Left on the Labrador

D >> Dillon Wallace >> Left on the Labrador

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Once on a Saturday the whole family paid a visit to Skipper Tom Ham and
his wife at Lucky Bight, spending a Sunday with them. The journey on the
komatik was a great treat for both Mrs. Twig and Violet, and this visit
supplied food for pleasant conversation during the remainder of the
winter.

One day in January Aaron Slade and his wife, neighbours who lived at
Long Run, some forty miles away and to the southward of Pinch-In
Tickle, drove into Double Up Cove with dogs and komatik, and spent two
whole days with the Twigs. And then, the following week, came David
Dyson and his son Joseph, and to all the visitors Toby, with vast pride,
exhibited his wonderful silver fox pelt.

"'Tis a fine silver!" exclaimed Aaron, holding it up and shaking out its
glossy fur that he might admire its sheen. "'Tis the finest silver ever
caught in these parts! You'll be gettin' a fine price for he, Toby."

And so said David Dyson and Joseph, and David, with a wise shake of his
head, added:

"Don't be lettin' the traders have un, now, for what they offers first.
Make un pay the worth of he."

With these excursions of their own, and the pleasant visits from their
neighbours, and with always enough to do, time slipped away quickly, and
the middle of March came with its rapidly lengthening days.

"In another month, whatever, Dad'll be comin' home," said Toby one
morning when they were at breakfast. "We'll go for he with the dogs and
komatik. And then 'twill soon be time for the sealin' and fishin'
again."

"'Twill be nice to have fresh fish again," suggested Mrs. Twig. "We're
not havin' any but salt fish the whole winter. I'm thinkin' 'twould be
fine for you lads to catch some trout. I'm wonderful hungry for trout."

"I can be helpin' too," Violet broke in delightedly.

"'Twill be fine, now," agreed Toby enthusiastically. "We'll catch un
to-day."

"How can you catch trout with everything frozen as tight as a drumhead?"
asked Charley.

"I'll be showin' you when we gets through breakfast," Toby assured. "We
always gets un in winter when we gets hungry for un."

"I'm hungry for trout too," laughed Charley, adding skeptically, "but
you'll have to show me, and I'll have to see them before I'll believe we
can get them with forty below zero."

"I'll be showin' you," Toby promised.

From a box he selected some heavy fishing line and three hooks. On the
shank of the hooks, and just below the eye, was a cone shaped lead
weight, moulded upon the shank. Each line was then attached to the end
of a short, stiff stick about three feet in length, which he obtained
from the woodpile outside. Then the hooks were attached to the lines,
and cutting some pieces of pork rind, Toby announced that the "gear" was
ready.

Violet had her things on, and armed with the equipment, the three set
out expectantly for the ice, Toby picking up an ax to take with them as
he passed through the wood porch.

"Here's where we fishes," said Toby, leading the way to a wide crack in
the ice a few feet from shore and following the shore line, caused by
the rising and falling of tide.

The crack at the point indicated by Toby was eighteen inches wide. With
the ax he cut three holes at intervals of a few feet through a coating
of three or four inches of young, or new ice, which had formed upon the
ice in the crack. Then, baiting the hooks with pork rind, he gave one of
the sticks with line and baited hook to Charley and one to Violet.

"The way you fishes now," he explained to Charley, "you just drops the
hook into the water in a hole, and holdin' the stick keeps un movin' up
and down kind of slow. When you feels somethin' heavy on the hook heave
un out."

"Don't the trout fight after you hook them?" asked Charley. "I always
heard they fought to get away, and you had to play them and tire them
out before you landed them."

"They never fights in winter, and your fishin' pole is strong enough so
she won't be hurt any by heavin' they out soon as you hooks un," grinned
Toby. "'Tis too cold to play with un any. Just heave un up on the ice.
They don't feel much like sportin' about this weather."

Charley had scarcely dropped his line into the water, when Violet gave a
little scream of delight, and cried:

"I gets one! I gets the first un!" and with a mighty yank she flung a
three-pound trout clear of the hole.

A few minutes later Charley, no less excited and thrilled, landed one
that was even larger than the one Violet had caught, and at the end of
half an hour the three had caught forty big fellows, some of which,
Charley declared, were "as big as shad."

It was stinging cold, and even with the up and down movement of the line
it was often caught fast in the newly forming ice. At intervals of a few
minutes it was necessary to use the ax to reopen the holes, and the
lines themselves were thickly encrusted by ice.

"'Tis wonderful cold standin' on the ice," said Violet at length. "I has
to go in to get warm."

"We're gettin' all the trout we can use for a bit," suggested Toby. "If
you wants to go in, Charley, I'll be goin' too."

"I'm ready to quit," Charley admitted. "It's mighty cold standing in one
place so long."

"Wait a bit," said Toby. "I'll be gettin' a box to put the trout in, and
the old komatik to haul un up to the house. Wait and help me."

Charley busied himself throwing the fish from the three piles into one,
while Toby followed Violet to the house, and when he had finished looked
out over the bay. Far down the bay he saw something moving over the ice,
and in a moment recognized it as an approaching dog team.

"Somebody's coming!" he shouted to Toby. "There's a team of dogs coming
up the bay!"

"Who, now, might that be?" puzzled Toby, who ran down to Charley.

"They must be coming here, for we're the last place up the bay,"
reasoned Charley.

"They's sure comin' here!" said Toby. "I'm thinkin' now she may be a
team from the French Post in Eskimo Bay, up south. They comes down north
every year about this time to buy fur, though they never comes here
before."

"Maybe they heard about your silver fox," suggested Charley, "and
they're coming to try to buy it from you. Ask a good price for it. It's
a good one."

"Maybe 'tis that now," admitted Toby. "Aaron and David's been telling
they about un, and they thinks they'll be comin' and buyin' she. But
I'll not sell un. I'll let Dad sell un."

The boys excitedly threw the fish into two boxes that Toby had brought
down on the old sledge that they used for sailing, and hastening to the
cabin announced the approaching visitors to Mrs. Twig.

She was in a flurry at once. She put the kettle over, and told Violet to
set two places at the table, and Toby to clean some trout, and in a
jiffy she had a pan of trout on the stove frying.

"There'll be two of un, whatever," she predicted. "The traders always
has a driver."

But as the komatik approached nearer, the boys discovered that there was
but one man, and, therefore, Toby was certain it could not be the French
trader.

"He'd be havin' a driver, whatever. He never travels without un," Toby
asserted. "I'm not knowin' the team. 'Tis sure not the Company[12]
team."

"We'll soon know now," said Charley, as the dogs swung in from the bay
ice and up the incline toward the cabin.

Toby's dogs had been standing in the background growling ominously as
they watched the approach of the strange team. Now, as one dog, they
moved to the attack and as the two packs came together there was a mass
of snapping, snarling, howling dogs. The stranger with the butt of his
whip, Toby with a club that he grabbed from the woodpile, jumped among
them and beating them indiscriminately presently succeeded in
establishing an armistice between the belligerents, the Twig dogs
retiring, and the visitors, persuaded by their master's whip, lying down
quietly in harness.

"Is this Double Up Cove, and are you Toby Twig?" asked the stranger
through an ice-coated beard, when he was free to speak.

"Aye," admitted Toby, "'tis Double Up Cove, and I'm Toby Twig, sir. Come
into the house and get warmed up and have a cup o' tea. 'Tis a wonderful
cold day to be cruisin', sir."

"Thank you," said the stranger, shaking hands with Toby and Charley. "It
is cold traveling, and I'll come in."

"Charley and I'll be unloadin' your komatik, and puttin' your cargo
inside so the dogs won't get at un," suggested Toby. "You'll bide here
the night, sir?"

"Yes," said the stranger, "I'll spend the night here."

"Come in and have a cup o' tea, and we'll loose your dogs after, sir,"
suggested Toby, leading the way to the cabin.

Mrs. Twig, still flurried with the coming of a stranger, met them at the
door.

"Come right in, sir. 'Tis wonderful cold outside," she invited.

"Thank you," said the man. "That fish you're frying smells appetizing.
My name is Marks. I'm the trader at White Bear Run. I suppose you're
Mrs. Twig and this little maid is your daughter?"

"Aye, sir, I'm Mrs. Twig and this is Vi'let."

"Glad to see you both," and after shaking hands with Mrs. Twig and
Violet, Marks the trader from White Bear Run proceeded to remove his
adikey, and standing over the stove that the heat might assist him, to
remove the mass of ice from his thickly encrusted beard.

"Set in now and have a cup o' tea, sir, and some trout," invited Mrs.
Twig when Marks's beard was cleared to his satisfaction.

"Thank you," and Marks took a seat. "Nippy out. Hot tea is warming.
Trout good too. Regular feast!"

"The lads and Vi'let just catches the trout this morning."

When he was through eating, Marks donned his adikey, and went out of
doors to release his dogs from harness. Toby and Charley had already
unlashed his load, and carried his things into the porch where they
would be safe from the inquisitive and destroying dogs.

One by one Marks loosed his dogs from harness, giving each a vicious
kick as it was freed, and sending it away howling and whining, until he
came to the last one, a big, gray creature. As he approached this
animal, it bared its fangs and snarled at him savagely. With the butt of
his whip he beat the dog mercilessly. Then slipping the harness from the
animal, Marks kicked at it as he had kicked at the others. The dog,
apparently expecting the kick, sprang aside, and Marks losing his
balance went sprawling in the snow. In an instant the savage beast was
upon him.

XXIII

THE LOST FUR

With the release of the stranger's dogs Toby had rather anticipated a
renewal of hostilities between the packs. To be prepared and armed for
such an event he was standing by with his dog whip ready for action.

He had been observing Marks and the dog, and the ill feeling between the
two had caused him to expect, sooner or later, some such accident as
that which had occurred. The gray dog was bolder than is usual with
Eskimo dogs, and Toby had no doubt that it was constantly on the alert
for an opening that might permit it to find its cruel master at a
disadvantage, when it could attack and destroy him safely.

With these thoughts, Toby was an anxious witness of the inhuman
treatment of the dogs by Marks, and when the big wolf dog sprang upon
its victim, he intuitively and instantly brought the butt of his whip
down upon the dog's head using all the force of his young arm. This
unexpected attack from the rear caused the animal to retreat, but not
until it had torn a rent in the man's adikey, and drawn blood from his
shoulder, barely missing the neck and throat, which had been its aim.

Marks was in a white rage when he regained his feet, and the dog would
have had another merciless beating at his hands, had he been able to
approach it, but it wisely kept at a distance, and would not permit
itself to be approached.

"That dog's holdin' a grudge against you," remarked Toby. "He'll be
gettin' you when you're not mindin' he sometime, and he'll sure kill you
if he does. I'd shoot un if 'twere mine."

"No," snapped Marks decisively, "I won't kill him. He won't kill me.
I'll keep him and club him till he cringes and crawls at my feet. I'll
be his master. No dog can make me kill him because he's bad. I'll take
it out of him."

"But that un has a grudge," repeated Toby.

"Just bad! Just bad! Three-quarters wolf! I'll make him a dog and take
the wolf out of him."

The wound in Marks's shoulder proved little more than a scratch. Mrs.
Twig bathed it with Dr. Healum's Liniment, and Marks assured her it
would be all right. Then while Marks smoked, and the boys sat and talked
with him, she repaired his torn adikey.

"I'm buying fur," Marks presently suggested. "Aaron Slade told me you
have some."

"We has some fur," Toby admitted, "but Dad sells the fur and he's away
at his path. He'll not be comin' home till the middle o' April month."

"Too bad, but I'd like to have a look at it. Aaron says you have a
silver fox. I'd like to see that."

"I'll get un," said Toby.

While Toby opened the fur chest, and brought forth the cotton bag in
which he kept the silver fox pelt, Marks watched him closely. As Toby
drew the pelt from the bag and handed it to Marks and the man shook it
out and held it up for inspection, Charley detected a gleam in his eye
of mingled admiration and greed, and it gave Charley a most
uncomfortable feeling.

"I'll give you four hundred cash for it," said Marks without taking his
eyes from the fur.

"No," Toby declined, "I'm not wantin' to sell un."

"That's a good offer," persisted Marks. "It's about what they'll give
you at the post in _trade_. I'll pay _cash_."

"I'll not sell un. I'll keep un till Dad comes home, and let he sell
un."

"Four hundred fifty," said Marks, and he drew forth a roll of bills and
counted out the money. "There's the cash. Take it. I want this fur. It's
a big price."

"I can't take un," Toby declined, unmoved. "I'm not doubtin' 'tis a fair
price, but I'll not sell un. The fur's for Dad to sell when he comes
home."

"You're a stubborn young fool!" blurted the man in a burst of temper.

"I'm not doubtin' that either," grinned Toby. "I'm a bit stubborn
whatever about not sellin' the fur. 'Tis for Dad to sell."

"All right. We'll call you stubborn and not a fool but foolish. That's
what I mean to say. You're turning down the best offer you'll ever get
for that skin, and your father will say so, and he would want you to
sell it if he were here."

The man smiled in an effort to appear agreeable, though Charley thought
there was something sinister and unpleasant in the curl of his lips.

"I'll not sell un whatever without Dad's tellin' me to sell un."

At his request Toby displayed to Marks his other pelts.

"I'll pay you twenty-five dollars apiece for your marten skins, and take
them as they run," Marks offered. "That's cash I'm offering, not trade."

"I can't sell un," Toby declined. "We owes a debt at the Company shop,
and we has to use un to pay the debt. They gives us thirty dollars for
un there."

"But that's trade," said Marks. "I offer cash, and twenty-five in cash
is more than thirty-five in trade."

"Not for us," objected Toby. "If we takes twenty-five dollars in cash we
only buys twenty-five dollars' worth with un. If we trades un in we gets
thirty dollars' worth with un, whatever."

"I can't argue with you, I see," and the man appeared to relinquish his
effort to buy the fur.

Marks made no further reference to the pelts, indeed, until after Mrs.
Twig and Violet had retired that evening to the inner room and to bed.
Then for nearly an hour he sat smoking and telling the boys stories of
adventures up and down the coast, until Charley, yawning, suggested that
he was sleepy, and saying good night retired to the bunk which he and
Toby occupied.

While Toby was spreading a caribou skin upon the floor near the stove as
a protection for Marks's sleeping bag, Marks suggested:

"Let me see that silver again. I'd like another look at it."

Toby obligingly brought it forth, and again Marks held it up for
inspection.

"I'll give you five hundred and fifty in trade for that, and you can
come to my shop at White Bear Run and trade it out any time you like."

"No, I'll not sell un," and there was no doubt that this was Toby's
final and decisive decision.

"All right!" and Marks returned the pelt to Toby. "You have an otter
there you didn't show me. How about that?"

Toby passed the otter pelt over to Marks, who examined it critically,
and finally suggested:

"I'll give you fifty-five dollars in cash for it."

That was a good price. Toby was aware that the best price for otters at
the Hudson's Bay Company's shop was fifty dollars in trade, and he could
see no reason for refusing to sell it to Marks.

"You can have he," he accepted.

"Glad I can buy something," Marks grinned, counting out the money and
handing it to Toby.

"Aye," said Toby, accepting the bills and counting them, "and I'm glad I
can sell that un to you, sir."

"Dream pleasant dreams, and let them be about the silver fox," Marks
smiled his sinister smile. "If you dream right, you'll dream you took me
up on my offer."

"I'll not be dreamin' that, sir, whatever. Good night, and I hopes
you'll rest well," and closing the fur chest, Toby joined Charley, who
was already asleep.

Marks made no further mention of the silver fox the following morning.
Directly breakfast was eaten he packed his sledge, harnessed his dogs,
and drove away, and was soon lost in the distance.

It was after sundown that evening, when Toby and Charley had just fed
the dogs, and were about to return to the cabin, when suddenly there
appeared out of the silent forest a party of six Indians, each hauling a
heavily laden flat sled, or toboggan.

Charley was the first to see them as they emerged in single file from
the shadow of the trees into the clearing--tall, swarthy creatures, with
straight, coarse black hair reaching to their shoulders, and held in
place by red or blue bands of cloth tied around the forehead. They wore
hooded buckskin coats, decorated with painted designs. Two of the
Indians had the hoods of their coats drawn over their heads, showing
them to be of caribou skin with the hairy side out, and with pieces of
skin sewn on each side of the hood to represent ears, and which served
to lend a savage aspect to the wearer. Some of them wore buckskin
leggings, while others wore leggings of bright red cloth reaching from
their buckskin moccasins to the knees.

Straight down they came on their snowshoes to Charley and Toby. Fierce
and wild they looked to Charley, but Toby stepped out to meet them and
to shake the hand of each, greeting them in their own tongue, while they
laughed as they returned the greeting and appeared to be glad to see
Toby.

Then they shook hands with Charley, and when he looked into their faces
he decided that they were not so savage after all, but human enough,
though he could not take his eyes from their strange dress. It spoke of
mystery and of the wild life the men lived in the trackless land from
which they came.

They unpacked their toboggans, and directed by Toby stowed their
belongings in the porch. When everything was stowed, they stood the
toboggans on end, leaning them against the house, and followed Toby into
the living-room.

Mrs. Twig welcomed the Indians with the cordiality of the frontier, and
made a pot of tea for them, which they drank with rare relish until the
pot was drained.

Then spoke Amishku[13] who was the leader, or chief, and Toby, who
understood their language well, interpreted his words:

"We have been far into the land hunting the caribou, the marten and the
fox, and it has been long since we have visited the wigwams of the white
man. This is the first tea we have had in many moons. It is good, and
we are hungry for it. You are our friends."

"Tell un we'll be havin' supper after a bit," said Mrs. Twig, "and then
I'll make more tea."

Upon Toby repeating this, the Indians laughed and two of them went to
the porch, where their belongings had been left, and presently returned
with a quantity of jerked[14] caribou meat, half a dozen caribou tongues
smoked and cured after the Indian manner, and six beautifully tanned
hides of buckskin, all of which they presented to Mrs. Twig.

"Give the poor men each a stick of your father's tobacco," directed Mrs.
Twig, when the Indians had seated themselves upon the floor, with their
backs against the wall, after supper.

Toby went to Skipper Zeb's chest, and fetched a plug for each of them.
When they saw the tobacco their faces beamed, and every man drew a red
stone pipe from his belt, and when they had filled their pipes and were
sending up clouds of smoke they began to laugh and joke.

The conversation inevitably turned to the success of the winter's hunt,
and the fur they had caught, and Toby went proudly to his chest to
produce and exhibit his precious silver fox pelt to the appreciative
eyes of the Indians.

He gave an exclamation of horror, and standing up held in his hand the
empty bag in which he had kept the pelt. Then he wildly rummaged to the
very bottom of the chest, and finally cried out:

"'Tis gone! The silver's gone!"

Madly he looked through the chest again, throwing out every pelt and
every article it contained, but the pelt was not there.

FOOTNOTES:
[12] Hudson's Bay Company.
[13] The Beaver.
[14] Dried.

XXIV

THE VENGEANCE OF THE PACK

Marks was well satisfied with his day's work. He had gone to Double Up
Cove for the silver fox pelt, and he had it. He also had the otter pelt.
He had paid a good price for the otter--more than he would have paid
under ordinary circumstances. Still, it would yield him a fair margin of
profit.

He and Toby had been alone when the bargain was struck. Mrs. Twig and
the little maid had retired and were asleep, and in any case could not
have heard the final bargaining or conversation between himself and
Toby. He was assured, also, by the lad's heavy breathing, that Charley
was asleep. There was no witness. It would be his word against Toby's.
He was a trader with an established reputation, Toby was only a boy.

Marks cringed a little when it occurred to him that contracts made with
minors were not binding, if the minor's parents or guardians chose not
to approve them. But this was Labrador, with no court of justice to
which they might appeal. Possession was the point, and Marks grinned
with satisfaction. He had the pelt in his possession.

No doubt, when the silver fox pelt was missed, he would be accused of
having stolen it. When they came to him, he would simply claim that he
had purchased it from Toby, upon a trade basis, and that the price was
five hundred and fifty dollars. He would stand upon this claim. He was
prepared to supply them with goods to this extent of value at any time
they might choose to come to his shop at White Bear Run and select them.
The price he should put on the goods, he assured himself, would be
sufficiently high to render the deal a highly profitable one for him.

Marks had no doubt that he could establish a plausible case. He assured
himself that he had no intention of stealing the pelt. At most, he had
been guilty only of sharp practice. He would pay for it. From the moment
that Aaron Slade had told him about it, he had set his heart upon
possessing it, and, he told himself, he usually got what he wanted.

"I'm a go-getter," he laughed in self-appreciation.

The sun was climbing in the sky, and the reflection from the great white
field of snow covered ice was intense. At this season it is never safe
to travel in the north with the eyes unprotected by goggles fitted with
smoked or orange-tinted glasses. The penalty for neglect might prove a
serious attack of snow-blindness.

Marks felt in a pocket for his goggles. He could not find them. He felt
in another pocket, and repeated the search, but they were not to be
found. Then he remembered that he had laid them on the shelf beside the
clock, at Double Up Cove, at the time he had taken off his adikey the
previous day, and he had no recollection of having removed them from the
shelf.

It was a risk to proceed without them, but there was a very good reason
why he could not safely return to the cabin at Double Up Cove. He felt
that it was to his advantage, until the Twigs had become accustomed to
the loss of the silver fox skin, to place as many miles as he could
between himself and them, and to do it as quickly as possible. Toby was
stubborn, and nobody knew what he might do in his first anger upon
discovering his loss.

"He might even shoot," he mused. "That other fellow didn't like me, and
the two work together. I'll take a chance without glasses, and won't go
back for them."

He turned about on the komatik and looked toward the cabin, his guilty
conscience prompting him to fear that even now he might be followed. The
cabin was still in view, and to his relief he could discover no
activity, and nothing to alarm him.

He urged the dogs forward, and did not halt until he had passed Pinch-In
Tickle, and early in the afternoon had turned into the next bay to the
southward.

Here he found a grove of spruce trees, and with firewood at hand he
stopped and lighted a fire and put his kettle over to boil for luncheon.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12