Left on the Labrador Part 14

"I'm wonderful hungry too," admitted Toby. "I'm as empty as a flour barrel that's been sc.r.a.ped, and I'm not knowin' anything we could find to eat, with snow on the ground. If the ground were clear we might be findin' berries, though I'm doubtin' there's many on Swile Island. But if there are, they're under the snow and they'll have to bide there, for we never could be findin' they."

"It seems to me I can't sleep without something to eat," Charley complained. "I just can't stand it much longer, that's all."

"Try gettin' asleep," counseled Toby, "and when you gets asleep you'll be forgettin' about bein' hungry."

Charley did get to sleep readily enough, but it was only to dream that he was hungry, and always in his dreams he was about to get food, but something happened to keep it from him.

Two more days pa.s.sed, and still the boys were without food. No one can know but one who has starved the degree of their hunger and craving for food during this period. Nothing that might have served as food would have been rejected by them or have been repugnant to them, but no morsel could they find. It was on the morning of the third day of their famine, when hunger pangs were the keenest, that Toby announced:

"I been prayin' the Lard to send the ice, and telling He how we wants to get away from here but don't know how until ice comes. Has you been prayin', Charley?"

"No," confessed Charley, "I've been growling around about our hard luck and about being hungry. All I know is the Lord's prayer anyhow. I never was taught to pray out of my head. How do you do it?"

"Just talk to the Lard like you talks to anybody," said Toby in astonishment. "Ask He what you wants He to give you or wants He to do, just like you asks your Dad."

"You pray for both of us," suggested Charley. "Do it aloud so that I can hear it, and I'll say it over to myself, and maybe that will help. Don't forget to tell Him how hungry we are."

"I'm not doubtin' 'twould help," agreed Toby. "We'll be takin' off our caps. 'Twill be more respectful. Mr. Stuart at the Hudson's Bay Post makes us take off our caps when we talks to he and asks he anything."

"Yes, and we'd better get on our knees too," suggested Charley.

"Aye, 'twould be respectful," Toby agreed. "Dad says 'tis fine to kneel when 'tis so we can, though if we can't, to pray standin' up or rowin' a boat, or any way that's handiest."

Taking off their caps and kneeling upon their sleeping bags under the lean-to, and bowing their heads reverently, Toby prayed:

"Charley and I are wonderful hungry, Lard. We been bidin' here on this island, which we calls Swile Island, goin' on ten days. We only has two meals a day till day before yesterday, and since then we has nothin' and to-day we has nothin'. Please, Lard, calm the sea and let the bay fasten over so 'twill be right to walk on, and we'll be goin' to Double Up Cove where our home is. You know all about it, Lard. We been doin' our best, Lard, and we don't know anything more to do. We're in a wonderful bad fix, and we needs help to get out of un. We're wantin' somethin' to eat, Lard, and we'll be wonderful thankful for un. Amen."

The boys sat down and resumed their caps, and in a moment Charley said:

"That was a bang up prayer, Toby. I couldn't have thought of a thing to say, except that I was hungry, but you thought of everything."

That evening Toby announced that the sea was calmer, but still too rough to freeze, and the next morning that the water was much "steadier,"

though yet not enough to freeze.

"If she keeps on steadyin' down I'm thinkin' by to-morrow marnin' she'll begin to fasten."

"I'm not half so hungry as I was," said Charley, "but I'll be just as glad to get away from here."

"That's the way I hears the Indians say 'tis," said Toby, "and that's the way 'tis with me. I wants to eat, but I'm not hankerin' after un the way I was first."

Another morning brought a calm, though still unfrozen, sea. The boys were early by the sh.o.r.e to scan eagerly the waters.

"She's smokin'!" exclaimed Toby. "She's smokin'! 'Tis a sure sign!"

"What do you mean?" asked Charley excitedly. "Do you mean that haze that hangs over the water?"

"Aye," explained Toby, "'tis what we calls the sea smoke."

But this time the sign failed, and another morning dawned with the sea still free from its wintry shackles. A gentle swell, but quite enough to prevent the hoped for freezing, was rolling in, and the boys, quite discouraged, returned to their fire.

"We can't stand it much longer," declared Charley, making no effort to conceal his discouragement. "I'm getting so weak I don't believe I can ever walk to Double Up Cove, even if it does freeze. I'm weak and I'm sleepy all the time. We've been days without eating, and even when it does freeze you say we'll have to wait a day or two before the ice outside will be strong enough to bear our weight."

"Don't be talkin' that way now," counseled Toby. "We were prayin' the Lard, and He'll fix un for us. Keep a stout heart We'll not be givin' up hopes for another week, _what_ever."

"The Lord don't seem to be answering our prayer," retorted Charley.

And Toby, though he hid his thoughts within his breast, realized, even better than did Charley, that their position was now desperate, and that with another day or two without food they might become too weak to make the journey to Double Up Cove. Even were the bay to freeze that very night, at least two days must elapse before the water at a distance from sh.o.r.e would be hard enough frozen to bear their weight, and permit them to cross to the mainland.

XIII

THE GREAT SNOWY OWL

The cold had become intense, and in their starving condition Charley and Toby felt it perhaps the more keenly. With the disappointment of another morning dawning and still no sign of the longed-for ice, Charley, after making his declaration of discouragement and hopelessness to Toby, became quiet and morose. He had no inclination to leave the tent and the fire, and he spent his time sitting under the shelter and brooding over his troubles.

Toby, no less anxious, made frequent journeys along the sh.o.r.e. On each return he would endeavour to engage Charley in conversation, but without result. Charley's replies to questions were "yes" or "no," unless a statement was necessary, and then it was given in as few words as possible. He appeared to have suddenly developed a grudge against Toby, as though Toby were responsible for their unfortunate position, and at length would not respond to Toby's efforts at conversation, or reply to him.

This was an att.i.tude that Toby could not in the least understand, and he finally, when Charley in silence crawled into his sleeping bag, left the lean-to, doubly depressed because of Charley's bearing toward him, and set out again to reconnoiter the island.

"'Tis not me he's angry with," he soliloquized, "'tis the hunger, and 'tis gettin' the insides of his head sick, like Dad says worry will."

Toby wandered aimlessly along the sh.o.r.e rocks. He was weak, and walking was becoming an effort. For two or three days he and Charley had noticed that when they sat down their knees would unexpectedly give way to let them down with a shock upon their seat; and when they arose, they were compelled to stand for a moment to steady themselves lest they would stagger. Toby's usually brisk walk was now a lounging gait, like that of one grown old.

He had more than half circled the island, and was returning to the lean-to, when his eye fell upon something white, perched in a spruce tree which stood apart from the other trees. He stepped nearer, and his heart leaped with joy. The object was a great snowy owl.

With the best haste he could make he hurried back to the lean-to.

Charley was asleep in his bag, and without arousing him Toby secured his rifle, and returned with renewed haste and vigour to the tree.

There still sat the owl taking its daytime rest, and quite unconscious of impending danger. With greater care than he had ever taken before, Toby aimed, fired, and the owl came tumbling to the snow below.

As though fearful that it might still escape from him, Toby sprang upon the dead bird like a ravenous wolf. Tears of joy came into his eyes as he held it up and stroked its feathers, and hugged it close to his breast. This would save his own and Charley's life, and how glad Charley would be!

How he ran back to the lean-to! How he shouted to Charley as he approached! How the two boys, their eyes wet with tears, stroked the thing for a moment before plucking it! these were events that neither ever forgot while he lived.

"The Lard sent un to us! The Good Lard sent un!" declared Toby.

"The Lord surely sent it to save us!" said Charley devoutly. "Toby, I've been a cad. I was so selfish that I was thinking that nothing mattered but my having to stay here, and I guess I was blaming you for it. I don't know why, for you didn't make the storm that stranded us here.

Anyhow, I acted a cad, and I want to tell you how sorry I am."

"'Tweren't your fault," soothed Toby. "Don't think of un. 'Twere like Dad says, you got to worryin' and worry were makin' the insides of your head upsot."

"Your father always says not to worry, but the Lord will help us out of any fix, if we do our best first," said Charley. "He's right. Isn't it just great, Toby, that you saw it and shot it! I feel like yelling, I feel so happy!"

"Just get out and yell all you wants to," grinned Toby. "We'll have one good feed, whatever."

In remarkably short time the owl was plucked, dressed and boiling merrily over the fire in a kettle that was becoming rusty from disuse.