The Cruise of the Snowbird: A Story of Arctic Adventure
Page 39
sleep. He felt more sorry for hiscompanions than for himself, for when daylight returned he never doubtedfor a moment that he would be able to find his way, but he would havegiven a good deal to be able to relieve their anxiety. It was someconsolation to him in his loneliness to have the companionship of abook. But reading by the firelight made him drowsy, and it was not verylong ere the book dropped from his powerless grasp, and he fell fastasleep. When he awoke it was broad daylight, the fire had gone out, andhe felt very cold and stiff and tired. But he was sure now he wouldsoon regain the creek.
But the mistake he fell into was a very terrible one. He had forgottenthat he had crossed the stream, or rather that he had not re-crossed it.When he left the ravine, therefore, and commenced walking in a directline north-west as he imagined, he was in reality going quite theopposite way. He hurried along, too, at a very rapid rate, sometimeseven running, so that by the time McBain and Seth reached the hill-top,where Rory and Ralph were, and the search was begun in earnest, theremust have been a distance of at least fifteen miles between himself andhis anxious companions.
It was probably an hour longer before Seth found the trail and Oscartook it up. Both dogs started off on the same scent apparently, butthey had not followed it for a mile ere they seemed to disagree, themastiff going up to the higher ground, the Saint Bernard keeping farlower down. Both animals were right, only the former was on the trackof deer, following the bent he had been trained to; the latter was onhis master's trail. This put Seth out, however; he naturally had morefaith in the wisdom of his own dog, so Oscar was called away, and it wasnot until deer were seen that the mistake was discovered, and steps hadto be retraced in order to seek once again for the right trail, and thusmuch valuable time was lost.
When, about five hours after this, Allan found himself once again at thetop of a ravine, adown which a stream meandered, "I declare," he said tohimself, "this is provoking; I've been going round in a circle, and hereI am very near the spot where I started from."
Now this was not the case. He had been walking almost in a bee-line,and had struck quite another river.
The probability that this might be the case did cross his mind, but, hereasoned with himself, this stream must reach the sea, and if I followit I am bound to come upon the beach; then, if I am not in sight of the_Snowbird_, I have only to walk along until I do see her. But littledid he know then that the course of this river was a very winding oneindeed, and that it fell into the sea after running among a ridge ofhigh mountains, twenty good leagues to the eastward of the bay in whichlay the yacht. To make a resolve, however, was with Allan to keep it,so he recommenced his journey and hurried onwards as before. He walkedall day, and as the shades of evening began to fall he found himselfvery tired and weary, having eaten nothing for over four-and-twentyhours. He had the good fortune, however, to find food in the shape of ajack rabbit. This, after being cleaned, he rolled in clay and cookedgipsy-fashion in the fire he had built. Then, once again rollinghimself in his plaid, he lay down to rest and to think. It must beconfessed that his position was far from an enviable one, and histhoughts anything but pleasant. He began to fear he had made somestrange mistake, for why, if he were indeed going in the rightdirection, were there no signs that his friends were seeking for him, ashe knew they must be? Should he start to-morrow and walk againup-stream, or should he leave this river that seemed endless and plungeonce again into forest and hill? Or should he remain stationary? Thislast was precisely what one in his situation ought to have done, butalready the spirit of unrest had taken possession of his mind, and helonged for the night and the darkness to wear away, that he might resumehis toilsome march, albeit the probability dawned upon his mind that hemight wander in this wilderness until he died. Would this be the end ofall his ambitions? Would he never again sail up his own lovely lake inthe Scottish Highlands, and receive the tender greetings of his motherand sister? He asked himself such questions over and over again tillthey almost maddened him, and he was obliged at last to start up andpace rapidly up and down in front of the fire. He walked thus forhours, until ready to drop, then he heaped more logs on the burningpile, and again sat down. The sounds that issued from the forest werefar from reassuring. There was a whisper of wind through the branchesof the pine-trees, there was the mournful cry of some night bird, or thescream of some frightened bird trying in vain to escape the clutches ofthe owl, and there was the barking yelp of the great grey wolf.
Again and again poor Allan threw himself down in front of the fire, andattempted to compose himself to sleep, but all in vain. He tried toread, but there was no connection between the author's words and his ownthoughts, so he threw the book aside at last, and pressed his palm tohis burning brow. His head ached and his eyes felt like balls of fire.Was he going mad? The very thought that he might be caused him suchagony, that the sweat stood in on beads his forehead. He found his wayto the river side and bathed his face and head in the cool water; thissoothed him; then his troubled mind found solace in prayer, and layinghimself down once more, just like a tired child, he began to repeat tohimself psalm after psalm, and hymn after hymn, that he had learned atschool. And so gradually his eyes began to droop, and troubled dreamstook the place of waking thoughts.
And the night wore on, and on, and on.
But it still wanted many hours of morning.
So light were Allan's slumbers that the snapping of a twig or branch,some distance away in the thicket, caused him to spring up at last andseize his rifle. He listened, but there was no unusual sound to alarmhim. The forest he knew was filled with wolves, but he also knew fromexperience that the courage of the brutes is of no very high standing,and unless they came in numbers they would hardly dare to attack him.
He heaped branches of wood and logs on the fire nevertheless. While soengaged there fell upon his startled ear the sounds of hurried breathingclose behind him, and next moment, even before he had time to raise hisrifle to defend himself, an animal bigger and more powerful than abuffalo-wolf had sprung upon and rolled him to the ground.
And this animal, reader, was none other than his own great honest Oscar.When McBain and his party, still on Allan's trail, had encamped for thenight, this good dog had stolen away and left them. Night and darknesswere nothing to him, nor did he fear bears or wolves, or anything elsethat makes a forest dangerous to traverse after sundown. He wasinstigated by the love he bore for his master, and guided by scentalone.
But what a change his presence made on Allan's mind!
He felt no longer gloomy and hopeless, and as he hugged the giant SaintBernard, he could not help dropping tears upon his broad brow. Onlythey were tears of joy, and tears that relieved his pent-up feelings andcooled his burning brain.
If the dog could only have spoken, a most animated conversation wouldhave ensued forthwith.
But as soon as Oscar had relieved his feelings by a series of wildgambols and quixotic performances that are simply indescribable, Allanplied him with a hundred questions, and talked to him just as if thepoor animal knew every word he uttered.
"And how did you find me, dear old boy? What a blessing you are, to besure! But do you know I took you for a great wolf, and it is a wonder Ididn't shoot you? Oh! think what a thing it would have been if I hadkilled my dear kind Oscar. It won't bear thinking about. And where didyou leave our friends? They are coming to seek for me, I know; but you,you impatient boy! you must give them the slip and come paddling alongthrough the dark dreary forest to look for your beloved master. Heigho!but I am so glad you're here. I am so happy, and I am so hungry too.And, by the way, that reminds me I roasted a rabbit last night, Oscar,and could hardly touch it. But we'll have it now. What have you got inthe little barrel at your collar? Coffee, I declare! Well, well,well!"
Talking thus, Allan shared his supper with his friend, and then laidhimself down by his side, using the dog as his pillow, just as he hadoften done when resting at home, among the blooming heather on the braesof Arrandoon. That
was the sweetest and most refreshing hour's slumberever he remembered having enjoyed.
He awoke at last like the proverbial giant refreshed, and found hispillow sitting up alongside of him, and gazing down at him with lovinghazel eyes.
"Hullo, Oscar!" he said: "day is breaking yonder in the east; it isalmost time we were moving."
The dog shook himself as much as to say,--
"I'm ready at a moment's notice to guide you safely home."
There was a broad belt of red light in the distant horizon and towardsthis Oscar attempted to lead his master, with many a bound and many abark.
But Allan wouldn't budge.
"Not in that direction, Oscar, old boy," he said; "our road lies towardsthe _setting_, not the rising sun."
"Bow, wow!" barked Oscar, as if reasoning with him, "_bow, wow, wow,wow_!"
There was something in the