CHAPTER V
LOST IN THE FOREST
Morning came, but it brought no news of the absent men. There now seemedto be no possible doubt that some accident of a serious nature hadovertaken both, and the boys were at their wits' end to know what stepsto take.
There had been but one canoe for the outing, so it was not possible tofollow up the river course in pursuit of explanation. The only coursewas to take the journey on foot. That would be a tedious process, seeingthat the river twined in some parts like a corkscrew. Two or three milesmight be walked, and yet only half the distance might be covered as thecrow flies. However, there seemed nothing else to be done. It wasimpossible to remain idly at the camp waiting for what might turn up.Meantime, their services might be urgently needed, and delay might onlyincrease the necessity.
"I vote we pack up our outfit in the tents and set off on the chance offinding their tracks," said Bob. "We can take a good supply ofcartridges with us, in case we are delayed and need to forage for food."
"It's my opinion that we may have to go a good long way," was Holden'sview. "It would be as well to take a small axe and one or two things forpossible camping. A pannikin would be useful----"
"And a small coil of rope. You can never go far in the bush withoutfinding a use for rope."
"But suppose they come back in our absence?"
"Ah, that's well thought of," Arnold agreed. "It might mean starting outto hunt for us. We'll leave a note explaining things."
As soon as breakfast was over, the boys made their preparations fordeparture. They filled knapsacks with such supplies as they deemednecessary to meet the circumstances and possible emergencies. Theypacked away the loose articles of the camp outfit, and pinned a noteagainst the flap of the tent to explain the cause of their absence toany person who might reach the ground before their return. Then they setout bravely on their quest.
It was their first intention to follow the course of the river, eventhough their journey might be considerably lengthened thereby. But verysoon it was found that such tactics were, in the main, impracticable. Insome parts the banks were steep and rocky; in others they were sothickly clothed with bush that a pathway was only possible after the axehad cut its way. The latter was particularly the case when a certaingreat bend of the Athabasca was reached, so the chums determined toattempt a short cut across the loop by plunging straight through theforest.
"It seems easy enough," Alf had said. "We are going about due north, Ithink. The bend goes due west, but as the main part of the river flowsnorth according to the map, if we go straight on we are bound to strikethe water again."
"Right, old man," responded Bob. "In any case, the paters could not beso near home, or they would have had plenty of time to get back, even bycrawling. So it would be almost wasting energy to trudge so far out ofthe way."
It is one thing to say "go north," it is quite another matter to hold asteady course in a forest. The Indian can do it; likewise the trapper.They know the signs of the compass such as Nature has provided forthem. They know on which side of the trees certain moss is to be found,and they know the signs that the blizzard wind leaves behind it when ithas passed on its way from arctic zones. To such as have been initiatedinto the higher mysteries of woodcraft from their earliest years, a duecourse to any set point of the compass is second nature. But those whoare unlearned in the art soon find out their mistake when they put theirinexperience into practice. The sun is a pointing finger to thecraftsman--a disastrous lure to the ignorant.
Bob and Alf pursued their way pluckily. Determined to keep a steadycourse, the tomahawk had to be requisitioned at frequent intervals inorder to clear a passage through the thorns and binding creepers thatimpeded the way.
At any other time the adventure would have been one of sheer delight,for who would not have enjoyed exploring unknown land--probably land,too, where only the Indian's foot and the feet of the wild creatures ofthe forest had ever pressed?
Once or twice the boys saw the great velvet eyes of an antelope peepingat them through a screen of maple leaves. Again the scrub would rustle,as a fox crouched down to hide his skulking body from the strangers'sight. The cat-birds were calling their sad messages to each other amongthe maple leaves, and lively little chipmunks would utter their shrillpiping sounds of warning to their friends as they started before theadvance of the young explorers. Yes, it was an experience to fill theheart with joy when any ordinary call inspired the venture spirit.
On this occasion, however, neither of the boys had eyes for suchpleasant sights, or ears for such sounds as are the delight of thetrapper's life. Their minds were too full of anxiety to permit room forordinary enjoyment, and they hardly spoke as they pressed forward insingle file.
In this way they continued for two hours or more. At intervals theywould take it in turn to act as leader and handle the axe; but they didnot allow a pause in the pushing forward, until at last Bob called ahalt, feeling that a rest had been earned.
"We ought to be getting near the river again by this time," he remarked.
"That's what I've been thinking," said Alf. "You see, it was such asharp westward turn that the river took after we crossed the ford, thatI don't think we can be far off now. It must come round to the eastagain."
"Yet there's no sound of it----"
"That is what's puzzling me. We've covered a couple of miles at theleast."
"And done enough work for four," added Bob. "However, let's get to workagain. The sooner there, the sooner this job will be over."
"Thank goodness it looks pretty clear ahead now--more pine trees andless of the beastly scrub," said Holden.
Once more the boys pressed forward; but, although they continued themarch for quite another hour, apparently they were as far off as everfrom the river, for they neither sighted water nor came within hearingdistance of the object of their search.
Again they stopped and faced one another with perplexed expressions.
"I'll tell you what it is, old man--we've missed the way," said Alf.
But Bob was never ready to admit defeat of any sort.
"Nonsense," he said. "We've kept a fairly straight course."
"Or thought we have. To my mind, if we'd kept straight on we ought tohave reached the river by this time. As it is, there is no sign of it."
"That's true. Except for being free from the brushwood, we might almostbe where we started. It looks much the same--no slope or any other signto suggest that we are nearer to the water."
"What's to be done?"
"I see nothing for it but to go back again and follow the river, as wewere doing in the first place. We were fools to think of taking shortcuts. The other way may have seemed longer, but it would have been adeal shorter in the long-run."
Both the boys were feeling rather fagged by this time, for their trudgehad been of an exceptionally fatiguing nature. But each kept the thoughtto himself, and cheerfully stepped out with the intention of retracinghis steps. It was a disappointment and irksome enough; yet there was nohelp for it, and the situation had to be faced pluckily.
But all the best intentions seemed to go wrong that day, and it did nottake an hour's marching before Bob stopped and turned to his chum with acrestfallen countenance.
"Look here, old man, I don't know what you're thinking, but my ownopinion is----"
"That we've missed the path; that we are lost----"
"I'm afraid that is the truth of it. You see, we've never come to any ofthe places that we had to clear with the tomahawk."
"Then what's to be done?" Alf questioned.
Arnold took out his watch and looked at it.
"What's to be done? Grub. That's the first thing. After that we can makefresh plans. It's noon now, and we can do nothing while we're hungry.Besides--well, to tell the truth, I'm feeling a little tired."
"I, too," responded Alf, with a faint smile. "I didn't want to say sowhile I thought you wished to go on----"
"Just my own idea," Bob returned, with a slight lau
gh, as he loweredhimself to a soft place under the shadow of a large maple. "So we'llrest here and have a bite. We'll feel better afterwards."
The little camp was made, and a meal was enjoyed from the contents ofBob's haversack--biscuits and cold venison. Neither of the lads thoughtit was worth while to trouble about shooting and cooking a meal justthen. They would reserve that till night, in the event of their notbeing able to find Crane Creek again.
After a considerable rest, the march was resumed for the third time. Onthis occasion, however, the process was varied. Their first purpose was,of course, to find the path by which they had come; so at Bob'ssuggestion they carefully proceeded to walk in a circle--checking theroute by notching the trees, and taking wider courses each time acircuit was completed.
But even these means were ineffective. Circle after circle was made, andstill the earlier track was undiscovered. All the afternoon was thusoccupied, and, when evening came, the boys were footsore and weary--gladto throw themselves down on the first piece of springy grass, too tiredeven to trouble about preparing food.
The disappointment was beyond words. They had started out in the morningfull of cheerful hopes of being able to render aid to their parents who(they felt sure) were in need of assistance. And now, not only was thispurpose frustrated, but they themselves were in that terrible plight ofbeing lost in the backwoods--a hundred miles or more from the haunts ofwhite men, with nothing but plucky hearts to help them, and limitedammunition to supply bodily needs.
The sun passed over their heads and sunk somewhere beyond the forest.They could not tell where it vanished, for the camp was amid such densesurroundings that they could hardly see beyond a hundred yards throughthe branches.
With dusk, and after a sparse meal, it was decided to light a fire, morefor the sake of the cheering sight than the need for warmth.
Bob was the first to rise, and as he stood upright he was heard to givevent to a decided--
"Bother it!"
"What's the matter?" grunted Alf, as he also proceeded to rise.
"Matter?" repeated his chum. "Nothing; only I have stuck my head into acloud of moths--big ones and little ones. There seems to be a regularparty going on under this tree."
"It's that luminous patch in the tree that we've been sitting under,"said Holden, at the same time drawing his friend's attention to whatlooked like a patch of light on the trunk of the maple about five feetfrom the ground.
"That's curious," remarked Bob, bending forward to examine the spot. "Iwonder what it can be? It looks like the light on one of those luminousmatch-boxes that are made so that you can see them in the dark."
"They say that rotten wood sometimes has that effect----"
"But this tree is quite sound. And see! There's another the same on thattree to the right!"
It was certainly strange, and the boys picked up their guns andsauntered over to examine the next trunk, on which they found the samepeculiar light attracting an equally numerous lot of moths of manydescriptions.
"There's another!" exclaimed Alf, pointing ahead of him.
"And another!"
"And another!"
By this time the boys were quite excited by their discovery, and whenAlf suddenly drew attention to the further discovery that the markedtrees were almost in a straight line, their excitement was still furtherstirred.
"It's the strangest thing I ever heard of--in the natural history way,"the younger lad said. "To find all these trees marked on the same side,and all in a straight line--why, it would puzzle the brains of anybodyto explain it!"
Without any decided plan, and more out of curiosity than from any othermotive, the chums proceeded from one tree to another, examining each asthey reached it, and marvelling all the time at what they decided asbeing one of the most remarkable freaks of Nature that they had everheard about.
Then they became aware of a strange sound that reached them from nogreat distance through the trees. It was a most remarkable sound--notthat of any animal with which they were familiar; indeed, it was not asound that suggested any beast or bird.
"What on earth is it?" questioned Alf, as the weird wail sighed throughthe forest.
"It sounds like a harmonium in distress!" replied Bob, with a slightlaugh. And even as he spoke the wail was repeated, though this timecould be distinctly heard the voice of some person struggling toarticulate to some musical accompaniment the words--
"Rool Britanny! Britanny rool waves! Britons ne-vaire--ne-vaire--ne-vaire Shall be sla-aves!"
The Fiery Totem Page 5