Christmas gold, p.440
Christmas Gold, page 440
"Ay, ay, sir."
"All right. Here are our kindlings. Katy, open your lantern, and let me set these shavings afire. Matches are too precious to be wasted or even risked."
A minute later a brisk little fire was burning, snow was turning to water, and cold water to hot, while coffee was thinking that presently it would be in the pot, and slices of bacon were saying good-bye to their fellows, as one by one they dropped into the frying-pan.
It was a strange scene, but the actors in it were too tired and hungry to notice how they looked, as they watched with eager interest the progress of supper-getting. They were not cold, and wraps were all thrown aside, for the wind was cut off, and the fire, small as it was, made a great deal of heat in the confined space. The atmosphere of an Eskimo house of ice, though there may be no better fire than a little pool of train-oil in a soapstone saucer, where a wick of moss is smoking and flaring, will become so warm that the people remove not only their furs, but a large part of their under-clothing, and this when the temperature outside is fifty degrees or so below freezing-point.
"It is just about big enough for a play-house," Katy remarked, as she jostled one and another in moving about.
"I'm glad the snow blows over, and doesn't settle on the roof. If it did, I'm afraid the canvas would sag down awfully, or the oars break."
"How will we sleep to-night?" asked Jim.
"Well," said Aleck, "I think we must all sleep in the boat somehow. Katy and you can lie on the straw in the stern-sheets, as usual, and Tug and I will bunk in somewhere for'ard. If we had plenty of wood to keep the fire going, it would be comfortable out here, but we must economize. If this snow keeps on, I don't know when—"
"Supper!" called Katy, and Aleck didn't finish what he was saying; but they all felt a little more serious about their situation. Though Jim objected, Aleck ordered him to put out every bit of the fire, and perched up in the boat they ate their supper by the light of the lantern.
"It's precious lucky we found this straw in the cabin," said Tug, as he sat upon it, with a tin cup of coffee in one hand, and in the other a sandwich made of two pieces of cold johnny-cake and a slice of bacon.
"That's cool! The luck is that Kate had the good sense to make us bring it. I know two young fellows who objected."
"I know three," Katy spoke up. "Fair play. You sneered at me at first, Mr. Captain, as much as anybody. You needn't play goody-goody over the rest of them."
"Go in, Katy!" they both cried. "Give it to him! He was going to leave every bit behind—and the rushes too."
"Well, well," pleaded Aleck, "I know now it was a good idea, and I'm not always so—"
"—big a fool as you look, eh?" exclaimed Tug, giving them all a laugh at the face made by the tall fellow, who was thus cheated out of his smooth apology.
"Never you mind; I'll get even with you before long."
Then the Captain took out his watch and wound it. Holding it in his hand he said: "Now it's my turn. I'll give you merry jesters just four minutes to finish your supper and make your beds. Then I blow out the lantern. Oil is precious."
Chapter XII.
Snowed Under
Table of Contents
There was a roguish twinkle in the Captain's eye, as though oil was not so precious but that they might have burned a few more drops of it; but an order was an order, and everybody was quite ready for darkness when it came, except Tug.
Then, how pitchy it was, and how the wind sung and whizzed over their rough-edged shield of ice, now and then catching the border of the ill-stayed tent and giving it a furious flap, as though about to throw it over! But weariness and warmth—for often snowy nights are not so cold as clear ones—closed ears as well as eyes, and when they awoke it was gray light in the tent, and half-past seven o'clock in the morning.
Katy was the first one to peep over the gunwale of the boat, though Aleck was already awake.
"Is the place full of snow?" he asked.
"No, but the canvas sags a good deal."
"Well, you keep under your blankets till Tug and I—get out of this, mate!—have cleared up the floor a little, and built a fire. I'm afraid we won't get away from here to-day."
After breakfast the two larger lads crawled over the wall, sinking up to their waists in the snow as they stepped off. Struggling out, they climbed up a little way upon the crest of the hummock, where it had been swept clear of snow by the wind, which had now subsided; but nothing could be seen through the veil of thick-flying flakes except the dirty gray of their canvas roof and the thin wisps of smoke that curled upward from beneath it. All else was pure white, sinking on every side into a circle of foggy storm. Around the outer side of the boat and the end of the house drifts had been heaped up even on to the edge of the canvas, so that their house had become a cave between the ice and the snow-bank.
"It's snug enough," said Tug.
"Yes, but I should hate to starve to death or freeze there, all the same," Aleck replied.
"But it ain't very cold—and—and—say! we've lots of food, haven't we?"
"Enough for about ten days, if we put ourselves on precious short rations; but most of it—the flour and bacon and so on—must be cooked, and this takes fire, and fire needs fuel, which is just what we haven't got. If we should use every bit of wood there is except the boat and sledge, there wouldn't be enough to cook our food for ten days. Besides, though it isn't cold now, it's likely to turn mighty cold after this snow-storm, and then we must have a fire, or freeze."
"But we could get ashore back at the Point in a day's travel. Or, for that matter, the south shore can't be far off, though we can't see it through this fearful storm."
"If we had clear ice it would be all right, but how can we travel in this snow? It can't be less than two feet deep everywhere for miles and miles. You and I might go a little way, but Katy and The Youngster couldn't budge twenty steps. It's really a serious scrape we have brought ourselves into; and we ought to have thought about this before we started. Talk about Dr. Kane! He never was worse off in the arctic regions than we're likely to be right here in a day or two, unless something happens."
Aleck certainly was very down-hearted, and his companion did not seem much disposed to "brace him up," as he would have expressed it. He could only reply, in an equally discouraged voice,
"I don't see what can happen out here—for good."
"Nor I. Let's go in; it's no use standing here in the storm. But, mind you, no word of all this to the others yet."
All day long the snow sifted down in fine, dense flakes that piled up higher and higher around their house, though there was enough wind to keep it from collecting on the roof, which was very fortunate. They sat in the boat, half nestling in the straw; told stories; made Tug tell them everything he could think of about animals and shooting; invented puzzles, Aleck setting some hard sums; mended clothes—this, of course, was Katy's amusement; and guessed at conundrums. Here Jim outshone all the rest. He was sharper with his answers than any of them, and finally proposed the following:
"Ebenezer Mary Jane, spell it with two letters?"
They knit their brows over it, pronounced it impossible to solve, and gave it up.
"I-t, it," says Jim, and carried off the honors.
Tired of this, they listened while Katy read from the precious book of Norwegian stories, and then chapter after chapter out of the little red Testament.
"'Twouldn't be a bad scheme for some raven to bring us food," said Tug, thoughtfully. "I reckon Elisha's wilderness wasn't a worse one than this ice-plain."
"The Eskimos, Dr. Kane writes, eat the raven himself sometimes, in their snow-deserts, which Elisha wouldn't have done on any account, I suppose."
"No. That would have been like Æsop's fable of killing the goose that laid the golden eggs."
"Yes, so it would," Katy responded; "but the Eskimos have lots of other birds to eat—auks and guillemots, and eider-ducks, and mollemokes."
"But they're on the sea, where those birds live in enormous flocks, like our wild pigeons up in the pine woods—millions of 'em!" Tug exclaimed, with outstretched arms. "No such a thing on our lake after the blackbirds leave the marshes."
"Except owls," interposed Jim; "and we can't eat them."
"I feel as though even an owl-stew wouldn't be bad about now," Aleck replied.
Nevertheless, when lunch-time came, both the big boys vowed they were not a bit hungry, and refused to eat. Katy took only a cracker, but Jim ate three crackers and the last bit of the cold ham, picking the bone so clean that, big as it was, Rex, who was frightfully hungry, could get little comfort out of it, though he gnawed at it nearly all the afternoon. Then Tug smashed it for him, and gave him another try, which he appreciated highly.
"Poor Rex!" said Katy, with a sigh. "Travellers get so badly off they have to kill and eat their dogs sometimes"—Rex stopped crunching, and looked up with a glance of alarm at this—"and if we should—"
"What a grand time Rex would have at his own bones!" interrupted Tug—a joke the utter absurdity of which wrinkled the faces that had become straight into hearty laughter. Towards evening a fire was built, which used the last of the sticks and one of the box-covers before the biscuits could be baked in the skillet, the ham fried, and tea made.
"I'm 'fraid it won't be long before I shall have to try the little stove," said Katy.
"I had no idea we were so near the end," Aleck muttered, under his breath.
The meal that evening was a very dull one, and if they did not go to sleep at once after they had gone to bed, certainly there was little fun-making among the weather-bound prisoners. Aleck said afterwards he thought he slept about an hour that night, and Katy was sure she didn't really get soundly asleep at all; but it is difficult to lie awake all night, though your rest may be so broken that you think in the morning you have never once lost your knowledge of what was going on.
Chapter XIII.
Saved From Starvation
Table of Contents
When they arose next morning the air was much lighter, for it was no longer snowing. Breaking their way out after breakfast, Aleck and Tug climbed to the crest of the hummock above the house, where pretty soon they were joined by Katy and Jim, anxious to get a look abroad. There was not much satisfaction in this, though. On all sides stretched an unbroken area of white—a spotless expanse of new snow such as you never can see on land, for there was nothing to break the colorless monotony, except where the hummock stretched away right and left, half buried, and as white as the rest, save at a few points where crests of upturned ice-blocks stood above the drifts.
"There is a higher point a little way over there," said Aleck to Tug; "let's go across, and see if it will show us anything new."
"Mayn't we come?" asked Jim.
"No, Youngster, stay with Katy. It would be a useless journey for you, and we'll soon be back."
And off they went, floundering up to their waists much of the time.
"Jim," says Katy, "I see, just beyond the hut"—pointing in the direction opposite to that in which the lads had gone—"a space under the edge of the hummock where the ice seems pretty clear. Understand? And look! don't you see that long, dark line there? I wonder what it can be? Let us go and find out. We can get along easily enough after a few steps."
Jim strode ahead, and stamped down a path for Katy through the snow that lay between their house and the clear space of ice that had been swept by the eddy under the hummock, until, a moment later, they were both running along upon a clean floor towards the object they had seen. Now they could make it out clearly; and at the first discovery Jim tossed his cap high in the air and gave a hurrah, in which the girl joined, wishing she too had a cap to throw up. What do you suppose it was that had so excited and gladdened them? Can't you guess?
A log of wood frozen into the ice!
"Now we can have all the fire we want."
"And I can keep the coffee hot for the second cup."
Then they looked at one another, and laughed and clapped their hands again. Were two children ever before made so happy by the simple finding of a log?
Just then they heard Aleck's voice:
"Hallo-o-o! Where are you?"
Jim jumped up, and was about to shout back, but his sister threw her hand over his mouth.
"Stop, Jimkin! Let them look for us, and have the fun of being surprised by our great discovery."
So both kept quiet, and let the boys shout. By and by they saw their heads bobbing over the drift, and presently Tug came running towards them, with Aleck close behind.
"Why didn't you answer? Didn't you hear us? Hello! Whoop—la! Wood, or I'm a Dutchman!" and all echoed his wild shout, and tried to imitate his dance, until the joy was bumped out of them by sudden falls on the slippery ice.
It was a tree trunk of oak, that had been floating about, frozen into the ice, above the surface of which fully half of it was to be seen. The stubs of the roots were towards them, while the upper end of the tree, which had been a large one, was lost in a drift more than forty feet distant.
"There is enough good wood here," said Aleck, "to keep us warm for two months, if we don't waste it; and we ought to be very thankful."
"Then let's have a fire right away!" Jim exclaimed.
"All right, Youngster," was the Captain's response. "Fetch the axe, and we'll soon light up."
When Jim had disappeared, Katy asked her brother what he had seen.
"Nothing," was the reply. "And it would just be impossible to move half a mile a day in this snow. It's one of the deepest falls I ever saw. We've got to stay here, for all I see, till it melts, or crusts over, or blows away, or something else happens."
"Well, we have plenty of fuel now."
"Yes, but we can't live on oak—though we might on acorns. But here comes Jimkin. Let's say no more about it now, Katy."
As the chips flew under Tug's blows, Katy gathered an armful, and hastened back to kindle a fire, while Jim and Aleck busied themselves in clearing a good path, and in hauling the hand-sled from under the boat, where it had been jammed into the drift out of the way. By the time it was ready Tug had chopped a sled-load of wood, and they hauled it to the house. It had been very awkward climbing over their wall of boxes, but they had been afraid to move any part of it, for fear of throwing down the snow which had banked it up and made the place so tight and warm. However, there was one box which must shortly be opened in order to get at more provisions; so it was carefully moved, and the wood piled in its place, leaving a low archway underneath, through which they could crawl on their hands and knees.
"That's just like an igloo," said Katy.
"What's an 'igloo'?"
"An Eskimo house made of frozen snow, in the shape of a dome, and entered by a low door, just like this one. By the way, are you getting hungry?"
"Yes; bring us something to eat."
They went back to their chopping. Pretty soon Katy came running out, bringing some crackers, a little hard cheese, and the last small jar of jelly—"just for a taste," she explained. Then she broke out with her story:
"Oh, boys, there's a whole lot of little birds—white and brown—around the house. They seem to like to get near the smoke. I'm going to throw out some crumbs."
"Yes, do," said Tug, eagerly, "and I'll get my gun."
"What? to shoot them! Oh, no."
"But they will make good eating."
"Ye-e-s, I suppose so," agreed the kind-hearted girl; "but I hate to have them shot."
"It's hard, I know," Aleck said, sympathizing more with his sister than with the birds, I fear; "but we need everything we can get. It may be a great piece of good-fortune that they have come, and—Hold up, Tug; aren't you afraid if you shoot at them they will be scared away for good?"
"No fear of that," was the answer; "and we have no other way. Come along, Katy, and keep Rex quiet."
Luncheon was stuffed in their pockets, and all hastened towards the house.
There they still were—several flocks of birds resembling sparrows, but larger than any common sparrow, and white; so white, in fact, that they could only be seen at all against the snow by glimpses of a few brown and black feathers on their backs. In each flock, however, there were one or two of a different sort, easily distinguishable by their darker plumage and rusty brown heads. Tug said they were Lapland longspurs, and had pretty much the same habits as their numerous associates. The whole flock of birds was very restless, constantly rising and settling, but showed no disposition to go away, and took little alarm at the four figures that stealthily approached.
"What are they?" whispered Aleck to Tug.
"White snow-flakes, or snow-buntings," he whispered back. "Mighty good eating."
Creeping quietly into the house, Tug took his shot-gun out of the boat and hastily loaded it, but with great care to see that the priming was well up in the nipple and a good cap on. Then he slung over his shoulders his shot-pouch and powder-horn—a short, black, well-polished horn of buffalo, of which he was very proud, for it had been a curiosity in Monore—and begged them all to stay in the house and let him alone, unless he called to them, and, above all, to keep the dog inside.
This said, he crawled forward out of the low doorway, holding his gun well in front of him, and the other three sat down to wait for the result.
Scarcely a minute had passed before a sharp report was heard, and a little thud upon the canvas roof. At this sound Rex leaped up, and was greatly excited. His ears were raised, his eyes flashed, and he gave several short, quick barks. But Aleck had twisted his fingers in the dog's mane, and forced him to drop down and keep quiet.
Very soon afterwards there rang out a second report, and again, after time enough to reload, a third. Then the sportsman's voice was heard calling, and all ran out to see how many he had bagged.
"A SHARP REPORT WAS HEARD."
Chapter XIV.
The Arctic Visitors
Table of Contents
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