The Shadow Passes

by Roy J. Snell

  CHAPTER III FAT AND FURIOUS

  Anyone who had watched the two boys skating slowly up the river nextmorning would surely have been puzzled. Before them, now darting up asteep bank and now scurrying along over the snow, were two brown,fur-clad creatures. Neither dogs nor cats, they still appeared quitedomestic in their actions. Once when they had gone racing ahead too farJohnny let out a shrill whistle and they came dashing back to peer upinto his face as if to say, "Did you call me?"

  "They're great!" Lawrence chuckled. "Got a dog beat a mile. They neverbark."

  "And yet they can find where wild creatures live," Johnny agreed.

  Just now, as you no doubt have guessed, the boys were looking for thespot, under some great rock or at the foot of a tree, which the silverfox called his home.

  "We must find him," Johnny had exclaimed only an hour before.

  "We surely must," Lawrence had agreed.

  And indeed they must, for three principal reasons. Last night the foxhad, by shrewd cunning, managed to pry the chicken coop door open andmade off with a rooster. The fox was worth a lot of money--they were sureof this--dead or alive. They must get him before someone with a gun orwith traps got sight of him. And they must take him alive, if possible--avery large contract.

  Their desires had been redoubled by something that had happened only thenight before. Mack Gleason, the settler whose claim joined them on thewest, had been in for a friendly chat.

  "Got your tractor yet?" he had asked of Mr. Lawson.

  "Not yet," had been the reply.

  "Well, you better hurry. They're going fast. May not be another shipmentuntil it is too late for spring's work."

  "No money just now."

  "Money!" Mack exploded. "Who said anything about money? Government gives'em to you on time."

  "But time has a way of rolling around," Mr. Lawson had replied quietly.

  "Oh, the Government wouldn't be hard on you," Mack laughed. "Look at us.We've got a washing machine and a buzz-saw, and a motor to run 'em, atractor, plow, harrow, everything, and all on time."

  "Yes, I know," had come in the same slow, quiet tones. "And I know theGovernment won't be hard on you. Still it will want its money, same asany loaning agency. It just has to be that way.

  "This week," Mr. Lawson went on after a moment, "I received a letter froman old friend of mine. Few years back he secured a government loan on hishome. He didn't keep up the interest and payments. They took it from him.Now he's unhappy about it. But people who borrow must pay. That's whywe're trying not to borrow."

  "And we won't, not if we can help it." Lawrence set his will hard as henow followed those dark brown creatures over the ice.

  "Johnny," he said suddenly. "Do you think father should let us usetraps?"

  "I--I don't know," Johnny replied slowly. "But that, for us, is not thequestion. Ours is, 'Have we a right to urge him to let us use them?'

  "And the answer is, 'No,'" he chuckled. "So we'll have to trust ourlittle old otters to lead the way. When they find Mr. Silver Fox for uswe'll have to grab him."

  "If only one of those trapping fellows doesn't get him first," Lawrencesaid, wrinkling his brow.

  Early in the season, as, with dreamy eyes, the boys wandered over theforty acres of land that was, they hoped, to be their home for years tocome, they had caught the low, whining notes of some small creaturesapparently in distress.

  "It comes from under that rock," Johnny had said.

  "No, over here beneath this dead tree trunk," Lawrence insisted.

  He was right. Having torn away the decayed stump, they had found tworound, brown balls of fur. These balls were baby otters. Taking themhome, they had raised them on a bottle. And now, here they were, payingtheir debt by scouting about in search of the silver fox.

  Pets they were, the grandest in all the world. The happiest moments oftheir young lives were these long hikes. Never once did it seem to occurto them that it might be nice to desert their young masters and answerthe call of the wild.

  Now, as the boys followed them, they went gliding here and there peekinginto every crack and crevice of ice or frozen shore. From time to timethey poked their noses into some hole into which strange tracks hadvanished. After a good sniff they put their heads together and utteredlow whining noises. These noises varied with their opinions on thecondition of each particular hole. At times they appeared to shake theirheads and whine, "Too bad. He was here three hours ago. Now he's gone."

  At other times they put their noses in the air and sang triumphantly,"He's there. He's right in that hole this minute."

  Had the boys been able to train their pets to go in the hole and frightenout the prey, they might have held a moose-hide sack at the entrance toeach hole and added quite rapidly to their collection of living Arcticanimals. This, however, the otters would not do. They were not lookingfor a fight. And indeed, why should they? They did not live uponsquirrels and muskrats, but upon fish. "We'll find 'em, you catch 'em,"seemed to be their motto.

  For the boys, finding the lair of the silver fox would not insure hiscapture. It merely meant that they would know where he lived and wouldwatch that spot in the hope that he might come out on the ice in searchof food or a drink and that then they might come speeding in to grab him.

  "Look!" Lawrence exclaimed suddenly, "there are Old Silver's tracks!"

  "Yes, sir! He just cut in from the hill to the river. He--" SuddenlyJohnny broke off to peer upstream.

  "Something moving up there," he whispered. "Maybe--"

  But the otters had smelled the fox tracks and were off on swift trackingfeet. Johnny bent over to examine those tracks.

  "It's the old fellow or his brother," he murmured. "No other fox aroundhere has such large feet. Boy! He's a humdinger!"

  Once more his keen eyes swept the upper reaches of the river. "Huh!" hegrunted. "Whatever that was, it's vanished now."

  "Might as well follow the otters," Lawrence suggested.

  They did follow. Soft-footed in silence they tracked on for a mile. Upbanks and down again, over a ridge, back to the river. "Look at thosefeathers!" Lawrence whispered.

  "Got a ptarmigan," said Johnny. "After that he should have made a beeline for his lair."

  That was just what the fox had done. Straight as an arrow he had returnedto the stream, then he had sped away along its course until he came to ahuge gray rock. There the trail ended. And beneath this rock, accordingto the verdict of the two singing otters, he must still lie fast asleep.

  "Good old otters!" Lawrence exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.

  "They've found us his hiding place," Johnny agreed. "And will we watchit? We--"

  Suddenly he broke off short to point excitedly upstream.

  "A bear cub!" Lawrence exclaimed low. "He's going to cross the river."

  "We--we'll get on our sk-ates," said Johnny excitedly. "Then let's takehim."

  "Can we?" Lawrence was doubtful.

  "Sure! We'll lasso him and tie him up. He'll make a grand addition to ourzoo. Come on!"

  Swinging out on the shining ice, skating silently from the hips, the boysglided like two dark ghosts toward the unsuspecting bear cub who, at thatmoment, had started to cross a broad stretch of slippery ice. Sly silenceis, however, a game that two can play at. This the boys were to learnvery soon and to their sorrow.

  One day the boys had come, quite unexpectedly, upon a half-grown whitecaribou, or perhaps it had been a reindeer, that had wandered down fromsome far northern herd. However that might have been, they were filledwith regret at the thought that they were not equipped for capturing itfor their "zoo." From that time on they had carried lariats and, by wayof some added safety, short, stout spears. They were thus equipped todayas they sped swiftly, silently toward the bear cub.

  "I'll toss the lasso over his head, then you watch the fun," Johnnychuckled.

  "I'll watch all right," Lawrence agreed. And he did.

  Slowly, clumsily, the youn
g bear, no larger than a good-sized dog, madehis way across the ice. The wind was away from him. He could not smellthe intruders, nor was he aware of their presence until, with a suddenrush, Johnny was upon him.

  Never will the boy forget the look of surprise that came over the youngbear's comical face as he stared straight into his eyes. The whole affairwas easy, too easy. He passed so close to the cub that he might havetouched him. He did not. Instead, he dropped his noose over his head,pulled it tight, then, letting out slack, whirled about to face the cub.What would the cub do about that? He was to know instantly. Throwinghimself back on his haunches, the cub began backing and pulling like abalky horse. On his skates, Johnny was no match for him. All he could dowas to come along. To his further annoyance, he found that his lariat hadwhirled about his wrist and tied itself into a knot. As long as the cubkept the line tight he could not untie the knot. He did not quite relishthe idea of dashing up to the cub and saying, "By your leave, I'll untiethis knot." So, for the moment, he played into the cub's hand.

  Then the unexpected happened. With a grunt and a snarl of rage, a hugeblack bear, the cub's mother beyond a possible doubt, dashed over a ridgeto come charging straight at Johnny and the cub.

  "Hey! Hey! Look out!" Lawrence shouted. "Drop your rope and beat it."

  "I--I can't," Johnny cried in sudden consternation. "He--he's got metied."

  "Tied!" Lawrence gasped.

  "It's 'round my wrist." Johnny watched wide-eyed while the huge motherbear came tobogganing down the high, steep river bank. She hit the icelike a bobsled and, dropping on hind legs and tail, came sliding straighton.

  Just in time, Johnny came to his senses and began doing a back-stroke.Only by inches did he miss the husky swing of the angry bear's paw.

  "Cut the rope," Lawrence shouted.

  "Al-all right, I'll--I'll cut it." Johnny dug into a pocket with his freehand. A pocket knife. It must be opened. With one eye on the cub, who forthe moment sat whining, and the other upon the mother bear, who wasscrambling awkwardly to her feet, he had no eyes left for his knife. Justas, having gripped the handle with one hand, the blade with the other, hemanaged to open the knife, the cub, going into frenzied action, gave hima sudden jerk that sent the knife spinning far out on the ice.

  "It's gone," he groaned.

  No more time for this. Old mother bear was after him. Fortunately thisold bear was heavy with fat. She had been preparing for a winter's sleep.Still she could travel and she was fat and furious. Her skill as a skaterwas something to marvel at.

  Since he could not escape from the rope, the only thing for Johnny to dowas circle. Circle he did. One time around with the bear at his heels;two times around he had gained a little; three times around he caught thegleam of his knife. Could he stoop and pick it up? He bent over, made areach for it, struck a crack with his skate and all but fell.

  "I--I'll get it next time," he breathed.

  To his surprise he found that next time the knife was well out of hisreach. Then to his utter horror, he saw that the perverse cub wasstanding still, making an animated Maypole out of himself and that itwould be no time at all until the rope would be all wound around him.They would meet face to face, cub, mother bear and boy. And after that?He shuddered as he sped along that ever-narrowing circle.

  "I'm coming in," Lawrence shouted.

  "No, you--"

  Johnny could say no more. Lawrence was already in. Skating straight atthe bear to attract her attention, Lawrence shot past her and slapped hersharply on the nose.

  It was a daring and effective endeavor. Turning with a snarl, completelyabandoning her cub at this fancied insult, the bear went after him with arush.

  That was all right as far as it went. The skating was good. The bear wasfast, but not fast enough to catch him. There is, however, an end to allthings. There was an end to that stretch of ice. It ended in a series ofrapids that were not frozen over.

  Lawrence groaned as he saw open water ahead. To his added terror, he sawthat the river narrowed at that point. That the bear could outrun him onland he knew all too well.

  "Got to be an artful dodger," he told himself.

  At that moment how he rejoiced that he had trained himself as a hockeyskater. Swinging about in a half circle, he sped toward the right-handbank. But the bear was there ahead of him.

  Just as she reared up for a sledge-hammer blow, the boy whirled squarelyabout and shot away to left. Again he was too late for a safe passage,but not so much too late. He was gaining. Three more times, then with ajoyous intake of breath he shot past the bear and was away.

  In the meantime, Johnny, safe for the moment from the mother bear, hadhastily unwound the surprised cub, then had rushed him with such speedthat the rope was off his neck before he could lift a paw. The cub wasfree. So was Johnny. And there were no regrets.

  "Johnny," said Lawrence as he joined his companion five minutes later, "Idon't think we want any bears in our zoo. They're too playful." They wereto change their minds about this, but that was to come sometime later.

  "That," said Johnny with a chuckle, "was almost funny."

  "Yes," Lawrence agreed, "almost." He did not laugh. "Almost, but notquite."

  A moment later he exclaimed, "Johnny! Where are the otters? We can't losethem."

  "They'll probably hunt us up. They--" Johnny broke off short. "Look!" hemurmured low. "Look! There's the silver fox. He's out of his hole.He--he's going to cross the ice."

  Lawrence glanced back to the spot where the bears had been. They hadvanished. "This time," he whispered, "we'll get that old silver fox. Wesimply must."