Saying this, Aleck took two of the largest pieces of wood from Jim's sled, and laid them down a little way apart. Then he laid across them a platform of the next largest sticks, and on top of this arranged his kindling, ready to touch a match to.
"We won't set the fire going till we are quite ready for it, and—"
"But I'm cold," Jim complained.
"Well, Youngster, I've heard that the Indians never let their boys come near the lodge fire to get warm, but bid them run till they work the chill off. You'd better move livelier if you want to get warm, for we can't afford any more fire than is necessary for a short bit of cooking. Katy, what do you propose to have?"
"I thought I would make tea, boil potatoes, and bake some johnny-cake in my skillet. May I?"
"Oh, yes, but you must economize fuel."
With this warning, Aleck struck a match, and the little fire was soon blazing merrily in the "wooden stove," as Katy called it. Only one or two sticks had been burned clear through before the fire had done its work, and was put out in order to save every splinter of wood possible. They sat down in the shelter of the boat to eat their dinner, and enjoyed it very much, in spite of the cold, their loneliness, and the gathering darkness.
Meanwhile the tent had been set up. Over its icy floor were laid the thwarts taken out of the boat, the rudder, and two box covers, which nearly covered the whole space. On top of this was placed as much straw as could be spared, and upon the straw Aleck and Tug spread their blankets.
Dinner out of the way, the after-part of the boat was cleared out and re-arranged, until a level space was left. Here, upon a heap of straw, beds for the younger ones were arranged. Then the spare canvas was spread across like an awning, and was held up on an oar laid lengthwise. This made a snug cabin for Katy and the wearied Jim, who were not long in creeping into it. Rex followed, and slept in the straw at their feet, which was good for them all.
"THE LITTLE FIRE WAS SOON BLAZING MERRILY."
With the coming of darkness came also a damp sort of cold, that caused them to huddle close in their blankets; and though they presently fell asleep, it was with a shivering sense of discomfort that spoiled the refreshment.
Midnight passed, and Aleck, only half awake, was trying to tuck his blankets closer about him without disturbing his bedfellow, when the tent was suddenly struck by some large object, and considerably shaken. Alarmed and puzzled at the same time, Aleck paused to listen an instant before rising, when the shrieks and barking of the sleepers in the boat came to his ears. He sprang out of his blankets only in time to see two shadowy objects rise from the camp, and drift away across the face of the moon, which was just rising.
"Wh-what w-was that?" came from two scared figures sitting bolt-upright in the yawl, their tongues stuttering with terror and cold combined.
"I don't know." Aleck was as bewildered, if not quite as much frightened, as they.
"Humph!" cried Tug's voice, behind; "you're a pretty set to be scared out of your wits and wake everybody up on account of two birds. They're nothing but snow-owls. Go to bed, or we'll all freeze."
"Wh-wh-what are they?" asked Jim, his teeth playing castanets in spite of all his efforts to control them.
"Tell you in the morning," was the reply. "Go to bed. Come in, Cap'n. Owls are nothing. Come to bed."
This seemed good advice, however gruffly given; but you can hardly expect a person to mince his phrases at two o'clock of a winter's morning, on an ice-floe. Aleck was ready to comply, but he was too cold.
"I must get warm first, and so must you, Jim." Katy had wisely disappeared some time before, and said she was pretty comfortable. "Come and run with me till we get our blood stirring."
Neither of the boys had dared undress at all, so it only remained for Jim to creep out from under the canvas, and limp stiffly to his brother's side. Then hand in hand they raced up and down the ice half a dozen times in the pale greenish moonlight. Once or twice they disturbed an owl perched on the ice, or heard wild hooting—a sound so hollow and unearthly that they could not tell whether it came from near by or far off.
This strange voice and the gray, silent half-light on the wide waste gave them a very lonely and dismal feeling, and when they had put themselves into a glow by exercise, they were very glad to creep back into their beds.
* * *
Chapter X.
AN UGLY FERRIAGE.
The sun had been up an hour when Aleck woke again, and pulled Tug's ear, at which that young gentleman sat up and was going to fight somebody right away. But Aleck pounced on him, and pinned him down before he could stir or strike.
"No time for fooling," he laughed in his chum's face; "but if there were I'd like to take you out to the creek here and duck you for your disrespect to your superior officer. Will you touch your cap if I let you up?"
"Ye-e-s," Tug replied, as he felt the strength of the Captain's grip; "but I'm not sure about your duckin' me!"
"Nor I," laughed Aleck, and he leaped away, to go and wake up the others by kicking on the side of the boat.
The morning was beautiful, and by the time breakfast was ready the tent had been struck, and the big boys had come back from an exploration to say that they could go almost to the brink of the open water.
"It must be a 'lead,'" exclaimed Katy. "That's the name arctic travellers give to a wide crack in the ice, by taking advantage of which, whenever it leads in the right direction, vessels are able to make their way through the 'packs' and 'fields.'"
"Probably their leading vessels through is where they get the name," Aleck remarked.
"Shouldn't wonder," said Tug; "but however well that plan may work in the arctic regions, we must cross this one."
Getting everything ready at the brink of the canal occupied fifteen minutes. Then, all the cargo easy to be moved having been taken out, the boat (sledge and all, as an experiment for this short trip) was launched without mishap. The sledge bobs hanging on her bottom weighted her down, and canted her so much, though the water was perfectly smooth, that it was necessary to make the trip very carefully. The young voyagers were thus taught that for any real navigation the boat must always be removed from the sledge. By noon, however, the last ferriage was successfully made, and they had repacked and were ready to go on again as soon as they had eaten a "bite." While despatching this, Katy suddenly exclaimed:
"Oh, I have never once thought about our visitors last night. I'll confess I was dreadfully frightened. How did you know they were owls?"
"Saw 'em," Tug replied, shortly, with his mouth full of dried beef. "Couldn't be anything else this time o' year."
"Where do they come from?"
"From 'way up north. Don't your arctic book say anything about 'em? Maybe it calls 'em the 'great white' or 'snowy' or 'Eskimo' owls."
"I think I remember something about them. The Eskimos have a superstitious fear of them, haven't they?"
"Yes, and lots of other people, for that matter. Why, only last winter one of 'em lit on the roof of a house out in the country where I was staying, and the old woman there began to rock back and forth, and whine out that some dreadful bad luck was coming. But that's all nonsense."
"I guess its cry has given it a witch-like reputation," said Aleck. "It sounded uncanny enough last night; didn't it, Jim? But what were they doing away out here?"
"Oh, I s'pose they were flying 'cross the lake, and had stopped to rest on our tent-ridge, till we startled them. I bet they were worse scared than you were. You see, their proper home is in the arctic regions. That's where they build their nests, putting them in trees and in holes in rocks. But when winter comes up there, and the snow gets so deep and the cold so severe that all the small animals he feeds on have retired to their holes or else left the country, Mr. Owl has to get up and flit too, or he will starve to death. So he works his way down here. They say these great white owls—why, they're bigger than the biggest cat-owl you ever saw—never go far south of this, and I know that we don't see many of 'em except when we have a very s
evere winter. But I've talked enough. Let's get out of this."
The sunshine by this time was interrupted by dark clouds that rose in the west, and puffs of damp, chilly air began to be felt by the skaters, who wrapped themselves a little closer in their overcoats as they measured their steady strokes. Still no land came in sight, but they thought this must be owing mainly to the thick air to the southward. Once they thought they saw it, but the dark line on the horizon proved to be a hummock, not so bad as the one lately passed, but still troublesome, and closely followed by a second. The lifting and tugging tired them all greatly, and after the second barrier had been climbed they found themselves on ice which was incrusted with frozen snow, and exceedingly unpleasant to skate upon. But a few rods farther on there appeared a narrow stream of open water, beyond which the ice looked hard and green.
"Let us cross, and camp on the other side," said Tug.
"Yes," Aleck answered, in a troubled voice. "Do you see that snow storm coming, over there? It'll be down upon us in a jiffy, and there's no telling what next. Yes, let's cross before it gets dark, if we can. There's a hummock over there that will shelter us a bit from the wind, I think."
The anxious tone of his voice alarmed his companions, and all set at work with a will. Yet the snow-flakes had come, and were thick about them, before the second ferriage had been made, and the wet and ice-clogged boat was lifted out of the water.
Nobody said as much, but it is safe to believe that each of our four friends thought, to himself, that if every day's work in advance was to be like this one, they had undertaken a prodigiously difficult and dangerous experiment in this skating expedition; and perhaps each one wondered whether the winter would be long enough to carry them to their destination at this rate of progress, even should they be able to surmount the fast-recurring obstacles in safety.
* * *
Chapter XI.
CAMPING AGAINST AN ICE WALL.
"Now what?" asked Tug, holding his head very high to prevent the snow going down the back of his neck. "Now what?"
"Now," Aleck answered, in a tone of command, "get the boat up there under the lee of that hummock. Everybody take hold."
The ropes were seized with a will, but the heavy boat could not be dragged in the snow until it had been lightened; then by great exertion it was taken over the fifty yards that lay between the water and the hummock. At that spot the ice had been thrust up like a smooth wall about fifteen feet high, which overhung slightly, so as to form a cosey shelter from the storm. The bow of the boat was swung close against its foot, while the stern was slanted away until there remained a space of about eight feet between it and the smooth face of the hummock at that end. Tug and Jim went back after the sled and what baggage had been left behind at the "lead," while Aleck and Katy began to contrive a shelter.
To manage this they cleared out the movable things in the boat, arranging all the cargo (except the mess chest), as fast as it was removed, in the shape of a wall extending across from the stern of the boat to the hummock. In this way, with the help of thwarts, two oars, and some blocks of ice, a rough wall was raised, about four feet high, enclosing a three-cornered space eight feet in width, having the hummock and starboard side of the boat for its sides, and the cargo wall (through which a hole had been left as a doorway) for its end or "base."
Next, a roof must be contrived. The mast and two oars were set in a leaning position from the outer gunwale of the boat, where they rested firmly upon the thwart-cleats, up against the hummock, to which they were securely wedged.
It had now become dark, and Katy lighted the lantern. Tug and Jim, covered with snow, brought their last sled-load and added it to the wall, throwing all their little stock of firewood, which amounted to about three bushels, into the hut. Then all hands set to work in the wind, which blew in sharp gusts now and then over the crest of the hummock, to stretch the sails upon the rafters formed by the mast and oars and thus form an awning-roof.
The handling of the heavy mainsail proved an extremely difficult matter. Once it blew quite away from their grasp, and went off in the darkness, but Jim and the dog gave chase, and soon caught it, Rex grabbing it with his teeth, and so holding on to it till the others came to the rescue. At the next attempt they succeeded in fastening one end, after which the task grew easier.
The mainsail fairly in place, the jib was next hoisted across the end, and here its leg-of-mutton shape was a great advantage, for when the broad lower part was hung against the hummock wall the narrowing peak just fitted between the sloping roof and the top of the wall.
When the two sails had been fastened, the party found themselves covered rudely but pretty tightly, and the spare canvas remained to serve as a carpet, which was greatly needed. Plenty of snow and cold were "lying round loose" yet, but to be inside was far better than to be out of doors. That this safety and warmth were possible to their frail structure was owing, of course, to the fact that it stood under the lee of the tall ice wall, which acted as a shield against the force of the gale.
"Really, the wind does us more good than harm now," Aleck remarked, "for it drifts the snow under the boatsledge and against the wall, and, if it keeps on, will soon stop up all the holes, and leave us boxed into a tighter house than our old snow-chinked cabin back at the river."
"Mebbe it'll bury us," said Jim, in an awful whisper.
"Guess not. Anyhow, we can have a fire first—there are holes enough left yet to let the smoke out. Tug, just shovel the drifted snow out of the house, or pack it between the bobs under the boat, while I whittle some kindling. There won't any more blow in—the drift's too high now."
CAMPING AGAINST AN ICE WALL.
"Shall I boil tea or coffee?" asked Katy.
"Coffee, I guess; and give us some fried bacon and crackers—but lots of coffee."
"Why couldn't we use our oil stove now?"
"We don't really need to. We have some wood, and can build a fire well enough inside here, and the oil is easier carried than the wood for a greater need. Ready, Tug?"
"Ay, ay, sir."
"All right. Here are our kindlings. Katy, open your lantern, and let me set these shavings afire. Matches are too precious to be wasted or even risked."
A minute later a brisk little fire was burning, snow was turning to water, and cold water to hot, while coffee was thinking that presently it would be in the pot, and slices of bacon were saying good-bye to their fellows, as one by one they dropped into the frying-pan.
It was a strange scene, but the actors in it were too tired and hungry to notice how they looked, as they watched with eager interest the progress of supper-getting. They were not cold, and wraps were all thrown aside, for the wind was cut off, and the fire, small as it was, made a great deal of heat in the confined space. The atmosphere of an Eskimo house of ice, though there may be no better fire than a little pool of train-oil in a soapstone saucer, where a wick of moss is smoking and flaring, will become so warm that the people remove not only their furs, but a large part of their under-clothing, and this when the temperature outside is fifty degrees or so below freezing-point.
"It is just about big enough for a play-house," Katy remarked, as she jostled one and another in moving about.
"I'm glad the snow blows over, and doesn't settle on the roof. If it did, I'm afraid the canvas would sag down awfully, or the oars break."
"How will we sleep to-night?" asked Jim.
"Well," said Aleck, "I think we must all sleep in the boat somehow. Katy and you can lie on the straw in the stern-sheets, as usual, and Tug and I will bunk in somewhere for'ard. If we had plenty of wood to keep the fire going, it would be comfortable out here, but we must economize. If this snow keeps on, I don't know when—"
"Supper!" called Katy, and Aleck didn't finish what he was saying; but they all felt a little more serious about their situation. Though Jim objected, Aleck ordered him to put out every bit of the fire, and perched up in the boat they ate their supper by the light of the lantern.
"It's precious lucky we found this straw in the cabin," said Tug, as he sat upon it, with a tin cup of coffee in one hand, and in the other a sandwich made of two pieces of cold johnny-cake and a slice of bacon.
"That's cool! The luck is that Kate had the good sense to make us bring it. I know two young fellows who objected."
"I know three," Katy spoke up. "Fair play. You sneered at me at first, Mr. Captain, as much as anybody. You needn't play goody-goody over the rest of them."
"Go in, Katy!" they both cried. "Give it to him! He was going to leave every bit behind—and the rushes too."
"Well, well," pleaded Aleck, "I know now it was a good idea, and I'm not always so—"
"—big a fool as you look, eh?" exclaimed Tug, giving them all a laugh at the face made by the tall fellow, who was thus cheated out of his smooth apology.
"Never you mind; I'll get even with you before long."
Then the Captain took out his watch and wound it. Holding it in his hand he said: "Now it's my turn. I'll give you merry jesters just four minutes to finish your supper and make your beds. Then I blow out the lantern. Oil is precious."
* * *
Chapter XII.
SNOWED UNDER.
There was a roguish twinkle in the Captain's eye, as though oil was not so precious but that they might have burned a few more drops of it; but an order was an order, and everybody was quite ready for darkness when it came, except Tug.
Then, how pitchy it was, and how the wind sung and whizzed over their rough-edged shield of ice, now and then catching the border of the ill-stayed tent and giving it a furious flap, as though about to throw it over! But weariness and warmth—for often snowy nights are not so cold as clear ones—closed ears as well as eyes, and when they awoke it was gray light in the tent, and half-past seven o'clock in the morning.
The Ice Queen Page 5