The Shadow Passes

by Roy J. Snell

  CHAPTER VI SMOKEY JOE'S BLUE BEARS

  Johnny awoke with a start. What had wakened him? He could not say forsure. He had a feeling that it had been a human voice, perhaps a shout.

  Propping himself up on one elbow he listened intently. There came nosound save the long-drawn distant howl of a wolf. "Must have dreamed it,"he murmured as he drew deep into the caribou-skin bed.

  The night was cold, bitter cold. It was dark. Like chilled whitediamonds, stars glistened in the sky. "What a change a few hours canmake," he thought. They were sleeping in the mysterious Bill's shelter,he and Lawrence.

  Why were they sleeping in this cheerless shelter? Warm beds awaited themat home. When one is young he does not need too good an answer for thething he does. Both Johnny and Lawrence were born scouts. They loved thesharp tang of cold on their cheeks, followed by the quick glow of acampfire. The smell of wood-smoke, deer steak broiled over coals, dreamyhours just sitting before the fire, not talking, just thinking, all thesewere a joy to them. So they liked to get away for a night. Bill's campwas a convenient place.

  Johnny did not fall asleep at once, instead his mind was crowded withdreamy thoughts.

  Perhaps Bill was a gold prospector. Perhaps he had discovered gold. Thenwhen he returned to this camp, they might all go tramping away to findthe spot and stake out claims.

  "That would ruin the settlement," he told himself. "People would deserttheir dreams of making homes for brighter, more illusive dreams ofwealth. And yet--" What did he wish? He could not tell.

  When they had retired for the night the moon had been shining, a brightfire gleamed before their shelter. Now all was gloomy and cold. Should herekindle the fire? "No. Too chilly," he shuddered. "Wait till morning."

  The days that had gone before had been uneventful ones. More and more hehad come to realize that they must have a tractor. Long hours they hadworked clearing timber. Brush was burned. But wood must be saved forfires, for buildings and fences. Every day saw larger piles of wood onthe cleared land.

  "With a tractor and a stout sled we'd have it hauled home in no time,"Lawrence had said to his father. "Without it--"

  "Wait a little longer," his father had counseled.

  So they were waiting and tonight, sleeping in Bill's shelter, they werestill waiting.

  So Johnny thought and dreamed until at last he fell asleep.

  Perhaps he slept an hour, perhaps less or more. Then he awoke with asuddenness that set his senses reeling.

  "Law-Lawrence!" he shouted in wild consternation. "The bear! The bear!"

  Something solid and heavy as a bear had landed with all but crushingweight on his chest. It still rested there but did not move.

  "That's no bear," said a gruff, good-natured voice. "That's my pack.Sorry! Didn't know you was here."

  "Lawrence!" Johnny exclaimed. "It's Bill!"

  "Not Bill neither," the stranger disagreed. "They call me Smokey Joe."

  "Smokey Joe!" Johnny peered into the darkness, trying to get a look atthe man's face. "Smokey Joe. I've heard of you."

  And he surely had. Smokey was a well-known character in the valley. Theold-timers told how he came and went. Always in search of gold, he woulddisappear for months.

  "Then," one of the motherly women added, "just when we think he's gonefor good, up he pops again. We feed him up and patch his clothes. Then,like some boy, he's off again.

  "But he's no boy," she added. "He came to Alaska in the gold rush of'97."

  "Eighteen-ninety-seven!" Johnny had exclaimed. "More than forty yearsago!"

  "He never left," the gray-haired lady had added. "He came from theCumberland Mountains somewhere and he still speaks in their queer way.

  "They say," she added with a lowered voice, "that he struck it rich once,had nearly half a million dollars, and that he's got some of it hid awayin the hills somewhere. But, then," she sighed, "you can't believeanything you hear and only half you see in Alaska. Alaska is a place ofwild dreams."

  Johnny was recalling all this as he made haste to split dry wood intofine pieces, whittle some shavings, then light a blaze in theirout-of-doors fireplace.

  "It's about morning," he said, at last looking into Smokey Joe's seamedface. "Did you come far?"

  "Been travelin' mighty nigh all night," the old man drawled. "Me and myhounds here." He nodded at three powerful dogs, already curled up on thesnow for a sleep. "Right smart cold up yonder. Hit's a sight better herein the bottoms."

  "We'll have coffee before you know it," Johnny said cheerily. "Coffee andsour-dough flap-jacks."

  "Ah," the old man sucked in his breath. "Sour dough flap-jacks. Theyshore do stick to yer ribs. Reckon Smokey Joe's the flapjack eatinestfeller you almost ever seed."

  Lawrence grinned. This old man spoke a strange language.

  "A bear!" Smokey chuckled. "You all thought I were a bear! That's rightsmart quare."

  "We almost caught a cub," Johnny explained. "Caught him alive, I mean."

  "Almost." Lawrence laughed. "But his mother objected."

  "Bears," said the old man, blinking at the fire. "Back thar in them tharglaciers thar's bears you might nigh wouldn't believe the plain truthabout."

  "Why?" Johnny sat up. "What's strange about them?"

  "Might nigh everythin's quare, I reckon. Hm," the old man sniffed thecoffee, "smells powerful good."

  "It'll be boiled in a minute or two," said Johnny. "But tell me aboutthose bears."

  "They're blue, plumb blue, like a thin sky." The old man struggled forwords. "They're right smart woolly like sheep, I reckon. But they ain'tsheep. God-a-mighty, narry a bit of it. One of them clawed my lead doglike tarnation. An' they're the fish-eatinest critters you most everseed."

  "Polar bears?" Johnny suggested.

  "Polar bears, big as good-sized hounds!" Smokey sniffed. "Who's everhearn tell of sech polar bears?"

  Who indeed? Johnny was growing excited and confused. "Woolly, blue bearsno bigger than dogs," he was thinking. "What kind of bears could theybe?"

  In his confusion he upset the coffeepot and spilled half its contents.For all this, there was plenty left. Smokey Joe drank it piping hot, atein a ravenous manner. Then, springing to his feet and calling to hisdogs, declared he must get down to Palmer for a new pack of grub.

  "He's found a trace of color in some dashing stream that doesn't freeze,not even in winter," was Johnny's conclusion. "He's going to hotfoot itright back and get rich--maybe."

  "But, Johnny," Lawrence was not smiling, "do you really suppose there areany such bears as he described?"

  "Of course not," was Johnny's prompt reply.

  "But, Johnny, if there were, if we caught one alive! No bigger than adog. We could do it, Johnny. We could buy a tractor."

  "Forget it. It's all a pipe dream, I tell you."

  But Lawrence did not forget Smokey Joe's blue bears, nor, in the end, didJohnny.