Blake's Burden Part 36

The stronger the party, the smoother the trail, and after what you've told me, I guess you can march."

"Where did you find the breed?" Benson asked. "Your chiefs at Regina don't allow you hired packers."

"They surely don't. He's a Hudson's Bay man, working his pa.s.sage.

Going back to his friends somewhere about Lake Winnipeg, and allowed he'd come south with us and take the cars to Selkirk. I was glad to get him; I'm not smart at driving dogs."

"We found it hard to understand the few Indians we met," said Harding.

"The farther north you go, the worse it must be. How will the fellows you left up yonder get on?"

The Sergeant laughed. "When we want a thing done, we can find a man in the force fit for the job. One of the boys I took up can talk to them in Cree or a.s.siniboine, and it wouldn't beat us if they spoke Hebrew or Greek. There's a trooper in my detachment who knows both."

Benson, who did not doubt this, turned to Private Walthew, whose face, upon which the firelight fell, suggested intelligence and refinement.

"What do you specialize in?"

"Farriery," answered the young man, who might have added that extravagance had cut short his career as veterinary surgeon in the old country.

"Knows a horse all over, outside and in," Sergeant Lane interposed. "I allow that's why they sent him when I asked for a good dog driver, though in a general way our bosses aren't given to joking. Walthew will tell you there's a difference between physicking a horse and harnessing a sledge team."

"It's marked," Walthew agreed with a chuckle. "When I first tried to put the traces on I thought they'd eat me. Even now I have some trouble, and I'll venture to remind my superior that he'd be short of some of his fingers if they didn't serve us out good thick mittens."

"That's right," said Lane good-humouredly. "I'm sure no good at dogs.

If you're going to drive them, you want to speak Karalit or French.

Plain English cussin's no blame use."

By and by Emile said that supper was ready, and the police watched their new acquaintances devour it with sympathetic understanding, for they had more than once covered long distances on very short commons in the Arctic frost. Afterwards they lighted their pipes, and Emile, being tactfully encouraged, told them in broken English stories of the barrens. These were so strange and gruesome that it was only because they had learned something of the wilds that Harding and his friends believed him. Had they been less experienced, they would have denied that flesh and blood could bear the things the half-breed calmly talked about. While he spoke there broke out behind the camp a sudden radiance which leaped from the horizon far up the sky. It had in it the scintillation of the diamond, for the flickering brilliance changed to evanescent blue and rose from pure white light. Spreading in a vast, irregular arc, it hung like a curtain, wavering to and fro and casting off luminous spears that stabbed the dark. For a time it blazed in transcendental splendour, then faded and receded, dying out with Unearthly glimmering far back in the lonely North.

"Now," said Lane with mild approval, "I allow that's pretty fine."

Blake smiled, but made no answer. He and his comrades were getting drowsy, and although a stinging wind swept the camp and the green wood burned badly, they were filled with a serene content. The keen bodily craving was satisfied, they had eaten and could sleep, while it looked as if their troubles were over. The dogs were obviously fit for travel, because they were still engaged in a vigorous quarrel over some caribou bones, the toil of the journey would be lightened by carrying their loads on the sledge, and the party was strong enough to a.s.sist any member of it whose strength might give way. There was no reason to apprehend any difficulty in reaching the settlements, and in their relief at the unexpected rescue their thoughts went no further. After the hunger and nervous strain they had borne, they were blissfully satisfied with their present ease. There would be time enough by and by to consider the future.

At length Sergeant Lane got up and shook the snow from his blanket.

"I've seen a better fire, boys, but I've camped with none at all on as cold a night," he said. "So far as I can figure, we have grub enough, but now there are three more of us we don't want to lose time. You'll be ready to pull out by seven in the morning."

They lay down in the most comfortable places they could find, though the choice was limited, and spent the night in comfort, though Harding was once awakened by a dog that crept up to him for warmth.

CHAPTER XXVII

A STARTLING DISCOVERY

It was getting light next morning when the reinforced party entered a belt of thicker timber where they first clearly realized the fury of the storm. The trees were small and sprang from a frozen muskeg so that they could not be uprooted, but the gale had snapped the trunks and laid them low in swaths. Even in the spots where some had withstood its force the ground was strewn with split and broken branches, to lee of which the snow had gathered in billowy drifts. The scene of ruin impressed the men, who were forced to make long rounds in search of a pa.s.sage for the sledge.

"About as fierce a blizzard as I remember," Sergeant Lane remarked.

"We were held up three days and thought ourselves lucky in making a ravine with a steep bank, but the wind couldn't have been quite so strong back north a piece. There'd have been two names less on the roster if we'd been caught down here."

Harding thought this was probable. He had had a protecting rock at his back, but there was no shelter in the valley from the storm that had levelled the stoutest trees. Even the four-footed inhabitants of the wilds could hardly have escaped, and as he stumbled among the wreckage he thought about the man whose footsteps they had seen near the Indian village. Unless he had found some secure retreat he must have had to face the fury of the gale, and Harding felt convinced that the man was Clarke. It was curious that he should have been living alone among the empty tepees, but Harding imagined that he was in some way accountable for the Indians' departure and wondered where he was going when he crossed the range. There was a mystery about the matter, and if an explanation could be arrived at it would be of interest to him and his friends. Even before Clarke had sent them into the muskeg when he knew it was practically impa.s.sable, Harding had entertained a deep distrust of him. He was, however, called upon to help in dragging the sledge over an obstacle, and the difficulties of the way afterwards occupied his attention.

By and by they found clearer ground and made good progress until late in the afternoon when, seeing a rocky spur running out from the hillside, they headed for it to look for a sheltered camping place.

There was still some daylight, but a cold wind had sprung up, blowing the loose snow into their faces, and when, as they neared the spur, the dogs swerved as if attracted by something, the half-breed struck the nearest beast and drove them on.

"That was curious," said Private Walthew. "It was old Cha.s.seur who led them off and he's not given to playing tricks."

"A dead mink or beaver in the snow," the Sergeant suggested. "I didn't notice anything, but they've a keen scent. Anyhow, let's get into camp."

They found a nook among the rocks and Emile loosed the dogs and threw them some frozen fish while the rest made supper. It was a heavy, lowering evening, and the bitter air was filled with the murmur of the spruces as the wind pa.s.sed over them. Though the light was fading, they kept their sharpness of outline, rising, black and ragged, from a sweep of chill, lifeless grey. When the meal was nearly finished, Lane looked round the camp.

"Where are the dogs?" he asked. "They're very quiet."

"I leaf zem la bas," said Emile, waving his hand towards a neighbouring hollow. Then moving a few paces forward he exclaimed: "Ah! les coquins!"

"Looks as if they'd bolted," Walthew remarked. "I think I know where to find them."

He left the camp with Emile and presently the others heard the half-breed threatening the dogs; then Walthew's voice reached them and there was a hoa.r.s.e and urgent tone in it. Springing up, they ran back along the trail and found Emile keeping off the dogs while Walthew bent over a dark object that lay half revealed in the clawed up snow. At first Harding saw only a patch or two of ragged fur that looked as if it belonged to an animal; then with a shock he caught the outline of a man's shoulder and arm. The rest of the party gathered round, breathless after their haste, and when Lane spoke there was grave authority in his voice.

"Give me a hand, boys. We have to get him out."

They did so with mingled compa.s.sion and reluctance, though Harding was sensible of a curious strained expectation, and soon the body lay clear of the snow. The dim light fell on the frozen face and Blake started.

"It's Clarke!" he cried.

"Sure," said Harding gravely. "I'm not surprised."

"Then you knew him?" Lane's tone was sharp.

"Yes," Benson interposed, "I knew him pretty well. He lived at Sweet.w.a.ter, where we're going. I can give you any particulars you want."

"I'll ask you later." The Sergeant knelt down and carefully studied the dead man's pose before he added: "Looks as if he'd been caught in the blizzard and died of exposure; but that's a thing I've got to ascertain. I'll want somebody's help in getting him out of this big coat."

None of them volunteered, but when Lane gave Walthew a sharp order Blake and Harding joined them and the latter afterwards held the fur coat. Blake noticed that he folded and arranged it on his arm with what seemed needless care, though he first turned his back upon the others. Lane was now engaged in examining the body and the others stood watching him, impressed by the scene. All round the narrow opening the spruces rose darkly against the threatening sky, and in its midst the Sergeant bent over the still form. It made a dark blot on the pale glimmer of the snow and the white patch of the face was faintly distinguishable in the fading light. The spruce tops stirred, shaking down loose snow, which fell with a soft patter, and the wind blew trails of it about.

"I can find nothing wrong," Lane said at last.

"Considering that you came across the man lying frozen after one of the worst storms you remember, what did you expect to find?" Harding asked.

"Well," said the Sergeant drily, "it's my duty to make investigations.

Though I didn't think it likely, there might have been a knife cut or a bullet hole. Now one of you had better bring up the sledge. We can't break this ground without dynamite, but there are some loose rocks along the foot of the spur."

The sledge was brought and Clarke gently placed on it, wrapped in his fur coat, after which they took the traces and started for the ridge, where they built up a few stones above the hollow in which they laid him. It was quite dark when they had finished, and Lane made a gesture of relief.

"Well," he said, "that's done and he'll lie safely there. Rough on him, but it's a hard country and many a good man has left his bones in it. I guess we'll get back to camp."

They crossed the snow in silence, trailing the empty sledge and for a time after they reached camp n.o.body spoke. Lane sat near the fire where the light fell upon the book in which he wrote with a pencil held awkwardly in his mittened hand, while Blake watched him and mused. He had no cause to regret Clarke's death, but he felt some pity for the man. Gifted with high ability he had, through no fault of his own, been driven out of a profession he was keenly interested in and made an outcast. His subsequent life had been a hard and evil one, but it had ended in a tragic manner and, what made this more impressive, Blake and his companions had narrowly escaped his fate. In spite of the cheerful fire, the camp had a lonely air, and Blake s.h.i.+vered as he glanced at the gleaming snow and dusky trees that shut it in. There was something in the desolate North that daunted him.

Harding's reflections also centred on the dead man, and he had food for thought. There was a mystery to be explained, and he imagined that he had a clue to it in his pocket, though he could not follow it up for the present. He waited with some anxiety until Lane closed his book.