Blake's Burden Part 33

"A sledge trail!" he said in an exultant voice. "Drifted up a bit, but they've been hauling lumber over it and that means a good deal to us."

He indicated a shallow furrow a foot or two outside the groove.

"That's been made by the b.u.t.t of a trailing log. The Indian said there were bluffs near the post and they wouldn't haul their cordwood farther than necessary."

Then they were silent for a few moments, overcome by relief. They had now a guide to shelter and safety, but when they had gathered breath Blake steadied Harding, who found standing difficult, with his arm.

"We must make a move and hustle all we can," he said. "It will be dark in half an hour and the snow won't take long in filling up the trail."

The risk of missing the factory, which might be close at hand, was not to be faced, and they pulled themselves together for a last effort; Blake and Benson breathing hard as they dragged Harding along. The light was rapidly going, now they had changed their course the snow lashed their faces, making it difficult to see, and they plodded forward with lowered heads and eyes fixed on the guiding-line. It grew faint in places and vanished altogether after a while. Then they stopped in dismay, and Blake went down upon his knees sc.r.a.ping with ragged mittens in the snow.

"I can't see which way it runs, but it certainly doesn't end here," he said. "Go ahead and look for it, Benson, but don't get out of call."

Benson moved forward and when he faded into the cloud of driving flakes those he left behind were conscious of a keen uneasiness. They could only see a few yards, it was blowing fresh and the wind might carry their voices away, while if this happened the chances were against their comrade's being able to rejoin them. By and by Blake shouted and the answer was rea.s.suring. They waited for a time and then when they cried out a hail came back very faintly: "Nothing yet!"

"Keep closer!" Blake shouted, but it seemed that Benson did not hear him, for there was no reply.

"Hadn't you better go after him?" Harding suggested.

"No," said Blake shortly. "It would make things worse to scatter." He raised his voice. "Come back before your tracks fill up."

The silence that followed filled them with alarm, but while they listened in strained suspense a minute or two later a faint call came out of the snow. The words were indistinguishable, but the voice had an exultant note in it, and Blake said with deep relief, "He has found the trail."

It was difficult to see the print of Benson's shoes and Harding could not move a step alone, but they called out at intervals as Blake slowly helped him along, and at length a shadowy object loomed in front of them. As they came up Benson pointed to a slight depression.

"We can follow it if it gets no fainter, but there's no time to lose,"

he said. "It might be safer if I went first and kept my eye on the trail."

He shuffled forward with lowered head while Blake came behind, helping Harding as best he could, and all three long remembered the next half hour. Once or twice they lost the trail and were seized with despair, but searching anxiously they found it again. At length a pale, elusive light appeared amidst the snow ahead and they saw it grow clearer with keen satisfaction. When it had changed to a strong yellow glow they pa.s.sed a broken white barrier which Blake supposed was a ruined stockade, and the hazy ma.s.s of a building showed against the snow.

Then there was a loud barking of dogs, and while they sought for the door a stream of light suddenly shone out with a man's dark figure in the midst of it.

Next minute they entered the house and Harding lurching forward across the floor of a large room, clutched at a table and then fell with a crash into a chair. After the extreme cold outside, the air was suffocatingly hot and, overcome by the change and pain, he leaned back with flushed face and half closed eyes. His companions stood still, with the snow thick upon their ragged furs, and the other man shut the door before he turned to them.

"A rough night," he said calmly. "Ye might as weel sit down. Where do ye hail from?"

Blake laughed as he found a seat. He imagined that their appearance must have been somewhat startling, but he knew it takes a good deal to disturb the equanimity of a Hudson's Bay Scot.

"From Sweet.w.a.ter, but we have been up in the timber belt since winter set in. Now we have run out of provisions and my partner's lamed by snowshoe trouble."

"Ay," said the other, "I suspected something o' the kind. But maybe ye'll be wanting supper?"

"I believe, if we were put to it, we could eat half a caribou," Benson told him with a grin.

"It's no to be had," the Scot answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "I can give ye a good thick bannock and some whitefish. Our stores are no so plentiful the now."

They took off their furs and glanced about the place while their host was busy at the stove. The room was large, its walls of narrow logs c.h.i.n.ked with clay and moss. Guns and steel traps hung upon them, the floor was made of uneven boards which had obviously been split in the nearest bluff, and the furniture was of the simplest and rudest description. It had, however, an air of supreme comfort to the famis.h.i.+ng newcomers, and after the first few minutes they found it delightfully warm. They ate the food given them ravenously and afterwards the agent brought Harding some warm water and examined his leg.

"Ye'll no walk far for a while I'm thinking," he remarked. "Rest it on the chair here and sit ye still."

Harding was glad to comply and lighting their pipes they began to talk.

Their host, who told them his name was Robertson, was a rather hard-featured man of middle age.

"I'm all my lone; my clerk's away with the breeds at the Swan lake," he said. "Where are ye making for?"

"For the south," said Blake. "We came here for shelter, badly tired, and want to hire a dog team and a half-breed guide if possible, as soon as my partner's fit to travel. Then we want provisions."

"I'm afraid I cannot supply ye. Our stores are low--we got few fish and caribou the year, and we have not a team to spare."

"Well," said Benson, "I don't suppose you'll turn us out, and we'd be glad to pay for our accommodation. We have no wish to take the trail again without food or transport."

Robertson looked thoughtful. "Ye might wait a week or two; and then we'll maybe see better what can be done."

He asked them a few questions about their journey, and by and by Harding took the piece of gum from its case.

"I guess you have seen nothing like this round here?"

"No," said Robertson, who examined it carefully. "I have made it my business to study the natural products o' the district, and it's my opinion ye'll find no gum of this kind in the northern timber belt."

"I expect you're right. Leaving furs out, if the country's rich in anything, it's probably minerals."

"There's copper and some silver, but I've seen no ore that would pay for working when ye consider the transport."

"I don't suppose you're anxious to encourage prospecting," Benson suggested.

Robertson smiled. "If there was a rich strike, we would no object.

We're here to trade, and supplying miners is no quite so chancy as dealing in furs; but to have a crowd from the settlements disturbing our preserves and going away after finding nothing of value would not suit us. Still I'm thinking, it's no likely; the distance and the winter will keep them out."

"Did you ever see signs of oil?"

"No here; there's petroleum three hundred miles south, but no enough, in my opinion, to pay for driving wells. Onyway, the two prospecting parties that once came up didna come back again."

He left them presently, and when they heard him moving about an adjoining room, Harding said, "We'll stay here for a time and then look for that petroleum on our way to the settlements."

Blake, who agreed, thought this determination was characteristic of his comrade. Harding's project had failed, but instead of being crushed by disappointment, he was already considering another. While they talked about it Robertson returned, and shortly afterwards they went to sleep.

CHAFFER XXV

THE BACK TRAIL

Blake and his friends spent three weeks at the Hudson's Bay post, and throughout the first fortnight an icy wind hurled the snow against the quivering building. It was dangerous to venture as far as a neighbouring bluff where fuel had been cut, and one evening Benson and the agent, who were hauling cordwood home, narrowly escaped from death in the suddenly freshening storm. None of the half-breeds could reach the factory and Robertson confessed to some anxiety about them; there was little that could be done, and they spent the dreary days lounging about the red-hot stove, and listening to the roar of the gale. In the long evenings Robertson told them grim stories of the North.

Then there came a week of still, clear weather with intense frost, and when several of the trappers arrived Robertson suggested that his guests had better accompany a man who was going some distance south with a dog team. He could, however, only spare them a scanty supply of food, and they knew that a long forced march lay before them when they had left their guide.

Day was breaking when the dogs were harnessed to the sledge, and Harding and his companions, s.h.i.+vering in their furs, felt a strong reluctance to leave the factory. It was a rude place and very lonely, but they had enjoyed warmth and food there, and their physical nature shrank from the toil and bitter cold. None of them wished to linger in the North, and Harding least of all, but it was daunting to contemplate the distance that lay between them and the settlements. Strong effort and stern endurance would be required of them before they rested beside a hearth again.

There was no wind, the smoke went straight up and then, spreading out, hung above the roof in a motionless cloud; the snow had a strange ghostly glimmer in the creeping light, and the cold bit to the bone.

It was with a pang they bade their host farewell, and followed the half-breed, who ran down the slope from the door after his team.

Robertson was going back to sit, warm and well-fed, by his stove, but they could not tell what hards.h.i.+ps awaited them.