Left on the Labrador

D >> Dillon Wallace >> Left on the Labrador

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When the fire was burning freely, Marks discovered, upon looking into
it, a painful sensation in his eyeballs. The glare of the snow had
affected them. Before he finished eating, the pain had developed
considerably, and he determined to remain where he was until sunset,
when he would proceed to Aaron Slade's cabin, some five miles farther.
Here he could spend the night, and could borrow a pair of goggles, he
was sure, from Aaron. If he kept his eyes closed in the meantime, he
had no doubt they would be much improved when evening came.

Snapping his long whip over the dogs, he compelled them to lie down. The
big gray dog was slow to obey, and Marks laid the lash upon him two or
three times to enforce authority.

The dogs quieted, he dropped the whip in the snow at the rear of the
komatik, and within reach, and breaking some boughs arranged them to
form a comfortable couch near the fire. He then unlashed his sleeping
bag from the top of the load on his komatik, spread it upon the boughs
and crawled into it.

Marks fell asleep. When he awoke it was nearing sunset, and time to
drive on to Aaron Slade's. But he could only open his eyes to a narrow
slit, and that for a moment, when they would close. The pain was
excruciating. Marks was snowblind.

It was near feeding time, and the dogs were on their feet and restless.
If he could get them started, perhaps they would carry him unguided to
Slade's. At any rate, he determined to try, for he could not remain
where he was.

With much fumbling and groping he succeeded fairly well in securing his
load. He felt for his whip, and found it on the snow at the rear of the
komatik, where he had dropped it after compelling the dogs to lie down.

The restless dogs had swung around in their traces, and were facing him.
Through some mysterious instinct they appeared to have sensed the fact
that there was something wrong with Marks. When he ordered them forward,
and snapped the whip over them in an effort to straighten them out in
the direction in which he wished to go, they replied with snarls, and
refused to obey. Their open defiance of his authority sent Marks into a
rage. He tried to lash them, but in his blinded condition his aim was
poor and his efforts ineffectual.

His anger rose to white heat. If he could not lash them, he could at
least beat them into submission, at close quarters, with the clubbed
handle of the whip. With a volley of curses, he flew at them blindly,
beating right and left, and bringing whines of pain from the unfortunate
dogs that he chanced to strike.

Still they did not move into position. In painful peeps that he had
through narrow eye slits he saw the big gray dog facing him and snarling
at him with a show of its ugly fangs. That dog was the instigator of the
trouble he was having! He hated the creature! He would beat it into
submission!

The gray dog was in the center of the pack, and to reach it Marks was
compelled to step over the traces of some of the other dogs. One of
them, in fear of the whip handle, sprang away as Marks approached, and
in the movement wrapped its trace around the man's foot. Marks stooped
to disentangle his foot, and as he did the dog swung in another
direction in an effort to escape.

This motion jerked the blinded man's feet from under him, and unable to
recover his balance, he fell at full length among the dogs.

In a moment the gray dog, followed by the pack, was upon the prostrate
and helpless man. The trader's team had suddenly become a snarling,
yelping savage pack of wolves.

XXV

AMISHKU AND MAIGEN, THE INDIANS

Every one gathered around Toby and the chest. The Indians were no less
excited than were Charley and Toby. Again the chest was searched, but
with no result, until Charley thrust his hand into the cotton bag in
which Toby had kept the missing pelt, and drew forth a piece of paper.

"Here's something!" he exclaimed. "It's a note that man wrote and left."

"Read un! Read un to me, Charley!" Toby asked, and Charley read:

"To TOBY TWIG:

"I forgot to give you credit slip for the silver fox skin before
you went to bed. I may forget to give it to you in the morning, so
I will put this in the bag where you will find it. You may use this
as a credit memorandum. You may have trade goods from my store at
White Bear Run to the value of $550.00 at any time you wish to take
the goods.

"JACOB MARKS."

"I didn't trade he the silver!" Toby protested. "I'm not wantin' his
goods! I sold he the otter, and told he the silver was for Dad to sell
when he comes home from his path!"

"Of course you didn't sell it to him," Charley vouched indignantly.
"He's a crook! I knew it right away! He stole it! He's going to try to
make out that you sold it to him for five hundred and fifty dollars in
trade."

"I wants the silver back," said Toby decisively. "I'll get un, too! Come
on, Charley, we'll go for un now."

"All right, Toby, _I'll_ help you get it! We'll make that fellow hand it
over, if we ever catch him," and Charley meant every word of it.

"What is you lads about?" asked Mrs. Twig anxiously, as Toby and Charley
began to change to their traveling moccasins.

"Charley and I'll be gettin' the silver back," said Toby firmly.
"Marks'll be gettin' no farther than David Dyson's to-day, whatever, and
Charley and I'll be catchin' he by marnin'. If we don't we'll follow he
till we does, won't we, now, Charley? We'll be gettin' the silver."

"I'll stick to you, whatever you do," said Charley.

"You lads can't be goin' alone, whatever," objected Mrs. Twig.

"I'm goin' to get that silver!" persisted Toby.

"Don't be hasty, lads. Ask Amishku what he thinks about un," suggested
Mrs. Twig. "I'm fearin' to have you lads go."

In his excitement Toby had failed to interpret the note to the Indians,
nor had he told them of his purpose of following Marks, and they were
looking curiously on without understanding the conversation.

When Toby now told them in their own language the contents of the note
which Charley had found in the bag, and of his own and Charley's
intention of following Marks and recovering the pelt, and of his
mother's objection, the Indians were interested in behalf of their
friends. They gathered at once in council. Shortly Amishku turned to
Toby, and said:

"You are our friends and you are in trouble. We wish to help you. Your
silver fox skin has been stolen, and we will help you find the man that
stole it, and get it back for you. We are on our way to the Hudson's
Bay Company's Post at Snow Inlet. At Pinch-In Tickle we must turn north.
The man that stole your fur is from White Bear Run. That is south.

"This man left here this morning. He has been traveling all day. We must
go now and travel all night if we overtake him soon. I will go with you
and my brother Maigen[15] will go with you. You will take my things and
my brother's things on your sledge. Our three friends will follow
to-morrow and bring their flat sleds with their loads. At Pinch-In
Tickle they will wait for us if we are not there before them. We will
leave my brother's things and my own things at Pinch-In Tickle and go
south until we find the man that stole your fur. Then we will get the
fur and come back to Pinch-In Tickle where our friends will be waiting.

"Are you ready? We must go, and we must travel fast, that we may not
lose the man's trail."

There was hustle and bustle at once. Toby and Charley brought in the
komatik box that Mrs. Twig might pack in it necessary provisions and
other equipment. The Indians packed their goods upon the komatik,
together with the boys' sleeping bags, and Toby and Charley harnessed
the dogs.

All of these preparations required but a few minutes, and when they were
ready, and as the boys were leaving, Mrs. Twig plead with Toby to
prevent the Indians "hurting the poor man," even if he would not
surrender the fur.

"I'd shoot he myself," said Toby, "if he wouldn't give un up. I would,
I'm that self-willed!"

"Don't be hard on the poor man now," admonished Mrs. Twig as Toby broke
the dogs loose and they dashed away in the starlight.

The ice was firm and with few hummocks, and the snow that covered it was
frozen nearly as hard as the ice beneath it. The dogs made fast
progress, taking a steady trotting gait, with Toby and Charley trotting
beside the komatik and the two Indians ahead following the trail of
Marks to be certain that it did not turn to some other quarter.

This was an adventure indeed for Charley. He had never before seen
Indians other than those exhibited in shows in New York. But these were
different. They had never tasted civilization. They were like the
Indians that Natty Bumpo knew, and of which Charley had read in Cooper's
tales. He thrilled with the thought that he was traveling with Indians
quite as primitive as those which Henry Hudson met when he first sailed
up the river that was named after him. These, indeed, he was happy to
think, might be the descendants of some of those very Indians, still
living the untamed, free life of their primordial ancestors.

It was still dark when the komatik drew up before the cabins at Pinch-In
Tickle, now grown familiar to Charley. Here the Indians quickly unloaded
the komatik, while Toby and Charley lighted a fire in the stove and put
the kettle on to boil; and while Toby fried some fresh caribou steak,
the two Indians ran down the trail to assure themselves that Marks had
turned to the southward instead of to the northward.

Presently they were back to report that the ice was safe through the
tickle, and that Marks had gone, as Toby had expected, southward.

Charley was glad of the opportunity for a short rest, and both boys were
hungry. The moment they had eaten, however, the Indians were on their
feet keen for the chase. The sledge was lightly laden now, and the dogs
traveled so rapidly that Charley and Toby were able to ride much of the
time, though the Indians ran ahead to keep their eye on the trail.

Presently dawn came, and before they turned into the bay to the
southward it was full daylight. It was at this time that Amishku, who
was some distance in advance, held up his hand and signaled Toby to
stop. The two Indians in a moment were lost to view among the boulders
that lined the shore, and into which they crept.

"I wonder what's up?" asked Charley, no little excited by the
occurrence.

"I'm not knowin'. Maybe 'tis some game they sees. 'Tis not like that
Marks would be bidin' hereabouts. He sure went on to Dyson's or Slade's,
whatever," answered Toby, no less mystified than was Charley.

Not more than fifteen minutes had passed, though it seemed to the boys
much longer, when they saw the Indians returning, and when they joined
them at the komatik Amishku held out the silver fox pelt to Toby.

"We got the silver fox skin for our friend, and we are glad," said
Amishku, in high good humour. "The man who stole it will never steal
again."

"You--don't mean--you--killed him?" asked Toby, suddenly sorry that he
had permitted the Indians to come, and so horrified at the thought that
the Indians might have done such a thing for him that he could scarcely
speak.

"No," answered Amishku. "His dogs kill him. The dogs are there. The
sledge is there. Not much of the man is there."

"The gray dog!" exclaimed Toby.

They drove their team nearer to the scene of the tragedy. A horrible
thing met their view, and they quickly turned from it--blood-stained
snow, pieces of torn clothing, and other evidences of the tragedy that
had taken place.

The gray dog and his mates were still held in leash by their harness,
and Toby decided that they should drive on to Aaron Slade's cabin to
tell him what had happened and to ask his assistance. And when they
reached Aaron's and he had listened to their story, he said:

"I'll drive my team over and take care of un, lads. 'Tis no job for lads
like you."

XXVI

THE END OF THE FIX

March, with its sudden blizzards and terrific gales passed. Mid-April
came, and Toby and Charley, with dogs and komatik, met Skipper Zeb at
Black River tilt, when he appeared again out of the silent wilderness
with the harvest of his labours, and his winter's trapping was ended.

How happy they were when Skipper Zeb was home again. It was pleasant to
hear his big voice and his jolly laugh booming about the cabin. He was
always an optimist, and he always made every one feel that everything
was all right.

"Well, now! Here we are all safe and sound and snug! The winter gone,
and nothin' to worry about, but a wonderful lot to be thankful to the
Lard for!"

The days were long now, and with the coming of May the sun began to
assert his strength. The snow softened at midday, and sealskin boots
again took the place of buckskin moccasins.

Toby and Charley, with dogs and komatik, hauled wood that Toby had cut
in the fall, and more wood that Skipper Zeb felled each day, in
preparation for another winter.

"Before we knows un the summer'll be gone and the fishin' over, and
Dad'll be settin' up his traps again, and the winter'll come, and I'll
not be havin' you, Charley," said Toby sadly.

When there was enough wood cut and hauled to the cabin, and the warm
days of June came with their threat of a final break-up of the ice in
the bay, Long Tom Ham appeared to take the dogs to Lucky Bight for the
summer.

A lump came in Charley's throat when he saw Long Tom Ham drive the dogs
away. The going of the dogs marked the end of winter, and the time close
at hand when they should close the little cabin at Double Up Cove, where
he had spent so many happy months, and depart for Pinch-In Tickle, to
await the coming of the mail boat.

But with every wave of regret there followed the happy thought that he
would soon be with his father and his mother again, and the thought
always sent a tingle of joy up and down his spine. What a meeting that
would be! What a welcome he should receive! What tales he would have to
tell! How proud his father would be of him! How his mother would hover
over him and love him! As much as he regretted leaving his good friends,
these thoughts made the time that he must wait for his going seem all
too long.

Near the end of June came a deluge of rain. Miniature rivers poured down
the hillsides into the bay, and the world became a sea of slush. When
the rain ceased and the sky cleared, the sun shone warm and mellow, and
the ice, now broken into pans, began to move out with the tide.

Seals were now basking in the sunshine upon the loosened ice and upon
the shore, and for two weeks Skipper Zeb and the boys devoted their time
to hunting them. The skins were needed for boots, the flesh for dog
food, and the blubber for oil. Sometimes they would themselves eat seal
meat, and though the Twigs were fond of it, and Charley had pronounced
the meat excellent when he and Toby were starving on Swile Island, he
now thought it strong and not as palatable as he would like.

On the last day of June Skipper Zeb's trap boat, calked and made tight,
was launched, and Skipper Zeb announced:

"Well, now! Here we are clear of ice, and I'm thinkin' there'll soon be
signs of fish down at the tickle. To-morrow marnin', and the weather
holds fine, we'll be cruisin' down. In another week, or fortnight,
whatever, the mail boat'll be comin' and blowin' her whistle in the
offing. I tells you, Charley lad, when you comes, and when you wants to
go home so bad, that when the mail boat comes back and blows her whistle
in the offing, we'd be ready and waitin' for she."

And so it came to pass that Charley found himself again with Skipper Zeb
and his family in the little cabin at Pinch-In Tickle. How crude it had
seemed to him that day when Toby led him up the path, and he had first
met Skipper Zeb! How comfortable and hospitable it seemed to him now!
How many memories it held for him!

Early one morning there sounded the long blast of a whistle, and
presently the mail boat appeared in the tickle, and came to in the
offing. There was great excitement in Skipper Zeb's cabin. Charley had
no time to change to the clothes in which he had arrived, but they were
packed in a neat bundle, and in another bundle were the wolf and bear
skins, together with many other souvenirs of the winter. Charley wished
to give his rifle to Toby, but Toby declined:

"Keep un yourself to remember the bear, and our other huntin'."

"I'll send you and your father new ones, as I promised, anyhow," Charley
assured.

"Well, now, and there's the mail boat!" exclaimed Skipper Zeb. "She's
come at last to take Charley away from us! And this is the end of the
fix you gets in! I'm wonderful sorry to have you go, lad! We're thinkin'
of you like one of the family now, and we're not wishin' to lose you."

"We're all wonderful sorry!" and Mrs. Twig brushed away a tear.

"Some day," said Charley, his heart full, "I'll come back to see you,
and perhaps I'll bring Dad with me to show him how good you people are,
and how we live in a real wilderness."

"I'll be puttin' you over in the punt to the mail boat," said Toby,
reluctant to bid Charley farewell.

They all went down to the landing to see him off, Skipper Zeb, Mrs. Twig
and Violet. He sat in the stern of the punt, as he did on the day Toby
took him ashore, while Toby rowed him alongside and helped him on deck
with his baggage, and then the boys grasped each other's hands in
farewell.

"'Twere the finest winter I ever has--with you here," and Toby's choking
voice would permit him to say no more.

"It was the finest winter I ever spent, too," and Charley was little
less moved than Toby.

"The ship's movin'. Good-bye!" and Toby hurried down the ladder and into
his boat.

Charley stood at the rail watching Toby row his old punt back, until the
ship passed into the tickle and shut from view Toby, the rocky hillside,
the clinging cabins and Skipper Zeb with Mrs. Twig and Violet at the
landing still waving their farewell to him.

"Where you going?" the steward's question met Charley as he turned from
the rail.

"To St. John's. Don't you know me? I'm Charley Norton who came down with
you last fall."

It was several minutes before the steward could convince himself that
this upstanding, clear-eyed, bronze-skinned fellow, attired like a
Labradorman, was the pale, listless unhappy lad they had lost the
previous fall. Then he hastened to Captain Barcus with the news, and
Captain Barcus and the whole crew gathered around Charley and welcomed
him as they would have welcomed a returned hero, to his great confusion.

"Now a wireless to your father!" beamed Captain Barcus, when Charley had
been duly greeted.

* * * * *

Mr. Bruce Norton was in his private office on William Street, in New
York City, dictating his morning mail, when a boy laid a telegram upon
his desk. He finished the letter he was dictating, before opening the
message, and then he read:

"Will arrive in St. John's July twentieth, on mail boat from
Labrador. Had a great winter. Killed a wolf and shot a white bear.
Wire how you and mother are. Love to you both. Cannot wait to see
you.

"CHARLEY."

Mr. Norton was upon his feet before he had read the last line. He
stuffed the message into his pocket, seized his hat, and as he bolted
from his office he shouted to his secretary, who now filled the place
formerly occupied by Mr. Henry Wise:

"Get sleeper reservations for Mrs. Norton and myself to St. John's at
once!"

"For to-day?" asked the secretary.

"Yes! Yes! First train possible!" and Mr. Norton disappeared in an
elevator.

When Mr. Norton broke the good news to Mrs. Norton a half hour later,
the two declared it was the happiest day of their whole life. But when,
a week later, they greeted Charley in St. John's when he disembarked from
the mail boat, and he threw his arms around his mother, perhaps a
greater height of happiness was reached.

Before they left St. John's, Mr. Norton contracted for the best motor
boat that he could buy, to be shipped on the mail boat to Skipper Zeb;
and with it went a host of gifts to Mrs. Twig and Violet from Mrs.
Norton, and new rifles and ammunition to Skipper Zeb and Toby as gifts
from Charley.

And we may be sure that the friendship did not end with this. But our
story has already grown too long, and those happenings of after years
belong to another tale.

FOOTNOTE: [15] The Wolf.

Printed in the United States of America

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Transcriber's Notes:
1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.
2. In the original, the place name "St. John's" was consistently
spelled incorrectly as "St. Johns" and has been corrected here.

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