Troop One of the Labrador by Dillon Wallace

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"We'll cook un out here, sir," David agreed.

"'Tis more fun to cook here," Jamie suggested.

"Very well. When it's ready you may bring it in and we'll eat on the
table. Lem will probably be awake by that time and he'll want
something too. Stew the goose so that there'll be broth, and we'll
give some of it to Lem to drink. You'll have to go to Fort Pelican
without me. I'll have to stay here and take care of Lem. If the wind
comes up, and I think it will, you may get a start after dinner," and
Doctor Joe returned to the cabin to watch over his patient.

The goose was plucked. David split a stick of wood, and with his
jack-knife whittled shavings for the fire. The knife had a keen edge,
for David was a born woodsman and every woodsman keeps his tools
always in good condition, and the shavings he cut were long and thin.
He did not cut each shaving separately, but stopped his knife just
short of the end of the stick, and when several shavings were cut,
with a twist of the blade he broke them from the main stick in a
bunch. Thus they were held together by the butt to which they were
attached. He whittled four or five of these bunches of shavings, and
then cut some fine splints with his axe.

David was now ready to light his fire. He placed two sticks of wood
upon the ground, end to end, in the form of a right angle, with the
opening between the sticks in the direction from which the wind came.
Taking the butt of one of the bunches of shavings in his left hand, he
scratched a match with his right hand and lighted the thin end of the
shavings. When they were blazing freely he carefully placed the thick
end upon the two sticks where they came together, on the inside of the
angle, with the burning end resting upon the ground. Thus the thick
end of the shavings was elevated. Fire always climbs upward, and in an
instant the whole bunch of shavings was ablaze. Upon this he placed
the other shavings, the thin ends on the fire, the butts resting upon
the two sticks at the angle. With the splints which he had previously
prepared arranged upon this they quickly ignited, and upon them larger
sticks were laid, and in less than five minutes an excellent cooking
fire was ready for the pot.

Before disjointing the goose, David held it over the blaze until it
was thoroughly singed and the surface of the skin clear. Then he
proceeded to draw and cut the goose into pieces of suitable size for
stewing, placed them in the kettle, and covered them with water from
Lem's spring.

In the meantime Andy cut a stiff green pole about five feet in length.
The thick end he sharpened, and near the other end cut a small notch.
Using the thick, sharpened end like a crowbar, he drove it firmly into
the ground with the small end directly above the fire. Placing a stone
between the ground and sloping pole, that the pole might not sag too
low with the weight of the kettle, he slipped the handle of the kettle
into the notch at the small end of the pole, where it hung suspended
over the blaze.

Preparing a similar pole, and placing it in like manner, Andy filled
the tea-kettle and put it over the fire to heat for tea.

"I'm thinkin'," suggested David as he dropped four or five thick
slices of pork into the kettle of goose, "'twould be fine to have hot
bread with the goose."

"Oh, make un! Make un!" exclaimed Jamie.

"Aye," seconded Andy, "hot bread would go fine with the goose."

Andy fetched the flour up from the boat and David dipped about a
quart of it into the mixing pan. To this he added four heaping
teaspoonfuls of baking-powder and two level teaspoonfuls of salt.
After stirring the baking-powder and salt well into the flour, he
added to it a heaping cooking-spoonful of lard--a quantity equal to
two heaping tablespoonfuls. This he rubbed into the flour with the
back of the large cooking spoon until it was thoroughly mixed. He now
added water while he mixed it with the flour, a little at a time,
until the dough was of the consistency of stiff biscuit dough.

The bread was now ready to bake. There was no oven, and the frying-pan
must needs serve instead. The interior of the frying-pan he sprinkled
liberally with flour that the dough might not stick to it. Then
cutting a piece of dough from the mass he pulled it into a cake just
large enough to fit into the frying-pan and about half an inch in
thickness, and laid the cake carefully in the pan.

With a stick he raked from the fire some hot coals. With the coals
directly behind the pan, and with the bread in the pan facing the
fire, and exposed to the direct heat, he placed it at an angle of
forty-five degrees, supporting it in that position with a sharpened
stick, one end forced into the earth and the tip of the handle resting
upon the other end. The bread thus derived heat at the bottom from the
coals and at the top from the main fire.

"She's risin' fine!" Jamie presently announced.

"She'll rise fast enough," David declared confidently. "There's no
fear of that."

There was no fear indeed. In ten minutes the loaf had increased to
three times its original thickness and the side nearer the ground took
on a delicate brown, for the greater heat of a fire is always
reflected toward the ground. David removed the pan from its support,
and without lifting the loaf from the pan, moved it round until the
brown side was opposite the handle. Then he returned the pan to its
former position. Now the browned half was on the upper or handle side,
while the unbrowned half was on the side near the ground, and in a few
minutes the whole loaf was deliciously browned.

While the bread was baking David drove a stick into the ground at one
side and a little farther from the fire than the pan. When the loaf
had browned on top to his satisfaction he removed it from the pan and
leaned it against the stick with the bottom exposed to the fire, and
proceeded to bake a second loaf.

"Let me have the dough that's left," Jamie begged.

"Aye, take un if you likes," David consented. "There'll be too little
for another loaf, whatever."

Jamie secured a dry stick three or four feet long and about two inches
in diameter. This he scraped clean of bark, and pulling the dough into
a rope as thick as his finger wound it in a spiral upon the centre of
the stick. Then he flattened the dough until it was not above a
quarter of an inch in thickness.

On the opposite side of the fire from David, that he might not
interfere with David's cooking, he arranged two stones near enough
together for an end of the stick to rest on each. Here he placed it
with the dough in the centre exposed to the heat. As the dough on the
side of the stick near the fire browned he turned the stick a little
to expose a new surface, until his twist was brown on all sides.

"Have some of un," Jamie invited. "We'll eat un to stave off the
hunger before dinner. I'm fair starved."

David and Andy were not slow to accept, and Jamie's crisp hot twist
was quickly devoured.

The kettle of stewing goose was sending forth a most delicious
appetizing odour. David lifted the lid to season it, and stir it with
the cooking spoon. Jamie and Andy sniffed.

"U-m-m!" from Jamie.

"Oh, she smells fine!" Andy breathed.

"Seems like I can't wait for un!" Jamie declared.

"She's done!" David at length announced.

"Make the tea, Andy."

Using a stick as a lifter David removed the kettle of goose from the
fire, while Andy put tea in the other kettle, which was boiling,
removing it also from the fire.

"You bring the bread along, Jamie, and you the tea, Andy," David
directed, turning into the cabin with the kettle of goose.

Lem had just awakened from a most refreshing sleep, and when he
smelled the goose he declared:

"I'm hungrier'n a whale."

Doctor Joe laid claim also to no small appetite, an appetite, indeed,
quite superior to that described by Lem.

"A whale!" he sniffed. "Why, I'm as hungry as seven whales! Seven,
now! Big whales, too! No small whales about _my_ appetite!"

The three boys laughed heartily, and David warned:

"We'll all have to be lookin' out or there won't be a bite o' goose
left for anybody if Doctor Joe gets at un first!"

Doctor Joe arranged a plate for Lem, upon which he placed a choice
piece of breast and a section of one of David's loaves, which proved,
when broken, to be light and short and delicious. Then he poured Lem a
cup of rich broth from the kettle, and while Lem ate waited upon him
before himself joining the boys at the table.

"How are you feeling, Lem?" asked Doctor Joe when everyone had
finished and the boys were washing dishes.

"My head's a bit soggy and I'm a bit weak, and there's a wonderful
pain in my right shoulder when I moves un," said Lem. "If 'tweren't
for my head and the weakness and the pain I'd feel as well as ever I
did, and I'd be achin' to get after that thief Indian Jake. As 'tis
I'll bide my time till I feels nimbler."

"Do you think you could let me fuss around that shoulder a little
while?" Doctor Joe asked. "Does it hurt too badly for you to bear it?"

"Oh, I can stand un," said Lem. "Fuss around un all you wants to,
Doctor Joe. You knows how to mend un and patch un up, and I wants un
mended."

Doctor Joe called Andy to his assistance with another basin of warm
water, in which, as previously, he dissolved antiseptic tablets,
explaining to the boys the reason, and adding:

"If a wound is kept clean Nature will heal it. Nothing you can apply
to a wound will assist in the healing. All that is necessary is to
keep it clean and keep it properly bandaged to protect it from
infection."

"Wouldn't a bit of wet t'baccer draw the soreness out?" Lem suggested.

"No! No! No!" protested Doctor Joe, properly horrified. "Never put
tobacco or anything else on a wound. If you do you will run the risk
of infection which might result in blood poisoning, which might kill
you."

"I puts t'baccer on cuts sometimes and she always helps un," insisted
Lem.

"It's simply through the mercy of God, then, and your good clean
blood, that it hasn't killed you," declared Doctor Joe.

From his kit Doctor Joe brought forth bandages and gauze and some
strange-looking instruments, and turned his attention to the shoulder.
Lem gritted his teeth and, though Doctor Joe knew he was suffering,
never uttered a whimper or complaint.

An examination disclosed the fact that the bullet had coursed to the
right, and Doctor Joe located it just under the skin directly forward
of the arm pit. Though it was necessarily a painful wound, he was
relieved to find that no vital organ had been injured, and he was able
to assure Lem that he would soon be around again and be as well as
ever.

When the bullet was extracted Doctor Joe examined it critically,
washed it and placed it carefully in his pocket. It proved to be a
thirty-eight calibre, black powder rifle bullet. Doctor Joe had no
doubt of that. He had made a study of firearms and had the eye of an
expert.

"It's half-past two, boys. A westerly breeze is springing up, and I
think you'd better go on to Fort Pelican," Doctor Joe suggested. "I'll
give you a note to the factor instructing him to deliver all the
things to you. You'll be able to make a good run before camping time.
Stop in here on your way back."

The boys made ready and said good-bye, spread the sails, and were soon
running before a good breeze. Doctor Joe watched them disappear round
the island, and returning to Lem's bedside asked:

"Lem, do you know what kind of a rifle Indian Jake carried?"

"I'm not knowin' rightly," said Lem. "'Twere either a forty-four or a
thirty-eight. 'Twere he did the shootin'. Nobody else has been comin'
about here the whole summer. I'm not doubtin' he's got my silver fox,
and I'm goin' to get un back _whatever_. He'd never stop at shootin'
to rob, but he'll have to be quicker'n I be at shootin', to keep the
fur!"

"When are you expecting Mrs. Horn and the boys back?" asked Doctor
Joe.

"This evenin' or to-morrow whatever," said Lem. "They've been away
these five days gettin' the winter outfit at Fort Pelican."

If Indian Jake were guilty, it was highly probable that he would take
prompt steps to flee the country. He could not dispose of the silver
fox skin in the Bay, for all the local traders had already seen and
appraised it, and they would undoubtedly recognize it if it were
offered them. Indian Jake would probably plunge into the interior,
spend the winter hunting, and in the spring make his way to the St.
Lawrence, where he would be safe from detection.

Doctor Joe made these calculations while he sat by the bedside, and
his patient dozed. He was sorry now that he had not sent the boys back
to The Jug with a letter to Thomas explaining what had occurred. All
the evidence pointed to Indian Jake's guilt, and there could be little
doubt of it if it should prove that the half-breed carried a
thirty-eight fifty-five rifle. Thomas would know, and he would take
prompt action to prevent Indian Jake's escape with the silver fox
skin. Should it prove, however, that Indian Jake's rifle was of
different calibre, he should be freed from suspicion.

It was dusk that evening when the boat bearing Eli and Mark and Mrs.
Horn rounded the island. Doctor Joe met them. They had seen the boys
and had received from them a detailed account of what had happened,
and Mrs. Horn was greatly excited. Her first thought was for Lem, and
she was vastly relieved when she saw him, as he declared he did not
feel "so bad," and Doctor Joe assured her he would soon be around
again and as well as ever.

Then there fell upon the family a full realization of their loss. The
silver fox skin that had been stolen was their whole fortune. The
proceeds of its sale was to have been their bulwark against need. It
was to have given them a degree of independence, and above all else
the little hoard that its sale would have brought them was to have
lightened Lem's burden of labour during his declining years.

Eli Horn was a big, broad-shouldered, swarthy young man of few words.
For an hour after he heard his father's detailed story of Indian
Jake's visit to the cabin, he sat in sullen silence by the stove.
Suddenly he arose, lifted his rifle from the pegs upon which it rested
against the wall, dropped some ammunition into his cartridge bag, and
swinging it over his shoulder strode toward the door.

"Where you goin', Eli?" asked Lem from his bunk.

"To hunt Indian Jake," said Eli as he closed the door behind him and
passed out into the night.

CHAPTER VI

THE TRACKS IN THE SAND

A smart south-west breeze had sprung up. White caps were dotting the
Bay, and with all sails set the boat bowled along at a good speed.

David held the tiller, while Andy and Jamie busied themselves with
their handbooks. They were an hour out of Horn's Bight when David
sighted the Horn boat beating up against the wind. Drawing within
hailing distance he told them of the accident.

Mrs. Horn, greatly excited, asked many questions. David assured her
that her husband's injuries were not serious, nevertheless she was
quite certain Lem lay at death's door.

"'Tis the first time I leaves home in most a year," she lamented. "I
were feelin' inside me 'twere wrong to go and leave Lem alone. And
now he's gone and been shot and liker'n not most killed."

"'Tis too bad to make Mrs. Horn worry so. I'm wonderfully sorry,"
David sympathized, as the boats passed beyond speaking distance.
"She'll worry now till they gets home, and the way Lem ate goose I'm
thinkin' he ain't hurt bad enough to worry much about he."

"They'll get there to-night whatever," said Andy. "'Tis the way of
Mrs. Horn to worry, even when we tells she Lem's doin' fine."

"I'm wonderin' and wonderin' who 'twere shot Lem," said David.
"Whoever 'twere had un in his heart to do murder."

"Whoever 'twere looked in through the window and saw Lem with the fine
silver fox on the table and sets out to get the fox," reasoned Andy.
"The shootin' were done through the window where there's a pane of
glass broke out."

"I sees where there's a pane of glass out," said David. "'Twas not
fresh broke though."

"No, 'twere an old break," Andy agreed. "I goes to look at un, and I
sees fresh tracks under the window where the man stands when he
shoots."

"Tracks!" exclaimed David. "I never thought to look for tracks now! I
weren't thinkin' of that! You thinks of more things than I ever does,
Andy."

"I weren't thinkin' of tracks either," said Andy, disclaiming credit
for their discovery. "Whilst you bakes the bread I just goes to look
where the window is broke, and when I'm there I sees the
strange-lookin' tracks."

"Strange, now! How was they strange?" asked Jamie excitedly, scenting
a deepening mystery.

"They was made with boots with _nails_ in the bottom of un," explained
Andy. "They was nails all over the bottom of them boots, and they was
big boots, them was. They made big tracks--wonderful big tracks."

"'Tis strange, now! Did you trace un, Andy? Did you see what way the
tracks goes?" asked David.

"'Twere only under the window where the ground were soft and bare of
moss that the tracks showed the nails. I tracks un down though to
where they comes in a boat and the boat goes again," Andy explained.
"The tracks were a day old, and down by the water the tide's been in
and washed un away. Whoever 'twere makes un were beyond findin'
whatever. They were goin' away, I'm thinkin', right after they shoots
Lem and takes his silver."

"Did you tell Doctor Joe about the tracks?" asked David.

"No, I weren't thinkin' to tell he when we goes in to eat, and he
weren't wantin' us in before that fearin' we'd wake Lem. The tracks
weren't of much account whatever. The folk that shot Lem were leavin'
in a boat and we couldn't track the boat to find out who 'twere."

A drizzling rain began to fall before they made camp that night. It
was too wet and dreary under the dripping trees for an open camp fire.
The stove was therefore brought into service and set up in the tent,
and there they cooked and ate their supper by candle-light.

On a cold and stormy night there is no article in the camp equipment
more useful than a little sheet-iron stove. With its magic touch it
transforms a wet and dismal tent into the snuggest and cosiest and
most comfortable retreat in the whole world. Outside the wind was now
dashing the rain in angry gusts against the canvas, and moaning
drearily through the tree tops. Within the fire crackled cheerily. The
tent was dry and snug and warm. The bed of fragrant balsam and spruce
boughs, the smell of the fire and the soft candle-light combined to
give it an indescribable atmosphere of luxury.

In the morning the weather had not improved. The wind had risen during
the night, and was driving the rain in sheets over the Bay. David went
outside to make a survey, and when he returned he reported:

"'Twill be a nasty day abroad."

"Let's bide here till the rain stops," suggested Jamie.

"The wind's fair, and if she keeps up and don't turn too strong we'll
make Fort Pelican by evenin' whatever, if we goes," David objected.

"'Twon't be so bad, once we're out and gets used to un," said Andy.

"No, 'twon't be so bad," urged David. "The wind may shift and fall
calm, when the rain's over, and if we bides here we'll lose time in
gettin' to Fort Pelican. I'm for goin' and makin' the best of un."

"I won't mind un," agreed Jamie, stoutly.

"I got grit to travel in the rain, and we wants to make a fast cruise
of un."

It was "nasty" indeed when after breakfast they broke camp and set
sail. In a little while they were wet to the skin, and it was
miserably cold; but they were used enough to the beat of wind and rain
in their faces, and all declared that it was not "so bad" after all.
To these hardy lads of The Labrador rain and cold was no great
hardship. It was all in a day's work, and scudding along before a good
breeze, and looking forward to a good dinner in the kitchen at Fort
Pelican, and to a snug bed at night, they quite forgot the cold and
rain.

During the morning the wind shifted to the westward, and before noon
it drew around to the north-west. With the shift of wind the rain
ceased, and the clouds broke. Then Andy lighted a fire in the stove,
boiled the kettle and fried a pan of salt pork. Hot tea, with bread
dipped in the warm pork grease, warmed them and put them in high
spirits.

"'Tis fine we didn't bide in camp," remarked David as he swallowed a
third cup of tea. "With this fine breeze we'll make Fort Pelican
to-night, whatever."

"I'm fine and warm now," declared Jamie, "but 'twas a bit hard to face
the rain when we starts this marnin'."

"'Tis always the thinkin' about un that makes things hard to do,"
observed David.

"Things we has to do seems wonderful hard before we gets at un, but
mostly they're easy enough after we tackles un. The thinkin'
beforehand's the hardest part of any hard job."

The sun broke out between black clouds scudding across the sky. The
wind was gradually increasing in force. By mid-afternoon half a gale
was blowing, a heavy sea; was running, and the old boat, heeling to
the gale, was in a smother of white water.

"We're makin' fine time!" shouted David, shaking the spray from his
hair.

"We'll sure make Fort Pelican this evenin' early," Andy shouted back.

"We'll not make un!" Jamie protested. "The wind's gettin' too strong!
We'll have to go ashore and make camp!"

"The boat'll stand un," laughed David. "She's a sturdy craft in a
breeze."

"I'm afeared," said Jamie.

"'A scout is brave,'" quoted Andy.

"'Tisn't meant for a scout to be foolish," Jamie insisted. "I'm
afeared of bein' foolish."

"You was braggin' of havin' grit," Andy taunted.

"I has grit and a stout heart," Jamie proudly asserted, "but there's
no such need of haste as to tempt a gale. 'Tis time to lie to and
camp."

David's answer was lost in the smother of a great roller that chased
them, and breaking astern nearly swept him from the tiller. When the
lads caught their breath there was a foot of sea in the bottom of the
boat.

"Bail her out!" bellowed David, shaking the water from his eyes.

"Jamie's right! 'Tis blowin' too high for comfort!" shouted Andy, as
he and Jamie, each with a kettle, bailed. "We'd better not risk goin'
on! Find a lee to make a landin', Davy."

"'Tis against reason not to take shelter!" piped Jamie.

"Fort Pelican's only ten miles away!" David shouted back in protest.
"We'll soon make un in this fine breeze!"

The boat was riding on her beam ends. White horses breaking over her
bow sent showers of foam her whole length. A sudden squall that nearly
capsized her roused David suddenly to their danger.

"Reef the mains'l!" he shouted.

"Make for the lee of Comfort Island!" sputtered Andy through the
spray, as he and Jamie sprang for the mainsail to reef it.

"Make for un!" echoed Jamie. "'Tis against reason to keep goin'."

The wind shrieked through the rigging. Another great roller all but
swamped them. The sudden fury of the wind, the ever higher-piling
seas, and the rollers that had so nearly overwhelmed the boat brought
to David a full sense of their peril. He had been foolhardy and
headstrong in his determination to continue to Fort Pelican. He
realized this now even more fully than Andy and Jamie.

David was a good seaman and fearless, with a full measure of faith in
his skill. Now that his eyes were open to the peril in which he had
placed them, he knew that all the skill he possessed and perhaps more
would be required to take them safely into shelter.

Comfort Island with its offer of snug harbour lay a half mile to
leeward. David brought the boat before the wind, and headed directly
for the island.

Great breakers, pounding the high, rockbound shores of Comfort Island,
and booming like cannon, threw their spray a hundred feet in the air,
enveloping the island in a cloud of mist.

Stretching away from the island for a mile to the westward was a rocky
shoal known as the Devil's Arm. At high tide, in calm weather, it
might be crossed, but now it was a great white barrier of roaring
breakers rising in mighty geysers above the sea.

To the eastward of the island was a mass of black reefs known as the
Devil's Tea Kettle. The Devil's Tea Kettle was always an evil place.
Now it was a great boiling cauldron whose waters rose and fell in a
seething white mass.

It was quite out of the question to round the Devil's Arm and beat
back against the wind to the lee of the island. There was a narrow
passage between the Devil's Tea Kettle and the island. If they could
make this passage it would be a simple matter to fall in behind the
island to shelter and safety.

All of these things David saw at a glance. It was a desperate
undertaking, but it was the only chance, and he held straight for the
passage. If he could keep the boat to her course, he would make it. If
a sudden squall of wind overtook them the leeway would throw them
upon the island breakers and they would be swallowed up in an instant
and pounded to pieces upon the rocks.

Over and over again David breathed the prayer: "Lord, take us through
safe! Lord, take us through safe!" His face was set, but his nerves
were iron. Andy and Jamie, tense with the peril and excitement of the
adventure, crouched in the bottom of the boat. As they drew near the
island, Jamie shouted encouragingly:

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