saying."Wake up!"
Dimly he realized that he was sitting on the ice--that they hadstopped--that Fred was up again. Too stupefied to question anything,he rolled into the blanket out of which Fred had crawled, and instantlywent sound asleep.
It seemed only a moment until he was roused again. Drunk with sleep,he clutched the towrope blindly, while Fred, who was completely donethis time, again took his place on the sledge. Only Macgregor seemedproof against fatigue. Bent against the gale, he skated vigorously atthe forward end of the line, and his strong voice shouted backencouragements that Maurice hardly heard.
The snow was now growing so deep on the ice that the skates ploughedthrough it with difficulty. Still the boys labored on, minute afterminute, mile after mile. Maurice felt numb with fatigue and halfasleep as he skated blindly, and suddenly he ran sharply intoMacgregor, who had stopped short. There was another break justahead--a long cascade this time, where snowy pocks showed like whiteblurs on the black water.
"Going to portage?" mumbled Maurice.
"No use trying to go any farther," replied the medical student, and hisvoice was hoarse. "Fred's played out. Snow's getting too deep,anyway. Better camp here."
Maurice would have been glad to drop where he stood. But they draggedthe toboggan ashore somehow, caring little where they landed it. Peterrolled Fred off into the snow. The boy groaned, but did not waken, andthey began to unpack the supplies with stiffened hands.
"Got to get something hot into us quick," said Peter thickly. "Help memake a fire."
Probably they were all nearer death than they realized. Maurice wantedonly to sleep. However, in a sort of daze, he broke off branches,peeled bark, and they had a fire blazing up in the falling snowflakes.The wind whirled and scattered it, but they piled on larger sticks, andMacgregor filled the kettle from the river. When the water was hot hepoured in a whole tin of condensed milk, added a cake of chocolate, ahandful of sugar and another of oatmeal, too stiffened to measure outanything.
Maurice had collapsed into a dead sleep in the snow. Peter shook himawake, and between them they managed to arouse Fred with greatdifficulty. Still half asleep they swallowed the rich, steaming messfrom the kettle. It set their blood moving again, but they were toothoroughly worn out to think of building a camp. They crept into theirsleeping-bags, buttoned the naps down over their heads and went tosleep regardless of consequences.
Fred awoke to find himself almost steaming hot, and in utter darknessand silence. All his muscles ached, and he could not imagine where hewas. A weight held him down when he tried to move, but he turned overat last and sat up with an effort. A glare of white light made himblink. He had been buried under more than two feet of snow.
It was broad daylight. All the world was white, and a raging snowstormwas driving through the forest. The tree-tops creaked and roared, andthe powdery snow whirled like smoke. Fred felt utterly bewildered.There was no sign of the camp-fire, nor of the toboggan, nor of any ofhis companions, nothing but a few mounds on the drifted white surface.
Finally he crawled out of his sleeping-outfit and dug into one of thesemounds. Two feet down he came upon the surface of a sleeping-bag, andpunched it vigorously. It stirred; the flap opened, and Macgregorthrust his face out, blinking, red and dazed.
"Time to get up!" Fred shouted.
Mac crawled out and shook off the snow, looking disconcerted.
"Snowed in, with a vengeance!" he remarked. "Where's the camp--andwhere's Maurice?"
After prodding about they located the third member of their party atlast, and dug him out. As for the camp, there was none, and they couldonly guess at where the toboggan with their stores might be buried.
"This ends our skating," said Maurice. "It'll have to be snowshoesafter this. Good thing we got so far last night."
"No thanks to me!" Fred remarked. "I was the expert skater; I believeI said I'd set the pace, and I was the first to cave in. I hope I dobetter with the snowshoes."
"Neither snowshoes nor skates to-day," said Peter. "We can't traveltill this storm blows over. Nothing for it but to build a camp and sittight."
After groping about for some time they found the toboggan, unstrappedthe snowshoes, and used them as shovels to clear away a circular place.In doing so they came upon the black brands of last night's fire, withthe camp kettle upon them where they had left it. Fred ploughedthrough the snow and collected wood for a fresh fire, while Peter andMaurice set up stakes and poles and built a roof of hemlock branches toafford shelter from the storm. It was only a rude shed with one sideopen to face the fire, but it kept off the snow and wind and provedfairly comfortable. Fred had coffee made by this time, and it did nottake long to fry a pan of bacon. They seated themselves on a heap ofboughs at the edge of the shelter and ate and drank. They all werestiff and sore, but the hot food and coffee made a decided improvement.
"What surprises me," remarked Maurice, "is that we didn't freeze lastnight, sleeping under the snow. But I never felt warmer in bed."
"It was the snow that did it. Snow makes a splendid nonconductor ofheat," replied Macgregor. "Better than blankets. I remember hearingof a man who was caught by a blizzard crossing a big barren up northwith a train of dogs. The dogs wouldn't face the storm; he lost hisdirections; and finally he turned the sledge over and got under it withthe dogs around him, and let it snow. He stayed there a day and ahalf, asleep most of the time, and wouldn't have known when the stormwas over, only that a pack of timber wolves smelt him and tried to dighim out. They ran when they found out what was there, but he baggedtwo of them with his rifle."
"I don't believe even timber wolves would have wakened me this morning.I never was so stiff and used up in my life," Maurice commented on thistale of adventure.
"Yes, we need the rest," said Mac. "We overdid it yesterday, and wecouldn't have gone far to-day in any case."
"But meanwhile that man at the cabin may be dying," exclaimed Fred.
"If he's dead it can't be helped," responded the Scotchman. "We'redoing all that's humanly possible. But if he's alive, don't forgetthat he can't get away while this storm lasts, any more than we can."
"Well, it looks as if the storm would last all day," said Fred, gazingupwards.
The blizzard did last all that day, reaching its height toward themiddle of the afternoon, but it was not extremely cold, and the boyswere fairly comfortable. They lounged on the blankets in the shelterof the camp,
and recuperated from their fatigue, discussing theirchances of still reaching the cabin in time to do any good. None ofthem could guess accurately how far they had come in that terriblenight, but at the worst they could not think the cabin more than fortymiles farther. This distance would have to be traveled on snowshoes,however, not skates, and none of the boys were very expert snowshoers.It would be certainly more than one day's tramp.
Toward night the wind lessened, though it was still snowing fast. Theboys piled on logs enough to keep the fire smouldering all night inspite of the snowflakes, and went to sleep under cover of the hemlockroof. Maurice awoke toward the middle of the night, and noticeddrowsily that it had stopped snowing, and that a star or two wasvisible overhead.
Next morning dawned sparkling clear and very cold, with not a breath ofwind. Everything was deep and fluffy with the fresh snow, and when thesun came up the glare was almost blinding. It would be good weatherfor snowshoe travel, and the boys all felt fit again for another hardday.
After breakfast, therefore, they packed the supplies upon the toboggan,unscrewed the steel runners, and put on the new snowshoes.
"We'd better stick to the river," Peter remarked. "It may make it alittle farther, but it gives us a clear road, and if we follow theriver we can't miss the cabin."
"No danger of going through air-holes in the ice?" queried Fred.
"Not much. An air-hole isn't generally big enough to let a snowshoe gothrough. We'll pull you out if you do. Come along."
Off they went again. But they had not gone far before discovering thattravel was going to be less easy than they had thought. The snow waslight and the snowshoes sank deep. They moved in a cloud of puffingwhite powder, and the heavy toboggan went down so that it was difficultto draw it. Without the smooth, level road of the river they couldhardly have progressed at all.
They braced themselves to the work and plodded on, taking turns atgoing first to break the road. The sun shone down in a white dazzle.There was no heat in it, but the glare was so strong that they had topull their caps low over their eyes for fear of snow-blindness--themost deadly enemy of the winter traveler in the North. During theforenoon they thought they made hardly more than ten miles, and at noonthey halted, made a fire and boiled tea.
The hot drink and an hour's rest made them ready for the road again.Twice that afternoon they had to make a long detour through the woodsto avoid unfrozen rapids, and once the brush was so dense that they hadto cut a way for the toboggan with the axe. Once, too, the icesuddenly cracked under Fred's foot, and he flung himself forward justin time to avoid the black water gushing up through the snowed-overair-hole.
The life of the wilderness was beginning to emerge after the storm.Along the shores they saw the tracks of mink. Once they encountered aplunging trail across the river where several timber wolves must havecrossed the night before, and late in the afternoon Maurice shot acouple of spruce grouse in a thicket. He flung them on the toboggan,and they arrived at camp that night frozen into solid lumps.
It was plainly impossible to reach the cabin that day. Peter, who waskeenly on the lookout, failed to recognize any of the landmarks.
"We'd better camp early, boys," he said. "We can't make it to-day, andthere's no use in getting snowshoe cramp and being tied up for a week."
They kept on, however, till the sun was almost down. A faint butpiercing northwest breeze had arisen, and they halted in the lee of adense cedar thicket close to the river. A huge log had fallen down theshore, and this would make an excellent backing for the fire during thenight.
Drawing up the toboggan, the boys took off their snowshoes and began toshovel out a circular pit for the camp. The snow had drifted deep inthat spot. Before they came to the bottom the snow was heaped so highthat the pit was shoulder-deep. It was all the better for shelter, andthey cut cedar poles and roofed one side of it, producing a most cozyand sheltered nook.
Fred continued to pull cedar twigs for bedding, while Peter and Mauriceunpacked the toboggan and lighted the fire against the big log. Nowthat it was laid bare this log proved to be indeed a monster. It musthave been nearly three feet in diameter, and was probably hollow, butwould keep the fire smouldering indefinitely. Fred plucked the frozengrouse with some difficulty, cut them up and put them into the kettleto thaw out and stew.
This consumed some time, and it was rather late when supper was ready.A bitterly cold night was setting in. The icy breeze whined throughthe trees, but the sheltered pit of the camp was a warm and cozy place,casting its firelight high into the branches overhead.
Snowshoe cramp had attacked none of the boys, but the unaccustomedmuscles were growing stiff and sore. By Macgregor's advice they alltook off moccasins and stockings and massaged their calves and anklesthoroughly, afterwards roasting them well before the fire. One side ofthe big log was a glowing red ember now, and they piled fresh woodbeside it, laid the rifles ready, and crept into their sleeping-bagsunder the shelter.
Fred did not know how long he had slept when he was awakened by a sortof nervous shock. He raised his head and glanced about. All was stillin the camp. His companions lay motionless in their bags. The firehad burned low, and the air of the zero night cut his face like aknife. He could not imagine what had awakened him, but he felt that heought to get up and replenish the fire and he was trying to make up hismind to crawl out of his warm nest when he was startled by a sort ofdull, jarring rumble.
It seemed to come from the fire itself. Fred uttered a scared cry thatwoke both the other boys instantly.
"What's the matter? What is it?" they both exclaimed.
Before Fred could answer, there was a sort of upheaval. The fire wasdashed aside. Smoke and ashes flew in every direction, and they had acloudy glimpse of something charging out through the smoke--somethinghuge and black and lightning quick.
"Jump! Run!" yelled Peter, scrambling to get out of his sleeping-bag.
At the shout and scramble the animal wheeled like a flash and plungedat the side of the pit, trying to reach the top with a single leap. Itfell short, and came down in a cloud of snow.
Fred had got clear from the encumbering bag by this time, andfloundered out of the pit without knowing exactly how he did it. Hefound Maurice close behind him. Peter missed his footing and tumbledback with a horrified yell, and Maurice seized him by the leg as hewent down and dragged him back bodily.
Before they recovered from their panic they bolted several yards away,plunging knee-deep in the drifts, and then Peter stopped.
"Hold on!" he exclaimed. "It isn't after us!"
"But what was it?" stammered Maurice, out of breath.
Looking back, they could see nothing but the faint glow from thescattered brands. But they could not overlook the whole interior ofthe camp, where the intruder must be now lying quiet.
Trying to collect himself, Fred told how he had been awakened.
"It came straight out of the fire!" he declared.
"Out of the log, I guess," said Peter. "Here, I know what it must be.It's simply a bear!"
"A bear!" ejaculated Fred.
"Yes, a bear, that must have had his winter den in that big log. Hewas hibernating there, and our fire burned into his den and roused himout. That's all."
"Quite enough, I should think," said Maurice. "Bears are ugly-temperedwhen they're disturbed from their winter dens, I've heard. He's gotpossession of our camp, now. What'll we do?"
"We'll freeze if we don't do something pretty quick," Fred added.
In fact the boys were standing in stockinged feet in the snow, and thenight was bitterly cold. All looked quiet in what they could see ofthe camp.
"I don't see why one of us hadn't the wit to grab a gun!" said Peterbitterly.
He turned and began to wade back cautiously toward the camp. The otherboys followed him, till they were close enough to look into the pit.No animal was in sight.
"Perhaps he's bolted out the other side," muttered Peter. "Who's goingto
go down there and find out?"
Nobody volunteered. If the bear was still in the camp he must be underthe roofed-over shelter, and, in fact, as they stood shivering andlistening they heard a sound of stirring about under the cedar poles ofthe roof.
"He's there!" exclaimed Fred.
"And eating up our stores, as like as not!" cried Maurice.
This made the case considerably more serious.
"We must get him out of that!" Macgregor exclaimed.
How to do it was the difficulty, and, still more, how to do it withsafety. Both the rifles were still lying loaded under the shelter,probably under the very feet of the bear.
"Well, we've got to take a chance!" declared Macgregor at last. "Talkabout cold feet! We'll certainly have them frozen if we stand heremuch longer. Scatter out, boys, all around the camp. Then we'llsnowball the brute out. Likely he's too scared to want to fight.Anyhow, if he jumps out on one side, the man on the opposite side mustjump into the camp and grab a rifle."
It looked risky, to provoke a charge from the animal in that deep snow,where they could hardly move, but they waded around the camp till theystood at equal distances apart, surrounding the hollowed space.
"Now let him have it!" cried Peter.
Immediately they began to throw snowballs into the camp, aiming at thatdark hole under the cedar roof where the animal was hidden. But thesnow was too dry to pack into lumps, and the light masses they flungproduced no effect. Peter broke off branches from a dead tree andthrew them into the shelter, without causing the bear to come out.Finally Fred, who happened to be standing beside a birch tree, peeledoff a great strip of bark and lighted it with a match.
"Hold on! Don't throw that!" yelled Peter.
He was too late. Fred had already cast the flaming mass into the camp,too close to the piles of cedar twigs. The resinous leaves caught andflashed up. There was a glare of smoky flame--a wild scramble andscurry under the shelter, and the bear burst out, and plunged at thesnowy sides of the pit on the side opposite Fred's position.
He fell back as he had done before, but floundered up with a secondleap. Maurice, who was nearest, gave a shrill yell and tried to dashaside, but he stumbled and went head-long in the deep snow.
Fred instantly leaped into the camp. The shelter was full of smoke andlight flame, but he knew where the rifles lay, and snatched one.Straightening up, he was just in time to see the bear vanishing withlong leaps into the darkness, ploughing up clouds of snow.
He fired one shot wildly, then another, but there was no sign of theanimal's being stopped, and the next instant it was out of sight.
"Quick! Stamp out this fire!" exclaimed Peter at his shoulder.
They tore down the flaming branches and beat them out in the snow. Thelight flame was easily put out, but it left the camp a chaos ofblackened twigs and ashes.
"Well, we turned him out," said Maurice, who had hastened in to help."Did you hit him, do you think?"
"I wish I'd killed him!" said Fred. "He's ruined our camp. But Idon't believe I touched him. He was going too fast."
Peter had raked the camp-fire together and thrown on fresh wood. Abright blaze sprang up, and by its light they took off their stockingsand looked for the dead white of frozen toes. But it was only Mauricewho had suffered the least frost-bite, and this yielded to a littlesnow-rubbing. The heavy woolen stockings, and perhaps the depth of thesnow itself had protected the rest of them.
Putting on his moccasins Fred then went to look for results from hisshots, but came back reporting not a drop of blood on the snow. Thebullets had missed cleanly, and the animal was probably miles away bythat time.
"What do you suppose he'll do for the rest of the winter?" Mauriceasked.
"Oh, he'll find some hole to crawl into, or perhaps he'll just creepunder a log and let the snow bury him," said Peter. "He'll have tolook a long time to find another snug nest like this one, though."
The big log was hollow, as they had thought, and the fire had burnedwell into the cavity. They could see the nest where the bear had lain,soft with rotted wood and strewn with black hairs. It seemed a pity tohave turned him out of so cozy a sleeping-place.
The boys' own sleeping-place was in a complete state of wreck. Thecedar roofing had fallen in, and everything was littered with snow andburned brush. The fire had been too light and too quickly extinguishedto do any damage to the stores, however, and they were relieved to findthat the bear had eaten none of the bacon or bread. Probably theanimal had been merely cowering there for shelter, afraid to come out.
They did not attempt to rebuild the shelter roof, but cleared away thesnow and ashes, and sat in their sleeping-bags by the fire. After allthe excitement none of them felt like sleeping. They were hungry,though, and finally they boiled tea and cooked a pan of bacon and driedeggs. Even after this they lay talking for a long time, and it wasbetween midnight and dawn when they finally fell asleep.
This was the reason why it was long after sunrise when they awoke,feeling rather as if they had had a bad night. It was another clear,bright day, though still very cold, and they felt it imperative thatthey should reach the cabin before nightfall.
That forenoon they made all the speed they could, halted for only abrief rest at noon, and pushed on energetically through the afternoon.The cabin could not be far, unless Macgregor had mistaken the way.Look as he would, he could not make out any landmarks that he couldremember; but he had been through only by canoe in the summer, and thewoods have a very different appearance in the winter.
As the afternoon wore on they began to grow anxious. At every turningthey looked eagerly ahead, but they saw nothing except the unbrokenforest. It was nearly sunset when Maurice suddenly pointed forwardwith a shout of excitement.
They had just rounded a bend of the river. A hundred yards away,nestling in a hemlock thicket, stood a squat log hut. But no trail ledto its door, no smoke rose from its chimney, the snow had driftedalmost to its eaves, and it looked gloomy and desolate as the darkeningwilderness itself.
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