by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER IV THE CAPTURE OF OLD SILVER
Johnny felt his pulse quicken as he sped along over the ice. The silverfox had come out of the hole. There could be no doubt of that. Would hedodge back in again or would he start across the ice?
"If he starts!" the boy breathed.
He must not be too fast nor too sure. Last time he had muffed a gloriouschance. Slowing up, he slid in behind a clump of elders and came to astandstill. There, gripping a shrub, he stood trembling like a butterflyready for flight.
As for Lawrence, he was coming on more slowly. Naturally more cautiousthan his cousin, he had an eye out for trouble. That fat old mother bearmight still be lurking among the ridges. He had not forgotten how she hadcome charging down upon them.
"Can't take unnecessary chances," he told himself. "Life is wonderful. Iam sure that taking unnecessary chances is wrong. It is making light ofGod's great gift to us--life."
Ah, yes, it was good to live just now. For the first time in their liveshis little family felt sure of having a home of their own. As he glidedslowly along he thought of the summer's struggle. At first it had beendamp and bitterly cold. Then the sun had been hot and the mosquitoes hadcome in swarms.
Through all this they had labored on; father, mother, and these two stoutboys. It was said that gangs of men would be along to clear patches ofland and build cabins. To this they had not listened. "We came to makeour own way," they insisted. "We are pioneers. Pioneers must work."
When garden and potato patches were planted they had started the cabin.Selecting, from near and far, trees that were dead but not decayed, theyhad built a cabin whose walls would not warp and shrink as would thosebuilt of green timber.
Later, in the autumn when sharp winds told of a long winter ahead, theyhad cut squares of tough sod and piled them about the cabin until itseemed a sod house. When the question of a heating stove had arisen, theyhad discovered an abandoned gasoline barrel, had cut one hole for a door,another for the stove-pipe, had done a little drilling and riveting, andthus had made a stove that, fed on crackling fir logs, laughed at theArctic cold.
"Pioneers!" he whispered. "We are pioneers." How he loved that thought.
Of a sudden his attention was drawn from past to present by Johnny'sbeckoning hand. With a quick twisting glide, he moved silently forwarduntil he was at his companion's side.
"Look," Johnny gripped his arm. "There is the fox. He hasn't startedacross yet and--"
"And there are the otters!" Lawrence broke in with a shrill whisper.
"Yes," Johnny agreed. "That's the queer part of it. They came just soclose to the fox, then seemed to shout something at him."
"Like one boy daring another to come out and fight," Lawrence laughedlow.
"Yes, or inviting him to a game of tag," whispered Johnny. "And look!There he goes! There goes the fox! Good old otters! They arehelping--helping a lot."
He had spoken the truth, the fox was after one of the otters.
"Little good it will do him," Lawrence chuckled. "Those otters are moreat home on ice and in water than on land."
"Listen!" Johnny's voice was tense now. His figure stiffened. "In aminute I'm going after him. I've got the bag. If I get him I'll pop himinside. I won't miss now. You just follow along slowly. I might needyou."
"Al-all right," the younger boy agreed.
There might have been boys who would have said, "This is my turn. Youmuffed last time." Not so Lawrence. All too well he knew the skill andnatural daring of his cousin. And, after all, in their little family therule had ever been, "Each for all and all for each." So he watched hiscousin glide silently out for one more adventure.
Ten seconds later in watching the little drama of wild life being playedthere on the ice, he had all but forgotten Johnny. Never before had heseen the tame otters put on such a clever show. Just as the larger onehad so far escaped the onrush of the fox that he was becomingdiscouraged, the small otter, with cunning and extreme daring, slipped upand all but shouted in the fox's ear. At once, the now thoroughly angeredfox turned to dash after this second intruder.
No sooner had the first otter been abandoned than he turned about tobegin slipping up on the fox to dare him for one more race.
"For all the world like a game of tag!" Lawrence murmured.
All this was aiding Johnny, though it is to be doubted whether the ottersknew the value of their antics. The fox was being led farther and fartherout on the ice. At the same time his attention was so held by thisstrange game that he was almost certain to miss catching sight of the boywho now glided closer, ever closer to him.
"Good old otters!" Johnny repeated in a whisper as, drawing hismoose-hide mittens tight, he prepared for the final dash.
"He's going after him," Lawrence thought as, with a thrill shooting uphis spine, he glided from his sheltered spot, ready, if need be, to comein on the finish.
With a suddenness that must have been startling to the keenest eyes,Johnny swept down upon the fox and the otters. Did the otters see him?Beyond doubt. They saw everything. But the fox? For once he was caughtquite unawares. One startled look, a quick squatting down on the ground,and Johnny was at his side. Before the fox could relax from this stiffpose, Johnny's hands, like a brass collar, were about his neck.
"You got him!" Lawrence shouted, springing into action. "You got him!Hurray!"
Then a terrible thing happened. Overjoyed at their great good fortune,Lawrence for the moment lost his bearing. Of a sudden his skate struckice that crunched ominously. He tripped to go plunging forward into theblack waters of the racing river. He had fallen into an open pool.
"I'll drown," he thought, as, in an involuntary manner, he struck outwith his hands in a swimming motion. All too late he saw ice ahead. Nextinstant he was beneath the river's ice.
Johnny saw all this. With a gasp of terror he all but dropped the fox.Then, scarcely knowing what he did, he thrust the fox as if he were hismother's fur scarf, into the moose-hide bag, drew the strings tight, thenshot away toward the spot from which his cousin had vanished.
As Lawrence shot beneath the ice, life seemed near its end. Yet there hadnever been a time when life had seemed so real and so joyous as now. Fora second panic gripped him. Holding his breath, he tried to think.
In an instant his mind was clear. He knew what he should do. There weretwo open pools farther on. How far? He did not know exactly. Could hehold his breath till then? He must hope. And he must try to move overcloser to the shelving bank. If he reached the pool he might then touchbottom.
Desperately he struggled to draw himself over to the left. His headhummed. His lungs were bursting, his heart pounding.
"It--it's the end," he thought.
And then, up he popped. Just in time, as his feet touched, he gripped theedge of the ice and held there. Ten agonizing seconds he clung there,then a voice shouted, "Hold on, I'm coming."
Ten seconds more and Johnny, who had leaped to the bank and raced alongit, reached out to grip his mackinaw.
"Now!" he shouted. "Out you come." And out he came.
Weak from excitement and exhaustion, he lay there for a time motionless.
"This won't do," Johnny exclaimed at last. "We've got to get going.Here," he dragged the sodden mackinaw from his cousin's shoulders, thenput his own sheep-lined coat in its place. After putting his own drymittens on Lawrence's hands, he pulled him to his feet.
"It's you for skates and the ice, then home as fast as ever you can." Hepushed him on before him.
As his skates touched the ice Lawrence felt new warm blood racing throughhis veins. He was off with the speed of the wind. And after him, with amoose-hide sack dangling at his side and filled with one very angrysilver fox, came his loyal, anxious yet joyous friend and cousin, Johnny.
The day, for this part of the world, was not extremely cold. Lawrence'strousers froze into pipe-like forms, but his sturdy, youthful bodyresisted the cold and sent him speeding on his way.
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Dropping down on the river bank at last, they dragged off their skates totake the usual short cut through the timber.
As he passed the carefully built shelter beside that narrow stream,Johnny recalled the note tacked to a post and wondered afresh whether themysterious Bill would arrive, just as the note said he would, on July1st.
"Who do you suppose he left that note for?" he exclaimed suddenly.
"Haven't--the--slightest-notion," Lawrence panted, still racing along."One--thing--is--sure. I'm--going--to--be--there--when that day comes."
"We'll both be there," Johnny agreed. Somehow, as he thought of it, in astrange way it seemed that Bill and the silver fox must in some way beassociated with each other. "Pure moonbeams," he assured himself, yet thethought remained in the back of his mind.
There is something in the north that is called "Grapevine telegraph."This name is given to the mysterious means by which, in a land devoid oftelephone and telegraph, news travels fast and far. Was it this unrealtelegraph that, six hours later, as Lawrence, none the worse for hisexperience, lay before the roaring fire, brought a stranger to theirdoor? Who can say? Be that as it may, there he was.
"Excuse me for intruding," said the tall, smiling stranger as he brushedthe snow from his moccasins. "I heard you'd got a silver fox and I justhad to have a look at him. It's been three years since I saw one. I'm JimClem. Got a claim over on the other side of the settlement."
"You--you've seen silver foxes." Johnny was on his feet.
"Hundreds of 'em." The stranger smiled.
"Hun-hundreds," Johnny stammered. "I thought they were rare."
"Used to be," admitted Jim Clem. "Still are, fairly so. Did you get agood one?"
"Yes, I--well," Johnny whirled about. "I'll show you." Opening the backdoor, he dragged in a small wire cage. "We just put him in this for alittle while," he half apologized.
"Oh! He's alive. Hurt much?" Jim asked.
"Not hurt at all."
"Not hurt?" Jim stared. "How'd you catch him?"
"With my hands," Johnny chuckled. Then, seeing that this would not standas a bare statement, he explained briefly their method of capture.
"Say-ee," Jim exclaimed, dropping into a chair, "you're regular natives.And that's a fine specimen. Time was when you'd get two thousand dollarsfor him."
"Yes, we--"
"But not now," Jim broke in. "Never again. Know much about foxes?"
"No, we--"
"Then, I'll tell you." Jim settled back in his chair. "I worked on asilver fox farm for three years. 'Million Dollar Farm,' they called it.And that's what it was. Raised only silver foxes.
"But you don't get that way all at once," he laughed. "Not by a greatdeal. Take that fellow you got there. Suppose you find him a mate anddecide to start raising silver foxes. Pretty soon you'd have a lovely lotof cute little fox cubs. But would they be silver foxes? Not one. That'salmost certain."
"Not one?" Lawrence sat up.
"That's it," Jim agreed. "You'd get two or three little red foxes and,with great luck, a cross fox, that's all."
"You see," he leaned forward, "a silver fox is a freak, just as ahalf-white robin is. If a half-white robin hatches his eggs his youngones are likely to be jolly little robin redbreasts, nothing more.
"Only by keeping foxes for years and years can you at last hope to raisepure silver foxes. That takes thousands and thousands of dollars. Fourbrothers went in for that in a big way years ago. Last year they sold13,000 pelts for more than $1,000,000. And that," he added, "figures upto something like $77.00 apiece."
"That's what our fox is worth," Lawrence groaned. "And we'd have to killhim to get that?"
"Oh, sure," Jim grinned. "But truly," his face sobered, "that's the toughpart about fox farming. In the end you've got to kill 'em, so some finelady can drape their skins about her neck."
"I'd never sell ours to a fox farm," Lawrence said with conviction.
"How about selling him alive to some zoo?" Johnny asked hopefully.
"Don't know very much about that," Jim replied slowly. "I wouldn't hopetoo much. There are 5,000 fox farms these days. And they raise somebeauties.
"But if you mean to keep this fellow alive," he added, "you want to get awooden barrel and make it into a den for him. Pack it all 'round withchaff and moss to make it warm. Then build him a wire pen all about it.He'll get along fine if you do that.
"I'll have to trot along." He rose to go. "Come and see me. I'll tell youmore about 'em. They're interesting no end, foxes are." He bade themgoodnight.
"Well," Johnny drawled slowly, "Old Silver won't buy us a tractor, that'ssure."
"No," said Lawrence. "But we can learn a lot about him and we can atleast keep him from eating our chickens. Don't give up the ship. We'llhappen onto something yet."
There are other rewards than money in this life of ours. Remarkableachievement of any sort usually brings us kind words of deserved praisefrom our fellowmen. It was so with Johnny and Lawrence. More than onesettler had suffered from the night raids of Old Silver. Now that he wasin prison his captors were highly praised.
Still the problem remained; should they give up their dream of completeindependence and go in debt for a tractor?
"I think you'd better," said Johnny. "There are only a few left and theyare going fast."
"There'll always be the Titan," Lawrence laughed.
"Yes, the Titan," Johnny agreed. "But who could ever pay for thattractor?"
The Titan was a powerful new type of tractor. Only one had been broughton and that one was priced at a cool thousand dollars.
"We'll wait a little longer," was Mr. Lawson's decision. "The tide offortune may turn our way."
