The Young Woodsman; Or, Life in the Forests of Canada
Page 8
CHAPTER VIII.
IN THE NICK OF TIME.
If Frank was undecided, Mr. Johnston's mind was fully made up.
"Our only chance is for you to get to the shanty at once, Frank. It'll bea hard job, my boy, but you'll have to try it," said he.
"But what'll become of you, sir, staying here all alone? The wolves mightfind you out, and how could you defend yourself then?" asked Frank, insore bewilderment as to the solution of the dilemma.
"I'll have to take my chances of that, Frank; for if I stay here allnight, I'll freeze to death, anyway. So just throw the buffaloes over me,and put for the shanty as fast as you can," replied the foreman.
Unable to suggest any better plan, Frank covered Johnston carefully withthe robes, making him as comfortable as he could; then buttoning up hiscoat and pulling his cap on tightly, he was about to scramble up thesteep side of the gully to regain the road, when the foreman said, in alow tone, almost a whisper,--
"This is about the time you generally say your prayers, Frank. Couldn'tyou say them here before you start?"
With quick intuition Frank divined the big bashful man's meaning. It washis roundabout way of asking the boy to commit him to the care of Godbefore leaving him alone in his helplessness.
Feeling half condemned at not having thought of it himself, Frank cameback, and kneeling close beside his friend, lifted up his voice in prayerwith a fervour and simplicity that showed how strong and sure was hisfaith in the love and power of his Father in heaven. When he had finishedhis petition, the foreman added to it an "Amen" that seemed to come fromthe very depths of his heart; and then, yielding to an impulse that wasirresistible, Frank bent down and implanted a sudden kiss upon the paleface looking at him with such earnest, anxious eyes. This unexpectedproof of warm affection completely overcame the foreman, whose feelingshad been already deeply stirred by the prayer. Strong, reserved man as hewas, be could not keep back the tears.
"God bless you, my boy!" he murmured huskily. "If I get safely out ofthis, I shall be a different man. You have taught me a lesson I won'tforget."
"God bless you and take care of you, sir!" answered Frank. "I hopenothing will happen to you while I'm away, and I'll be back as soon as Ican."
The next moment he was making his way up the gully's side, and soon atriumphant shout announced that he had reached the road and was off forthe lumber camp at his best speed.
The task before him was one from which many a grown man might have shrunkin dismay. For five long, lonely miles the road ran through the forestthat darkened it with heavy shadows, and not a living soul could he hopeto meet until he reached the shanty.
It was now past eight o'clock, and to do his best it would take him awhole hour to reach his goal. The snow lay deep upon the road, and wasbut little beaten down by the few sleighs that had passed over it. Theair was keen and crisp with frost, the temperature being many degreesbelow zero. And finally, the most fear-inspiring of all, there was thepossibility of wolves, for the dreaded timber wolf had been both heardand seen in close proximity to the camp of late, an unusual scarcity ofsmall game having made him daring in his search for food.
But Frank possessed a double source of strength. He was valiant bynature, and he had implicit faith in God's overruling providence. He feltspecially under the divine care now, and resolutely putting away allthoughts of personal danger, addressed himself, mind and body, to the onething--the relief of Johnston from his perilous position.
With arms braced at his sides and head bent forward, he set out at ajog-trot, which was better suited for getting through the deep snow thanan ordinary walk. Fortunately he was in the very pink of condition. Thesteady, hard work of the preceding months, combined with the coarse butabundant food and early hours, had developed and strengthened everymuscle in his body and hardened his constitution until few boys of hisage could have been found better fitted to endure a long tramp throughheavy snow than he. Moreover, running had always been his favourite formof athletic exercise, and the muscles it required were well trained fortheir work.
"I'll do it all right inside the hour," he said to himself. And then, asa sudden thought struck him, he gave a nervous little laugh, and added,"And perhaps make a good deal better time if I hear anything of thewolves."
Try as he might, he could not get the wolves out of his head. He had nothimself seen any signs of them, but several times the choppers workingfarthest from the camp had mentioned finding their tracks in the snow,and once they had been heard howling in the distance after the men hadall come into the shanty for the night.
On he went through the snow and night, now making good progress at hisbrisk jog-trot, now going more slowly as he dropped into a walk to resthimself and recover breath. Although the moon rode high in the heavens,the trees which stood close to the road allowed few of her beams to lighthis path.
"If it was only broad daylight I wouldn't mind it a bit," Franksoliloquized; "but this going alone at this time of night is not the sortof a job I care for."
And then the thought of poor Johnston lying helpless but uncomplaining inthe snow made him feel ashamed of his words, and to ease his consciencehe broke into a trot again. Just as he did so a sound reached his earthat sent a thrill of terror to his heart. Hoping he might be mistaken,he stopped and listened with straining senses. For a moment there wasabsolute silence. Then the sound came again--distant, but clear andunmistakable. He had heard it only once before, yet he felt as sure of itnow as if it had been his mother's voice. It was the howl of the timberwolf sounding through the still night air from somewhere to the north;how far away he could not determine.
At the sound all his strength seemed to leave him. How helpless he wasalone in that mighty forest without even so much as a knife wherewith todefend himself! But it would not do to stand irresolute. His own life aswell as the foreman's depended upon his reaching the shanty. Were he toclimb one of the big trees that stood around, the wolves, of course,could not get at him; but Johnston would be dead before daylight came torelease him from his tree citadel, and perhaps he would himself fall avictim to the cold in that exposed situation. There was no otheralternative than to run for his life, so, breathing out a fervent prayerfor divine help and protection, he summoned all his energies to thestruggle. He was more than a mile from the shanty, and his exertion hadtold severely upon his strength; but the great peril of his situationmade him forget his weariness, and he started off as if he were perfectlyfresh.
But the howling of the wolves grew more and more distinct as they drewswiftly nearer, and with agony of heart the poor boy felt his breathcoming short and his limbs beginning to fail beneath him. Nearer andnearer came his dreaded pursuers, and every moment he expected to seethem burst into the road behind him.
Fortunately, be had reached a part of the road which, being near thecamp, was much used by the teams drawing logs to the river-bank, and wasconsequently beaten hard and smooth. This welcome change enabled him toquicken his steps, which had dropped into a walk; and although he feltalmost blind from exhaustion, he pushed desperately forward, hoping atevery turn of the road to catch a glimpse of the shanty showing darkthrough the trees. The cry of the disciples caught in the sudden storm onGalilee, "Lord, save us; we perish!" kept coming to his lips as hestaggered onward. Surely there could not be much further to go! He turnedfor a moment to look behind him. The wolves were in sight, their darkforms showing distinctly against the snow as in silence now they gainedupon their prey. Run as hard as he might, they must be upon him ereanother fifty yards were passed. He felt as if it were all over with him,and so utter was his exhaustion that it seemed to benumb his facultiesand make him half willing for the end to come.
But the end was not to be as the wolves desired. Just at the criticalmoment, when further exertion seemed impossible, he caught sight of someone approaching him rapidly from the direction of the shanty, andshouting aloud while he rushed forward to meet him. With one last supremeeffort he plunged toward this timely apparition, and a moment laterfe
ll insensible at his feet.
It was Baptiste--good-hearted, affectionate Baptiste--who, having awaitedthe travellers' return and grown concerned at their long delay, had goneout to look along the road to see if they were anywhere in view. Catchingsight of Frank's lonely figure, he had made all haste to meet him, andreached him just in time to ward off the wolves that in a minute morewould have been upon him.
When the wolves saw Baptiste, who swung a gleaming axe about his head, ashe shouted, "_Chiens donc!_ I'll split your heads eef I get at you!" theystopped short, and even retreated a little, drawing themselves togetherin a sort of group in the middle of the road, snapping their teeth andsnarling in a half-frightened, half-furious manner. But Baptiste was notto be daunted. Lifting his axe on high, he shouted at them in hischoicest French, and charged upon the pack as though they had been simplya flock of marauding sheep. Wolves are arrant cowards, and withoutpausing to take into consideration the disparity of numbers, for theystood twelve to one, they fled ignominiously before the plucky Frenchman,not halting until they had put fifty yards between themselves and him.Whereupon Baptiste seized upon the opportunity to pick up the stillsenseless Frank, throw him over his broad shoulder, and hasten back tothe shanty before the wolves should regain their self-possession.
They were all asleep in the shanty when the cook returned with hisunconscious burden; but he soon roused the others with his vigorousshouts, and by the time they were fully awake, Frank was awake too, thewarm air of the room quickly reviving him from his faint. Looking roundabout with a bewildered expression, he asked anxiously,--
"Where is Mr. Johnston? Hasn't he come back too?"
Then he recollected himself, and a picture of his good friend lyingprostrate and helpless in the snow, perhaps surrounded by the same wolvesthat brave Baptiste had rescued him from, flashed into his mind, andspringing to his feet he cried,--
"Hurry--hurry! Mr. Johnston is in Deep Gully, and he can't move. Thebridge broke under us, and he was almost killed. Oh, hurry, won't you, orthe wolves will be after him!"
The men looked at one another in astonishment and horror.
"Deep Gully!" they exclaimed. "That's five miles off. We must go atonce."
And immediately all was bustle and excitement as they prepared to go outinto the night. As lumbermen always sleep in their clothes, they did nottake long to dress, and in a wonderfully short space of time theteamsters had a sleigh with a pair of horses at the door, upon whicheight of the men, armed with guns and axes, sprang, and off they wentalong the road as fast as the horses could gallop. Frank wanted toaccompany them, but Baptiste would not allow him.
"No, no, _mon cher._ You must stay wid me. You tired out. They get himall right, and bring him safe home."
And he was fair to lie back, so tortured with anxiety for the foremanthat he could hardly appreciate the blessing of rest, although his ownexertions had been tremendous.
Not sparing the horses, the rescuers sped over the road, ever now andthen discharging a gun, in order to let Johnston know of their approachand keep his courage up. In less than half-an-hour they reached thegully, and peering over the brink, beheld the dark heap in the snow belowthat was the object of their search. One glance was sufficient to showhow timely was their coming, for almost encircling the hapless man weresmaller shapes that even at that distance could be readily recognized.
"We're too late!" cried one of the men; "they're wolves." And with a wildshout he flung himself recklessly down the snowy slope, and othersfollowed close behind.
Before their tumultuous onset the wolves fled like leaves before theautumn wind, and poor Johnston, almost dead with pain, cold, andexhaustion, raising himself a little from the snow, called out in a faintbut joyful tone,--
"Thank God; you've come in time! I thought it was all over with me."