Chapter 2: On The Ridges

Late in the afternoon Willet went to sleep and Robert and Tayoga watched, although, as the hunter had done, they depended more upon ear than eye. They too heard now and then the faint report of distant shots from the hunt, and Robert’s heart beat very fast, but, if the young Onondaga felt emotion, he did not show it. At twilight, they ate a frugal supper, and when the night had fully come they rose and walked about a little to make their stiffened muscles elastic again.

“The hunters have all gone back to the camp now,” said Tayoga, “since it is not easy to pursue the game by dusk, and we need not keep so close, like a bear in its den.”

“And the danger of our being seen is reduced to almost nothing,” said Robert.

“It is so, Dagaeoga, but we will have another fight to make. We must strive to keep ourselves from freezing. It turns very cold on the mountains! The wind is now blowing from the north, and do you not feel a keener edge to it?”

“I do,” replied Robert, sensitive of body as well as mind, and he shivered as he spoke. “It’s a most unfortunate change for us. But now that I think of it we’ve got to expect it up among the high mountains toward Canada. Shall we light another fire?”

“We’ll talk of that later with the Great Bear when he comes out of his sleep. But it fast grows colder and colder, Dagaeoga!”

Weather was an enormous factor in the lives of the borderers. Wilderness storms and bitter cold often defeated their best plans, and shelterless men, they were in a continual struggle against them. And here in the far north, among the high peaks and ridges, there was much to be feared, even with official winter yet several weeks away.

Robert began to rub his cold hands, and, unfolding his blanket, he wrapped it about his body, drawing it well up over his neck and ears. Tayoga imitated him and Willet, who was soon awakened by the cold blast, protected himself in a similar manner.

“What does the Great Bear think?” asked the Onondaga.

The hunter, with his face to the wind, meditated a few moments before replying.

“I was testing that current of air on my face and eyes,” he said, “and, speaking the truth, Tayoga, I don’t like it. The wind seemed to grow colder as I waited to answer you. Listen to the leaves falling before it! Their rustle tells of a bitter night.”

“And while we freeze in it,” said Robert, whose imagination was already in full play, “the French and Indians build as many and big fires as they please, and cook before them the juicy game they killed today.”

The hunter was again very thoughtful.

“It looks as if we would have to kindle a fire,” he said, “and tomorrow we shall have to hunt bear or deer for ourselves, because we have food enough left for only one more meal.”

“The face of Areskoui is turned from us,” said Tayoga. “We have done something to anger him, or we have failed to do what he wished, and now he sends upon us a hard trial to test us and purify us! A great storm with fierce cold comes!”

The wind rose suddenly, and it began to make a sinister hissing among all the passes and gorges. Robert felt something damp upon his face, and he brushed away a melting flake of snow. But another and another took its place and the air was soon filled with white. And the flakes were most aggressive. Driven by the storm they whipped the cheeks and eyes of the three, and sought to insert themselves, often with success, under their collars, even under the edges of the protecting blankets, and down their backs. Robert, despite himself, shivered violently and even the hunter was forced to walk vigorously back and forth in the effort to keep warm. It was evident that the Onondaga had told the truth, and that the face of Areskoui was in very fact turned from them.

Robert awaited the word, looking now and then at Willet, but the hunter hung on for a long time. The leaves fell in showers before the storm, making a faint rustling like the last sigh of the departing, and the snow, driven with so much force, stung his face like hail when it struck. He was anxious for a fire, and its vital heat, but he was too proud to speak. He would endure without complaint as much as his comrades, and he knew that Tayoga, like himself, would wait for the older man to speak.

But he could not keep, meanwhile, from thinking of the French and Indians beside their vast heaps of glowing coals, fed and warmed to their hearts’ content, while the three lay in the dark and bitter cold of the wilderness. An hour dragged by, then two, then three, but the storm showed no sign of abating. The sinister screaming of the wind did not cease and the snow accumulated upon their bodies. At last Willet said:

“We must do it.”

“We have no other choice,” said Tayoga. “We have waited as long as we could to see if Areskoui would turn a favoring face upon us, but his anger holds. It will not avail, if in our endeavor to escape the tomahawk of Tandakora, we freeze to death.”

The fire decided upon, they took all risks and went about the task with eagerness. Ordinary men could not have lighted it under such circumstances, but the three had uncommon skill upon which to draw. They took the bark from dead wood, and shaved off many splinters, building up a little heap in the lee of a cliff, which they sheltered on the windward side with their bodies. Then Willet, working a long time with his flint and steel, set to it the sparks that grew into a blaze.

Robert did not stop with the fire. Noticing the vast amount of dead wood lying about, as was often the case in the wilderness, he dragged up many boughs and began to build a wall on the exposed side of the flames. Willet and Tayoga approving of the idea soon helped him, and three pairs of willing hands quickly raised the barrier of trunks and brush to a height of at least a yard.

“A happy idea of yours, Robert,” said the hunter. “Now we achieve two ends at once. Our wall hides the glow of the fire and at the same time protects us in large measure from the snow and wind.”

“I have bright thoughts now and then,” said Robert, whose spirits had returned in full tide. “You needn’t believe you and Tayoga have all of ‘em. I don’t believe either of you would have ever thought of this fine wooden wall. In truth, Dave, I don’t know what would become of you and Tayoga if you didn’t have me along with you most all the time! How good the fire feels! The warmth touches my fingers and goes stealing up my arms and into my body! It reaches my face too and goes stealing down to meet the fine heat that makes a channel of my fingers! A glorious fire, Tayoga! I tell you, a glorious fire, Dave! The finest fire that’s burning anywhere in the world!”

“The quality of a fire depends on the service it gives,” said the hunter.

“Dagaeoga has many words when he is happy,” said the Onondaga. “His tongue runs on like the pleasant murmur of a brook, but he does it because Manitou made him that way. The world must have talkers as well as doers, and it can be said for Lennox that he acts as well as talks.”

“Thanks, I’m glad you put in the saving clause,” laughed Robert. “But it’s a mighty good thing we built our wooden wall. That wind would cut to the bone if it could get at you.”

“The wind at least will keep the warriors away,” said Tayoga. “They will all stay close in the camp on such a night.”

“And no blame to them,” murmured the hunter. “If we weren’t in the Indian country I’d build our own fire five times as big. Now, Robert, suppose you go to sleep.”

“I can’t, Dave. You know I slept all the morning, but I’m not suffering from dullness. I’m imagining things. I’m imagining how much worse off we’d be if we didn’t have flint and steel. I can always find pleasure in making such contrasts.”

But he crouched down lower against the cliff, drew his blanket closer and spread both hands over the fire, which had now died down into a glowing mass of coals. He was wondering what they would do on the morrow, when their food was exhausted. They had not only the storm to fight, but possible starvation in the days to come. He foresaw that instead of discovering all the plans of the enemy they would have a struggle merely to live.

“Areskoui must truly be against us, Tayoga,” he said. “Who would have predicted such a storm so early in the season?”

“We are several thousand feet above the sea level,” said Willet, “and that will account for the violent change. I think the wind and snow will last all tonight, and probably all tomorrow.”

“Then,” said Robert, “we’d better gather more wood, build our wall higher and save ample fuel for the fire.”

The other two found the suggestion good, and all three acted upon it promptly, ranging through the forest about them in search of brushwood, which they brought back in great quantities. Robert’s blood began to tingle with the activity, and his spirits rose. Now the snow, as it drove against his face, instead of making him shiver, whipped his blood. He was the most energetic of the three, and went the farthest, in the hunt for fallen timber.

One of his trips took him into the mouth of a little gorge, and, as he bent down to seize the end of a big stick, he heard just ahead a rustling that caused him with instinctive caution to straighten up and spring back, his hand, at the same time, flying to the butt of the pistol in his belt. A figure, tall and menacing, emerged from the darkness, and he retreated two or three steps.

It was his first thought that a warrior stood before him, but reason told him quickly no Indian was likely to be there, and, then, through the thick dusk and falling snow, he saw a huge black bear, erect on his hind legs, and looking at him with little red eyes. The animal was so near that the lad could see his expression, and it was not anger but surprise and inquiry. He divined at once that this particular bear had never seen a human being before, and, having been roused from some warm den by Robert’s advance, he was asking what manner of creature the stranger and intruder might be.

Robert’s first impulse was one of friendliness. It did not occur to him to shoot the bear, although the big fellow, fine and fat, would furnish all the meat they needed for a long time. Instead his large blue eyes gave back the curious gaze of the little red ones, and, for a little space, the two stood there, face to face, with no thought of danger or attack on the part of either.

“If you’ll let me alone I’ll let you alone,” said the lad.

The bear growled, but it was a kindly, reassuring growl.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was looking for wood, not for bear.”

Another growl, but of a thoroughly placid nature.

“Go wherever you please and I’ll return to the camp with this fallen sapling.”

A third growl, now ingratiating.

“It’s a cold night, with fire and shelter the chief needs, and you and I wouldn’t think of fighting.”

A fourth growl which clearly disclosed the note of friendship and understanding.

“We’re in agreement, I see. Good night, I wish you well.”

A fifth growl, which had the tone of benevolent farewell, and the bear, dropping on all fours, disappeared in the brush. Robert, whose fancy had been alive and leaping, returned to the camp rather pleased with himself, despite the fact that about three hundred pounds of excellent food had walked away undisturbed.

“I ran upon a big bear,” he said to the hunter and the Onondaga.

“I heard no shot,” said Willet.

“No, I didn’t fire. Neither my impulse nor my will told me to do so. The bear looked at me in such brotherly fashion that I could never have sent a bullet into him. I’d rather go hungry.”

Neither Willet nor Tayoga had any rebuke for him.

“Doubtless the soul of a good warrior had gone into the bear and looked out at you,” said the Onondaga with perfect sincerity. “It is sometimes so. It is well that you did not fire upon him or the face of Areskoui would have remained turned from us too long.”

“That’s just the way I felt about it,” said Robert, who had great tolerance for Iroquois beliefs. “His eyes seemed fully human to me, and, although I had my pistol in my belt and my hand when I first saw him flew to its butt, I made no attempt to draw it. I have no regrets because I let him go.”

“Nor have we,” said Willet. “Now I think we can afford to rest again. We can build our wall six feet high if we want to and have wood enough left over to feed a fire for several days.”

The two lads, the white and the red, crouched once more in the lee of the cliff, while the hunter put two fresh sticks on the coals. But little of the snow reached them where they lay, wrapped well in their blankets, and all care disappeared from Robert’s mind. Inured to the wilderness he ignored what would have been discomfort to others. The trails they had left in the snow when they hunted wood would soon be covered up by the continued fall, and for the night, at least, there would be no danger from the warriors. He felt an immense comfort and security, and by-and-by fell asleep again. Tayoga soon followed him to slumberland, and Willet once more watched alone.

Tayoga relieved Willet about two o’clock in the morning, but they did not awaken Robert at all in the course of the night. They knew that he would upbraid them for not summoning him to do his share, but there would be abundant chance for him to serve later on as a sentinel.

The Onondaga did not arouse his comrades until long past daylight, and then they opened their eyes to a white world, clear and cold. The snow had ceased falling, but it lay several inches deep on the ground, and all the leaves had been stripped from the trees, on the high point where they lay. The coals still glowed, and they heated over them the last of their venison and bear meat, which they ate with keen appetite, and then considered what they must do, concluding at last to descend into the lower country and hunt game.

“We can do nothing at present so far as the war is concerned,” said Willet. “An army must eat before it can fight, but it’s likely that the snow and cold will stop the operations of the French and Indians also. While we’re saving our own lives other operations will be delayed, and later on we may find Garay going back.”

“It is best to go down the mountain and to the south,” said Tayoga, in his precise school English. “It may be that the snow has fallen only on the high peaks and ridges. Then we’ll be sure to find game, and perhaps other food which we can procure without bullets.”

“Do you think we’d better move now?” asked Robert.

“We must send out a scout first,” said Willet.

It was agreed that Tayoga should go, and in about two hours he returned with grave news. The warriors were out again, hunting in the snow, and although unconscious of it themselves they formed an almost complete ring about the three, a ring which they must undertake to break through now in full daylight, and with the snow ready to leave a broad trail of all who passed.

“They would be sure to see our path,” said Tayoga. “Even the short trail I made when I went forth exposes us to danger, and we must trust to luck that they will not see it. There is nothing for us to do, but to remain hidden here, until the next night comes. It is quite certain that the face of Areskoui is still turned from us. What have we done that is displeasing to the Sun God?”

“I can’t recall anything,” said Robert.

“Perhaps it is not what we have done but what we have failed to do, though whatever it is Areskoui has willed that we lie close another day.”

“And starve,” said Robert ruefully.

“And starve,” repeated the Onondaga.