Under the Great Bear

by Kirk Munroe

  CHAPTER XIX.

  A MELANCHOLY SITUATION.

  In Labrador, under ordinary circumstances, the loss of such a quantityof provisions as Arsenic had carried away would have been a veryserious misfortune. But food was the one thing our lads had inabundance, and they were more unhappy at having lost a guide, who mighthave shown them a way out of their prison, than over the theft he hadso successfully accomplished.

  "The next time we catch an Indian we'll tie a string to him," saidCabot.

  "Yes," agreed White, "and it will be a stout one, too; but I am afraidthere won't be any more Indians on the coast this season."

  "How about Eskimo?"

  "Some of them may come along later, when the snowshoeing and sledgingget good enough, for they are apt to travel pretty far south during thewinter. Still, there's no knowing how far back from the coast theirline of travel may lie at this point, and dozens of them might passwithout our knowledge."

  "Couldn't we go up or down the coast as well as an Eskimo, wheneverthese miserable waterways freeze over?" asked Cabot.

  "Of course, if we had sledges, dogs, snowshoes, and fur clothing,"replied White; "but without all these things we might just as wellcommit suicide before starting."

  "Well, I'll tell you what we can do right off, and the sooner we setabout it the better. We can go inland as far as possible, and leave aline of flags or some sort of signals that will attract attention tothis place."

  "I don't know but what that is a good idea," remarked White,thoughtfully. "At any rate, it would be better than doing nothing, andif we don't get help in some way we shall certainly freeze to death inthis place long before the winter is over."

  So Cabot's suggestion was adopted, and the remainder of that day wasspent in preparing little flags of red and white cloth, attaching themto slender sticks, and in making a number of wooden arrows. On asmooth side of these they wrote:

  "Help! We are stranded on the coast."

  "I wish we could write it in Eskimo and Indian," said Cabot, "forEnglish doesn't seem to be the popular language of this country."

  "The flags and arrows will be a plain enough language for any nativeswho may run across them," responded White, "and I only hope they'll seethem; but it is a slim chance, and we'll probably be frozen stiff longbefore any one finds us."

  "Oh, I don't know," said Cabot, cheerfully. "There's firewood enoughin the schooner itself to last quite a while."

  "Burn the 'Sea Bee'!" cried White, aghast at the suggestion. "Icouldn't do it."

  "Neither could I at present; but I expect both of us could and would,long before our blood reached the freezing point."

  "But if we destroyed the schooner, how would we get out of here nextsummer?"

  "I'm sure I don't know, and don't care to try and think yet a while.Just now I am much more interested in the nearby winter than in a verydistant summer."

  The next day, and for a number of days thereafter, our lads worked atthe establishment of their signal line. They erected stone cairns atsuch distances apart that every one was visible from those on eitherside, and on the summit of each they planted a flag with itsaccompanying pointer. In this way they ran an unbroken range ofsignals for ten miles, and would have carried it further had they daredexpend any more of their precious firewood.

  While they were engaged upon this task the weather became noticeablycolder, the mercury falling below the freezing point each night, andthe whole country was wrapped in the first folds of the snow blanketunder which it would sleep for months. About the time their signalline was completed, however, there came a milder day, so suggestive ofthe vanished summer that Cabot declared his intention of spending anhour or so at the lookout. "There might be such a thing as a belatedvessel," he argued, "and I might have the luck to signal it. Anyhow, Iam going to make one more try before agreeing to settle down here forthe winter."

  As White was busy moving the galley stove into the cabin, and makingother preparations for their coming struggle against Arctic cold, Cabotrowed himself ashore and left the dinghy on the beach. Then he climbedto the summit of the lofty headland, where, for a long time, he leanedthoughtfully on the rude Alpine-stock that had aided his steps, andgazed out over the vacant ocean.

  While Cabot thus watched for ships that failed to come, White wasputting the finishing touches to his new cabin fixtures. He was justbeginning to wonder if it were not time for his comrade's return whenhe felt the slight jar of some floating object striking against theside of the schooner. Thinking that Cabot had arrived, he shouted acheery greeting, but turned to survey the general effect of what he haddone before going on deck. The next minute some one softly entered thecabin and sprang upon the unsuspecting youth, overpowering him andflinging him to the floor before he had a chance to offer resistance.Here he was securely bound and left to make what he could of thesituation, while his captors swarmed through the schooner withexclamations of delight at the richness of their prize.

  As White slowly recovered from the bewilderment of his situation he sawthat his assailants were Indians, and even recognised in one of themthe hideous features of the lad whom Cabot had named Arsenic.

  "What fools we have been," he thought, bitterly. "We might have knownthat he would come back with the first band of his friends that he ranacross. And to make sure that they would find us we filled the countrywith sign posts all pointing this way. Seems to me that was about asidiotic a thing as we could have done, and if ever a misfortune wasdeserved this one is. I wonder what has become of Cabot, and if theyhave caught him yet. I only hope he won't try to fight 'em, for they'djust as soon kill him as not. Probably they'll kill us both, though,so that no witnesses can ever appear against them. Poor chap! It wasa sad day for him when he attempted to help a fellow as unlucky as I amout of his troubles. Now I wonder what's up."

  A shrill cry of triumph had come from the shore, and the savages on theschooner's deck were replying to it with exultant yells.

  The cry from shore announced the capture of Cabot by two Indians whohad been left behind for that express purpose. Of course thenew-comers had known as soon as they discovered the dinghy that atleast one of the schooner's defenders was on shore, and had made theirarrangements accordingly. As we have seen, the naval contingentexperienced no difficulty in capturing the schooner, and a little laterthe land forces carried out their part of the programme with equalfacility. They merely hid themselves behind some boulders, and leapingout upon the young American, as he came unsuspectingly swinging downthe trail, overpowered him before he could make a struggle. Tying himbeyond a possibility of escape, they carried him down to the beach,where they uttered the cries that informed their comrades of theirtriumph.

  Until this time the schooner had been left at her anchorage, for fearlest any change in her position might arouse Cabot's suspicions. Nowthat they were free to do as they pleased with her the Indians cut hercable, and, after much awkward effort, succeeded in towing her to thebeach, where they made her fast.

  As the darkness and cold of night were now upon them, and as they hadno longer any use for the dinghy, they smashed it in pieces and starteda fire with its shattered timbers. At the same time they broke outseveral barrels of provisions, and the entire band, gathering about thefire, began to feast upon their contents.

  In the meantime Cabot and White, in their respective places ofcaptivity, were equally miserable through their ignorance of what hadhappened to each other, and of the fate awaiting them. Of course Cabothad seen the schooner brought to the beach, while White, still lying onher cabin floor, was able to guess at her position from such sounds ascame to his ears.

  During that eventful afternoon, while the savages were still preparingthe plan that had resulted in such complete success, a white man,setting a line of traps for fur-bearing animals, had run across theoutermost of the signals established by our lads a few days earlier.Its fluttering pennon had attracted his attention while he was still ata distance, and, filled with curiosity, he had gone
to it for a closerexamination. On reaching the signal he read the pencilled writing onits arrow, and then stood irresolute, evidently much perturbed, forseveral minutes. Finally, heaving a great sigh, he set forth in thedirection indicated by the arrow.

  He was a gigantic man, and presented a strange spectacle as he strodeswiftly across the country with the long, sliding gait of a practisedsnowshoer. Although his wide-set blue eyes were frank and gentle inexpression, a heavy mass of blonde hair, streaming over his shoulderslike a mane, and a shaggy beard, gave him an air of lion-like ferocity.This wildness of aspect, as well as his huge proportions, were bothincreased by his garments, which were entirely of wolf skins. Even hiscap was of this material, ornamented by a wolf's tail that streamed outbehind and adorned in front with a pair of wolf ears pricked sharplyforward. He carried a rifle and bore on his shoulders, as though itwere a feather weight, a pack of such size than an ordinarily strongman would have found difficulty in lifting it.

  As this remarkable stranger, looking more like a Norse war god than amere human being, reached one signal after another, he passed itwithout pausing for examination until he had gained a point about halfway to the coast. Then he came to an abrupt halt and studied thesurrounding snow intently. He had run across the trail made by Arsenicand his fellows a few hours earlier. After an examination of thesprawling footprints, the big man uttered a peculiar snort ofsatisfaction, and again pushed on with increased speed. An hour laterhe stood, concealed by darkness, on the verge of the cliffs enclosingLocked Harbour, gazing interestedly down on the fire-lit beach, thehalf-revealed schooner, the feasting savages, and the recumbent, dimlydiscerned figure of Cabot Grant, their prisoner.