CHAPTER XVI
Fred never quite knew how he got back to camp after he had found theriver. He found his companions still sound asleep, but it did not takehim long to rouse them and to tell them the news.
"I couldn't see any tracks on the shore. I don't think any one haspassed," Fred said.
In less than a minute the boys, wild with joy, were hurrying throughthe woods again. It was almost dark when they reached the river;peering close to the ground they examined the trail carefully, to makesure that the trappers had not already passed.
The heavy rain had washed the shores, and no fresh tracks showed in themud. The men had not been over the portage that day, and they couldhardly have passed the rapids without making a carry. They hadevidently camped for the night at some point below, and would not comeup the river until morning.
After piling up some hemlock boughs for a bed, the boys lay down, anddropped into a heavy sleep. Now that the strain was over, Fred slept,too. In fact, for the last quarter of an hour he had hardly been ableto stay on his feet.
In the gray dawn Horace awakened them. They were stiff from theirthirty-mile race of the day before, and their feet were swollen. Hotfood--especially hot tea--was what they longed for; but they wereafraid to make a fire, and they had to content themselves with a littleraw venison for their breakfast.
Horace thought that they could make their ambush where they were aswell as anywhere else. The portage was about thirty yards long, andthe narrow trail passed over a ridge and ran through dense hemlockthickets. If the trappers came up the trail in single file, carryingheavy loads, they could not use their rifles against a sudden attack.
The boys armed themselves each with a hardwood bludgeon; then theyensconced themselves in the thickets where they could see the reachesof the river below--and waited.
An hour passed. It was almost sunrise, and there was no sign of thetrappers on the river. The boys grew nervous with dread and anxiety.The tree-tops began to glitter with sunlight. It was almost sixo'clock.
"Could they have gone some other way?" asked Fred uneasily, staringupstream.
At that very moment Macgregor grasped his arm and pointed down theriver. Two small objects had appeared round a bend, half a mile below.They were certainly canoes, making slow headway against the stiffcurrent, but they were too far away for the boys to make them outplainly. Minute by minute they grew nearer.
"The front one's a Peterboro!" said Mac. "There's one man in it, andtwo in the other. I think I can see the fox cage."
Without doubt it was the trappers. The young prospectors slipped backthrough the thickets, almost to the upper end of the trail, andconcealed themselves in the hemlocks.
"Above all things, try to get hold of their guns!" said Horace.
For a long while they waited in terrible suspense. They could not seethe landing, nor at first could they hear anything, for the tumblingwater of the rapids roared in their ears. After what seemed almost anhour, stumbling footsteps sounded near by on the trail, and the bow ofthe Peterboro hove in sight. A man was carrying it on his head; hesteadied it with one hand, and in the other grasped a gun--Horace'srepeating rifle.
When he was almost within arm's reach, Mac sprang and tackled him lowlike a football player. The trapper dropped the gun with a startledyell, and went over headlong into the hemlocks--canoe and all.
Horace leaped out to seize the gun that the man had dropped. Before hecould touch it, the second trapper rushed up the trail with his rifleclubbed. Fred struck out at him with his bludgeon. The blow missedthe fellow's head, and fell on his arm. Down clattered the rifle,discharging as it fell. The trapper made a frantic leap aside, anddisappeared into the bushes.
As Fred snatched up the rifle, he caught a glimpse of the thirdtrapper, the wiry half-breed, hastening up the path.
"Halt! Hands up!" shouted Horace, raising the repeater.
The man stopped, fired a wild shot, turned and bolted back toward thelanding. Fred and his brother rushed after him; they reached thelanding just in time to see him leap into the birch canoe, which stillheld the fox cage, shove off, and digging his paddle furiously into thewater, shoot down the stream.
"After him! The canoe! Quick!" shouted Horace.
They dashed back. The man that Fred had struck was nowhere to be seen.Macgregor had pinned his antagonist to the ground, and seemed to havehim well subdued.
"Never mind him, Mac!" Fred cried. "Pick up that canoe in a hurry!One of the scoundrels has got away with the foxes!"
All three of them seized the canoe and rushed it down to the landing.There they found the shore strewn with articles of camp outfit wherethe men had unloaded the canoes.
"Load it in, boys!" cried Horace. "Take what we need. We're notcoming back."
They pitched an armful or two of supplies into the canoe. Fred'sshotgun was there, and several other articles that the boys recognizedas their own. The rest was a fair exchange for the outfit that theyhad abandoned in their tent.
They shoved the canoe off. The half-breed had gained a long lead bythis time. He was nearly a quarter of a mile ahead, paddlingfrantically; he did not even stop to fire at the boys. But there werethree paddles in pursuit, and the boys began to gain on him noticeably.More than two miles flashed by, and then the roar of rapids soundedahead.
"Got him!" panted Mac. "He'll have to land now."
Round another bend shot the birch canoe, with the Peterboro threehundred yards behind, and now the broken water came in sight. It was along, rock-staked chute, and the boys thought it would be suicidal totry to run it. But the half-breed kept straight on in mid-channel.
"He's going to try to run through!" Horace cried. "He'll drown himselfand the foxes!"
The boys yelled at him; but the next instant the man's canoe had shotinto the broken water. For a moment they lost sight of him in a cloudof spray; then they saw him half-way down the rapids, going like abullet. With incredible skill, he was keeping his craft upright.
The boys drove their canoe toward the landing, and still watched theman. When he was almost through the rapids, they saw his canoe shootbow upward into the air, hang a moment, and then go over.
Shouting with excitement, they dragged the canoe ashore, picked it up,and went over the portage at a run. Far down the stream they saw thebirch canoe floating on its side, near the fox cage. They had justlaunched the Peterboro at the tail of the rapids, when they sawsomething black bobbing in the swirling water.
It was the head of the half-breed. He was swimming feebly, and whenthey hauled him into the canoe, was almost unconscious. He had a greatbleeding gash just above his ear, where he had struck a rock; but hewas not seriously injured. The boys paid little attention to him, buthastened to rescue their treasure. When they came up with the birchcanoe, they found that the fox cage had been lashed to it with a stripof deerskin, and, to their great relief, that the foxes were there, allfour of them, alive and afloat.
They got the cage ashore as quickly as possible. The foxes weredripping with water, but looked as lively as ever. To all appearances,the ducking had not hurt them.
The canoe itself had not come off so well. It had a great rent in thebottom, and Horace stamped another hole through the bow. Then the boysexamined their new outfit. From their own former store they had akettle, a frying-pan, a box of rifle-cartridges, and a sack of tea.They had taken from the trappers' supplies half a sack of flour, a lumpof salt pork, two blankets, and two rifles.
The half-breed had recovered his wits by this time; sitting on thebank, he glared savagely at them.
"You'll find your partners waiting for you up the river," Horace saidto him. "We've got what we need, and you'll find the rest of your kiton the shore where you unpacked it. As for your rifles--"
He picked them up and tossed them into six feet of water. "By the timeyou've fished them out and mended your canoe I guess you won't want tofollow us. If you do, you won't catch us napping again, and we'llshoot y
ou on sight. _Savez_?"
The half-breed muttered some sullen response. The boys loaded the foxcage into the Peterboro, got in themselves, and shot down the riveragain in a fresh start for home. They left the trapper sitting on therock, glaring after them.
Now that the strain was over and the fight won, the boys felt utterlyexhausted. They kept on at as fast a pace as they could, however, andreached the Missanabie River a little after noon. There they stoppedto cook dinner.
Once more they had hot, black _voyageurs'_ tea, and fried flapjacks,and salt pork. It seemed the most delicious meal they had ever eaten;but when they had finished, they felt too weary to start up theMissanabie, and reckless of consequences, they lay down and slept foralmost two hours.
Then they continued their journey with double energy, and made goodprogress for the rest of the day.
They were entirely out of fresh meat, and had nothing whatever to givethe foxes, but fortunately Mac shot three spruce grouse that evening.They dropped the heads of the birds into the cage; the foxes devouredthem with a voracity that indicated that the trappers had fed themnothing. Early the next morning Horace by a long shot killed a deer atthe riverside.
It was a rough journey up the Missanabie, but not nearly so hard as thetrip up the Smoke River had been. For eight days they paddled, poled,tracked, and portaged, until they came at last to the point where theyhad first launched the canoe.
The "long carry" over the Height of Land now confronted them. It istrue that they had by no means so much outfit to carry now, but, on theother hand, they had no packers to help them. They had to make twojourneys of it, and, as a further difficulty, one of the boys had toremain with the fox cage. As they reached the top of the ridge ontheir first journey, Macgregor turned and looked back over the wildlandscape to the northwest.
"Somewhere over there," he murmured, "is the diamond country."
"Shut up!" exclaimed Horace, in exasperation.
"I never want to hear the word 'diamond' again," added Fred.
They left the foxes together with the rest of their loads at the end ofthe "carry," and Fred remained to guard them, while Peter and Horacewent back for the remainder of the outfit. While they were gone Frednoticed that one of the cubs was not looking well. It refused to eator drink; its fur was losing its gloss, and it lay in a sort of a dozemost of the time. Plainly captivity did not agree with it.
Horace and Peter were much concerned about its condition when they cameback. None of them had any idea what to do; in fact it is doubtful ifthe most skilled veterinary surgeon could have prescribed.
"The real trouble is their cramped quarters, of course," said Horace."We must get home as quickly as possible, and get them out of this andinto a larger cage. Some of the others will sicken if we don't looksharp."
They made all the speed they could, and, now that they were fairly onthe canoe route south of the Height of Land, they felt that they werewell toward home. It was downstream now, and portages grew less andless frequent as the river grew. They did not stop to hunt or fish;the paddled till dusk, and were up at dawn. They felt that it was arace for the life of the valuable little animal, and they did not sparethemselves. Two days afterward, late in the afternoon, they came tothe little railway village that had been their starting-point.
The cub seemed no better--worse, if anything. There was a train forToronto at eight o'clock that night. The boys hurried to the hotelwhere they had left their baggage, and changed their tattered woodsgarments for more civilized clothing. There was time to eat acivilized supper, with bread and vegetables and jam,--almost forgottenluxuries,--and time also to send a telegram to Maurice Stark.
They carried the cage of foxes to the hotel with them, for they weredetermined henceforth not to let the animals out of their sight for amoment. The unusual spectacle of the three boys with their burdenattracted much attention, and when the contents of the cage becameknown, nearly the whole population of the village assembled to have alook.
The crowd followed them to the depot, and saw the foxes put into thebaggage-car. They had secured permission for one of them to ride withthe cage and stand guard, and the boys took turns at this duty. Theother two tried to snatch a few hours of rest in the sleeper; but theberths seemed stifling and airless. Accustomed to the open camp, theycould not sleep a wink, and were rather more fatigued the next morningthan when they had started. It was still four hours to Toronto, butthey reached the city at noon. Macgregor was standing the last watchin the baggage-car, and as Fred and Horace came down the steps of thePullman they saw Maurice Stark pushing through the crowd.
"What luck?" Maurice demanded anxiously, lowering his voice as he shookhands. "Did you find the--the--?"
"Not any diamonds," replied Fred, with a laugh. "But we brought backsome black gold. Come and see it."
They went forward to the platform where the baggage was being unloaded.Macgregor was helping to hand out the willow cage. It looked strangelywild and rough among the neat suit-cases and trunks.
"What in the world have you got there?" cried Maurice, peering throughthe bars.
Fred and Horace were also looking anxiously to learn the condition ofthe sick cub.
"Why, he's dead!" exclaimed Fred, in bitter disappointment.
"Yes," said Mac; "the little fellow keeled over just after I came onguard. I didn't send word to you fellows, for I knew there was nothingto be done."
The rest of the family were alive and looked in good condition. Theboys had already decided what they would do immediately, and, calling acab, they drove with the foxes to the house of a well-known naturalistconnected with the Toronto Zoological Park. He was as competent as anyone could be, and he readily agreed to take care of the foxes till theyshould be sold.
Naturally, however, he declined to be responsible for their safety, andHorace at once attempted to insure their lives. No insurance companywould accept the risk, but after much negotiation he at last managed toeffect a policy of two thousand dollars for one month, on payment of anexorbitant premium. He was more successful in getting insuranceagainst theft, and took out a policy for ten thousand dollars with aburglar insurance company, on condition of a day and night watchmanbeing employed to guard the animals.
It was plain that the foxes were going to be a source of terribleanxiety while they remained on the boys' hands. Horace at oncetelegraphed to the manager of one of the largest fur-breeding ranchesin Prince Edward Island, and received a reply saying that arepresentative of the company would call within a few days.
The man turned up three days later, and inspected the foxes in a casualand uninterested way.
"We'd hardly think of buying," he remarked. "We've got about all thestock we need. I was coming to Toronto just when I got your wire, andI thought I'd look in at them. What are you thinking of asking forthem?"
"Fifty thousand dollars," said Horace.
The fur-trader laughed heartily.
"You'll be lucky if you get a quarter of that," he said. "Why, webought a fine, full-grown black fox last year for five hundred. Yourcubs are hardly worth anything, you know. They 're almost sure to diebefore they grow up."
"Professor Forsythe doesn't think so," replied Horace.
"Well, I'm glad I saw them," said the dealer. "If I can hear of abuyer for you I'll send him along, but you'll have to come away down onyour prices. You might let me have your address, in case I hear ofanything."
"It doesn't look as if we were going to sell them!" said Fred, who wasnot used to shrewd business dealing. "Perhaps we can't get any priceat all."
Horace laughed.
"Oh, that was all bluff. I saw the fellow's eyes light up when he sawthese black beauties. He'll be back to see us within a day or two."
Sure enough, the man did come back. He scarcely mentioned the foxesthis time, but took the boys out motoring. As they were parting hesaid carelessly, "I think I might get you a buyer for your foxes, buthe couldn't pay over fifteen thousand."
&
nbsp; "No use in our talking to him then," replied Horace, with equalindifference.
That was the beginning of a series of negotiations that ran throughfully a week. It was interspersed with motor rides, dinner parties,and other amusements to which the parties treated one anotheralternately. The Prince Edward Island man brought himself to make aproposal of twenty thousand, and Horace came down to thirty-fivethousand, and there they stuck. Finally Horace came down to thirty.
"I'll give you twenty-five," said the furbreeder at last, "but I thinkI'll be losing money at that."
"I'll meet you halfway," replied Horace. "Split the difference. Makeit twenty-seven thousand, five hundred."
Both parties were well wearied with bargaining by this time, and thebuyer gave in.
"All right!" he agreed. "You'll make your fortune, young man, if youkeep on, for you 're the hardest customer to deal with that I've metthis year."
The dealer went back next day to the east, taking the foxes with him,and leaving with the boys a certified check for $27,500. It was not asmuch as they had hoped to clear, but it was a small fortune after all.
"Comes to nearly seven thousand apiece," Fred remarked.
"Not at all," remonstrated Maurice. "I don't see where I have anyshare in it."
"Oh, come! We're rolling in money. You must have something out of it.Mustn't he, Horace?"
They knew that Maurice really needed the money, and it was not by hisown will that he had failed to go with the expedition. In the end hewas persuaded to accept the odd five hundred dollars, but he refused totake a cent more. The remainder made just nine thousand dollars apiecefor each of the three other boys.
"I've lost a year's varsity work," said Peter, "but I guess it wasworth it. Nine thousand is more than I ever expect to make in a yearof medical practice. Besides, we know there are diamonds in thatcountry. Horace found them. Why can't we--"
"Shut up!" cried Fred.
"Take his money away from him!" exclaimed Horace. "I don't want tohear any more of diamonds."
"--And why can't we make another expedition," continued Peter, "andprospect for--" But Fred and Horace pounced on him, and after aviolent struggle got him down on the couch.
"Prospect for what?" cried Fred, sitting on his chest.
"Ow--let me up!" gurgled Mac. "Why, for--for more black foxes!"
THE END
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Northern Diamonds Page 17
