Troop One of the Labrador by Dillon Wallace

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"Keep your grit, and a stout heart like a man, Davy!" but the roar of
breakers drowned his voice, and David did not hear.

"Is you afraid, Jamie?" Andy yelled in Jamie's ear.

"Aye," answered Jamie, "but I has plenty of grit."

He who knows danger and meets it manfully though he fears it, is
brave, and Jamie and all of them were brave.

The boat was in the passage at last. David, every nerve tense, held
her down to it. On the right seethed the Devil's Tea Kettle, sending
forth a continuous deafening roar. On the left was Comfort Island with
a boom! boom! of thundering breakers smashing against its high, sullen
bulwarks of black rocks. The boat was so near that spray from the
breakers fell over it in a shower.

[Illustration: ON THE RIGHT SEETHED THE DEVIL'S TEA KETTLE]

It was over in a moment. The Devil's Tea Kettle, with all its loud
threats, was behind them. The boat shot down along the shore, David
swung to port, and they were safe in the quiet waters to the lee of
the island.

"Thank the Lord!" said David reverently, as he brought the little
craft to and the sail flapped idly.

"'Twere a close shave," breathed Jamie.

"A wonderful close shave," echoed Andy.

"You had grit," said Jamie. "You has plenty o' grit, Davy--and a stout
heart, like a man. 'Twere wonderful how you cracked her through!
There's nary a man on the coast could have done better'n that!"

"'Twere easy enough," David boasted with a laugh as he wiped the spray
from his face, and unshipping the rudder proceeded to scull the boat
into a natural berth between the rocks.

Hardly a breath of the gale raging outside reached them in their snug
little harbour. The boat was made fast with the painter to a ledge,
and the boys climed to the high rocky shore.

An excellent camping place was discovered a hundred yards back in a
grove of stunted spruce trees that had rooted themselves in the scant
soil that covered the rocks, and held fast, despite the Arctic blasts
that swept across the Bay to rake the island during the long winters.
Here the tent was pitched, and everything carried up from the boat and
stowed within to dry. Fifteen minutes later the tent stove was
crackling cheerily and sending forth comfort to the drenched young
mariners. "There'll be no hurry in the marnin'," said David when they
had eaten supper and lighted a candle. "We'll stay up to-night till we
gets the outfit all dried, and if we're late about un we'll sleep a
bit later in the marnin', to make up. We'll make Fort Pelican in an
hour, or two hours _what_ever, if we has a civil breeze in the
marnin'."

"We'll not be gettin' away from Fort Pelican to-morrow, will we?"
asked Andy.

"We'll take the day for visitin' the folk and hearin' the news, and
start back the marnin' after," suggested David.

It was near midnight when they crawled into their beds to drop into a
ten-knot sleep, and they slept so soundly than none of them awoke
until they were aroused by the sun shining upon the tent the next
morning.

Breakfast was prepared and eaten leisurely. There was no hurry. The
wind had fallen to a moderate stiff breeze, and Fort Pelican, through
the narrows connecting Eskimo Bay with the sea outside, was almost in
sight.

When the dishes were washed Andy and Jamie took down the tent, while
David shouldered a pack and preceded them to the place where they had
moored the boat the previous evening. A few minutes later he came
running back, and in breathless excitement startled them with the
announcement:

"The boat's gone!"

"Gone where?" asked Andy incredulously.

"Gone! I'm not knowin' _where_!" exclaimed David.

"Has she been took?" asked Jamie, excitedly.

"Took!" said David. "The painter were untied and she were took!
There's tracks about of big boots with nails in un!"

Andy and Jamie ran down with David. No trace of the boat was to be
found.

In the earth above the shore were plainly to be seen the tracks of
two men wearing hobnailed boots.

"They's fresh tracks," declared David.

"Made this marnin'," Andy agreed. "They's the same kind of tracks as
the ones I see under Lem's window. Whoever 'twere made these tracks
shot Lem and took his silver."

"And now we're left here on the island with no way of gettin' off,"
said David.

"What'll we be doin'? How'll we ever get away?" asked Jamie in
consternation.

But that was a question none of them could answer.

CHAPTER VII

THE MYSTERY OF THE BOAT

The boys looked at each other in consternation. They were marooned on
a desolate, rocky, sparsely wooded island. Boats passed only at rare
intervals, and a fortnight, or even a month, might elapse before an
opportunity for rescue offered. Their provisions would scarcely last a
week, and the island was destitute of game.

"Whoever 'twere took the boat," Andy suggested presently, "were on the
island when we comes."

"Aye," David agreed, "and makin' for Fort Pelican. They been up as far
as Lem's and they's gettin' away with Lem's silver to sell un."

"'Tis strange boots they wears," said Jamie. "Strange boots them is
with nails in un."

"'Twere no man of The Labrador made them tracks," David declared.

"I never sees boots with nails in un," said Andy, "except the boots
the lumber folks wears over at the new camp at Grampus River."

"Aye," agreed David, "they wears un. When we goes over with Pop last
month when the big steamer comes I sees un. Plenty of un wears boots
with nails in."

"That's who 'twere took our boat!" said Andy. "'Twere men from the
Grampus River lumber camp."

"Let's track un and see where they were camped," suggested David.

The trail was easily followed. Here and there a footprint appeared
where soil had drifted in among the rocks above the shore. The trail
led them three hundred yards to the eastward, and then down into a
sheltered hollow just above the water's edge, where a small boat was
drawn up upon the shore.

"Here's a boat!" exclaimed Jamie, who had run ahead.

"A boat!" shouted David. "They left un and took our boat."

"And good reason!" said Jamie, who had reached the skiff. "The
bottom's half knocked out of un."

It was evident that the boat had been driven upon the rocks in making
a landing, and a jagged hole a foot square appeared in the bottom,
rendering it in that condition quite useless. Near by a tent had been
pitched, and there was no doubt that the men who had abandoned the
boat had been in camp for a day at least in the sheltered hollow.

The boys turned the boat over and examined the break.

"'Tis a bad place to mend," observed David.

"But we can mend un," declared Andy. "We can mend un by noon whatever,
and get to Fort Pelican this evenin'."

"I'm doubtin'," David shook his head. "'Twill take a day to mend un
whatever, and she'll be none too safe. 'Twill be hard to make un
water-tight."

"We can mend un," Andy insisted.

A close examination of the tracks disclosed the fact that there had
undoubtedly been two men in the party. They had reached the island
before the rain of two days before. This was disclosed by the fact
that some of the tracks were partly washed away by the rain, and the
earth was caked where the wind and sun had dried it afterwards.

Natives of the coast, as was the case with David and Jamie and Andy,
wore home-made sealskin boots in summer and buckskin moccasins in
winter. The sealskin boots had moccasin feet with one thickness of
skin, and were soft and pliable. None of them ever wore soled boots
that would admit of hobnails. It was plain to the boys, therefore,
that the men who made the tracks were not natives of the country.

Early in the summer a lumber company had begun the erection of a camp
at Grampus River, which lay twenty miles to the southward from The
Jug, and on the opposite side of Eskimo Bay. A steamship had brought
in men and supplies, and all summer men had been building camps and
preparing for lumbering operations during the coming winter.

It was the first steamer to enter the Bay, and its advent had been an
occasion of much curiosity on the part of the people. Many of them
made excursions to Grampus River to see the strangers at work. Thomas
had made such an excursion with David and Andy. Strange, rough,
blasphemous men they seemed to the God-fearing folk of the country.
These were the men wearing hobnailed boots of which David spoke, and
there was small doubt in the mind of the boys that the men who had
camped on the island and had stolen the boat were from the Grampus
River lumber camp.

It proved a tedious undertaking to repair and make seaworthy the
damaged boat. The trees on the island were, for the most part, small
gnarled spruce, twisted and stunted by the northern blasts which swept
the Bay. After some search, however, they discovered a white spruce
tree suitable for their purpose, with a trunk ten inches in diameter.
David felled it and cut from its butt a two-foot length. This he
proceeded to split into as thin slabs as possible. Then with their
jack-knives the boys began the tedious task of whittling the surfaces
of the slabs into smooth boards, first trimming them down to an inch
and a half in thickness with the axes.

"How'll we make un fast when we gets un done?" asked Jamie. "We has no
nails."

"I'm thinkin' of that," said David. "I'm not knowin' yet, but we'll
find some way."

"I've got a way," Andy announced. "I been thinkin' and thinkin' and I
found a way to make un fast."

"How'll you make un fast now without nails?" David asked expectantly.

"We'll tie un with spruce roots, like the Injuns puts their canoes
together," explained Andy. "We'll cut holes in each end of un in the
right place to tie un fast to the braces of the boat. We'll have to
make holes in the bottom of the boat each side of the braces for the
roots to come through so we can make un fast. That'll hold un. Then
when we've made un fast we'll caulk un up with spruce gum."

"Why can't we cut strips of sealskin off our sleepin' bags for strings
to tie un with?" suggested David. "'Twould be easier than makin'
spruce root strings, and quicker too, and the sealskin would be strong
and hold un tight."

"Yes, and soon's the sealskin gets wet she'll stretch," Andy objected.
"Then the boards would loosen up and let the water in."

"I never thought of the sealskin stretchin', but she sure would.
You're fine at thinkin' things out, Andy!" said David admiringly. "The
spruce roots won't stretch though. 'Tis a fine way to fix un now, and
she'll work. There's no doubtin' she'll work."

"'Twill take all day," Andy calculated, adding with pride, "but once
we gets un on they'll hold. I'll get the roots now and put un to
soak."

Andy dug around the white spruce tree and in a little while gathered a
sufficient quantity of long string-like roots. He scraped them and
then split them carefully with his knife. When they were split he
filled the big kettle with water from a spring, placed the roots in it
and put them over the fire to boil.

They all worked as hard as they could on the boards, and when dinner
time came David announced that the boards were smooth enough for their
purpose.

"Now all we'll have to do," said he as he sliced pork for dinner, "is
to make the holes in un and fasten un on."

"What were that now?" Jamie interrupted as a hoarse blast broke upon
the air.

"'Tis the steamer whistle!" David dropped the knife with which he was
slicing pork, and with Jamie and Andy at his heels ran to the top of
the highest rock on the island, where a wide view of the Bay lay
before them.

A mile away the lumber company's big steamer was feeling its way
cautiously toward the west, bound inward to the Grampus River camps.
The boys waved their caps and shouted at the top of their lungs, but
no one on the steamer appeared to see them. It was not until the great
strange vessel had become a mere speck in the distance that they
turned back to the preparation of dinner.

"They didn't see us," said David in disappointment.

"We're not wantin' to go to Grampus River, whatever," Andy cheered.
"We're goin' to Fort Pelican when we has the boat fixed up, and she's
'most done."

After dinner they settled to the task. Two of the narrow boards which
they had prepared were required to cover the break, which occurred
between two braces. The edges of the boards where they were to join
were whittled straight, that the joint might be made as tight as
possible. Then David held them in place while Andy marked the position
for the holes through which the spruce root thongs were to pass.

Four holes were to be cut in each end of both boards, and holes to
match in the bottom of the boat, and in an hour they were neatly
reamed out. When Andy removed his thongs from the water they were
quite soft and pliable, and proved to be strong and tough.

Andy lashed the boards into place, threading the thongs through the
holes and drawing them round the brace several times at each place
where provision had been made for them. Thus a dozen thicknesses of
fibre bound the boards to the brace at each set of holes.

It was now necessary to collect the spruce gum and prepare it. Gum was
plentiful enough, and in half an hour they had collected enough to
half fill the frying-pan. To this was added a little lard, and the gum
and grease melted over the fire and thoroughly mixed.

"What you puttin' the grease in for?" asked Jamie curiously.

"So when we pours un in the cracks and she hardens she won't be
brittle and crack," David explained.

The hot mixture was now poured into the joints between the boards and
at all points where the new boards came into contact with the boat,
and into the holes where the lashings occurred. In a few minutes it
hardened, and the boys surveyed their work with pride and
satisfaction.

"Now we'll try un," said David, "and see if she leaks."

"She'll never leak where she's mended," asserted Andy.

They slipped the boat into the water and Andy's prediction proved
true. Not a drop of water oozed through the joints, and the boat was
as snug and tight and seaworthy as any boat that ever floated.

"'Tis too late to start to-night," said David, "but we'll be away at
crack o' dawn in the marnin', whatever. 'Tis fine they left the sail
and oars."

And at crack of dawn in the morning the boys were away. The day was
misty and disagreeable, but David and Andy knew the way as well as you
and I know our city streets. They rounded the Devil's Arm, a friendly
tide helped them through the narrows, and in mid-forenoon the low
white buildings of Fort Pelican appeared in misty outline through the
fog. A few minutes later they swung alongside the Fort Pelican jetty,
and there, to their amazement, firmly tied to the jetty, lay their own
big boat.

No one about the Post could explain whence the boat had come or how it
reached the jetty. The Post servants stated that they had not noticed
it until after the departure of the lumber steamer. They had
recognized it as Thomas Angus's boat, for in that country men know
each other's boats as our country folk know their neighbours' horses.

The lumber ship had arrived on the morning of the gale, and had
anchored in the harbour awaiting the arrival of one of the company's
officers on the mail boat. The mail boat had arrived the previous
morning, and both the mail boat and lumber ship had steamed away
shortly after the mail boat's arrival. Many lumbermen had been ashore.
If any of them had come in the boat they had mingled among the others
and had departed either on the lumber ship, which had gone up the Bay
to Grampus River, or on the mail boat to Newfoundland.

"I'm thinkin'," said David, "whoever 'twere took Lem's silver fox and
our boat went to Newfoundland to sell the fur."

"There's no doubtin' _that_," agreed Andy.

CHAPTER VIII

TRAILING THE HALF-BREED

Eli Horn paused in the enclosed porch to shoulder his provision pack,
left there upon his arrival home earlier in the evening. He was
passing from the porch when Doctor Joe opened the door.

"Eli," said Doctor Joe, closing the door behind him, "may I have a
word with you?"

"Aye, sir," and Eli stopped.

"I just wished to speak a word of warning," said Doctor Joe quietly.
"Be cautious, Eli, and do nothing you'll regret. Don't be too hasty.
We suspect Indian Jake, but none of us knows certainly that he shot
your father or took the silver fox skin."

"There's no doubtin' he took un! Pop says he took un, and he knows.
I'm goin' to get the silver if I has to kill Injun Jake."

Eli spoke in even, quiet tones, but with the dogged determination of
the man trained to pit his powers of endurance against Nature and the
wilderness. He gave no suggestion of boastfulness, but rather of the
man who has an ordinary duty to perform, and is bent upon doing it to
the best of his ability.

"Don't you think you had better wait and start in the morning? It's a
nasty night to be out," Doctor Joe suggested. "'Twill be hard to make
your way to-night with the wind against you as well as the dark. If
you wait until morning it will give us time to talk things over."

"I'll not stop till I gets the silver," Eli stubbornly declared, "and
I'll get un or kill Injun Jake."

"See here, Eli," Doctor Joe laid his hand on Eli's arm, "your father
says he was not shot until sundown. Indian Jake was at our camp at
Flat Point within the hour after sundown. He never could have paddled
that distance against a down wind in an hour. The boys and I were four
hours coming over here from Flat Point Camp, and I know Indian Jake
could not have covered the distance in anything like an hour."

"'Twere some trick of his! He shot un and he took the silver!" Eli
insisted. "Good-bye, sir. I've got to be goin' or he'll slip away from
me."

"Be careful, Eli," Doctor Joe pleaded. "Don't shoot unless you're
forced to do so to protect yourself."

"'Twill be Injun Jake'll have to be careful," returned Eli as he
strode away in the darkness, and Doctor Joe knew that Eli had it in
his heart to do murder.

The night was pitchy black and a drizzling rain was falling, but Eli
had often travelled on as dark nights, and he was determined. He chose
a light skiff rigged with a leg-o'-mutton sail. The wind was against
him and with the sail reefed and the mast unstepped and stowed in the
bottom of the boat, he slipped a pair of oars into the locks and with
strong, even strokes pulled away, hugging the shore, that he might
take advantage of the lee of the land.

Presently the drizzle became a downpour, but Eli, indifferent to wind
and weather, rowed tirelessly on. There was a dangerous turn to be
made around Flat Point. Here for a time he lost the friendly shelter
of the land, and continuous and tremendous effort was called for in
the rough seas; but, guided by the roar of the breakers on the shore,
he compassed it and presently fell again under the protection of the
land.

With all his effort Eli had not progressed a quarter of the distance
toward The Jug when dawn broke. With the first light he made a safe
landing, cut a stick of standing dead timber, chopped off the butt,
and splitting it that he might get at the dry core, whittled some
shavings and lighted a fire. His provision bag was well filled. No
Labradorman travels otherwise. A kettle of hot tea sweetened with
molasses, a pan of fried fat pork and some hard bread (hardtack)
satisfied his hunger.

The wind was rising and the rain was flying in blinding sheets, but
the shore still protected him, and the moment his simple breakfast was
eaten Eli again set forward. Presently, however, another long point
projected out into the Bay to force him into the open. He turned about
in his boat and for several minutes studied the white-capped seas
beyond the point.

"I'll try un," he muttered, and settled again to his oars.

But try as he would Eli could not force his light craft against the
wind, and at length he reluctantly dropped back again under the lee
of the land and went ashore.

"There'll be no goin' on to-day," he admitted. "I'll have to make camp
whatever."

Under the shelter of the thick spruce forest where he was fended from
the gale and drive of the rain, he cut a score of poles. One of them,
thicker and stiffer than the others, he lashed between two trees at a
height of perhaps four feet. At intervals of three or four inches he
rested the remaining poles against the one lashed to the trees,
arranging them at an angle of fifty-five degrees and aligning the
butts of the poles evenly upon the ground. These he covered with a
mass of boughs and marsh grass as a thatching. The roof thatched to
his satisfaction, he broke a quantity of boughs and with some care
prepared a bed under the lean-to.

His shelter and bed completed, he cut and piled a quantity of dry logs
at one end of the lean-to. Then he felled two green trees and cut the
trunks into four-foot lengths. Two of these he placed directly in
front of the shelter and two feet apart, at right angles to the
shelter. Across the ends of the logs farthest from his bed he piled
three of the green sticks to serve as a backlog, and in front of
these lighted his fire. When it was blazing freely he piled upon it,
and in front of the green backlogs, several of the logs of dry wood.

Despite the rain, the fire burned freely, and presently the interior
of Eli's lean-to was warm and comfortable. He now removed his
rain-soaked jacket and moleskin trousers and suspended them from the
ridge-pole, where they would receive the benefit of the heat and
gradually dry.

Stripped to his underclothing, Eli crouched before the fire beneath
the front of the shelter. At intervals he turned his back and sides
and chest toward the heat and in the course of an hour succeeded in
drying his underclothing to his satisfaction. His moleskin trousers
were still damp, but he donned them, and renewing the fire he
stretched himself luxuriously for a long and much needed rest.

CHAPTER IX

ELI SURPRISES INDIAN JAKE

When Eli awoke late in the afternoon the rain had ceased, but the wind
was blowing a living gale. There was a roar and boom and thunder of
breakers down on the point and echoing far away along the coast. The
wind shrieked and moaned through the forest.

Under his shelter beneath the thick spruce trees, however, Eli was
well enough protected. He renewed the fire, which had burned to
embers, and prepared dinner. The storm that prevented him from
travelling would also hold Indian Jake a prisoner. This thought
yielded him a degree of satisfaction.

He took no advantage of the leisure to reconsider and weigh the
circumstantial evidence against Indian Jake. He had accepted it as
conclusive proof of the half-breed's guilt and he had already
convicted him of the crime. Once Eli had arrived at a conclusion his
mind was closed to any line of reasoning that might tend to
controvert that conclusion. He prided himself upon this characteristic
as strength of will, while in reality it was a weakness. But Eli was
like many another man who has enjoyed greater opportunities in the
world than ever fell to Eli's lot.

Once Eli had set himself upon a trail he never turned his back upon
the object he sought or weakened in his determination to attain it.
His object now was to overtake Indian Jake and have the matter out
with the half-breed once and for all. Well directed, this trait of
unyielding determination is an excellent one. It is the foundation of
success in life if the object sought is a worthy one. But in this
instance Eli's objective was not alone the recovery of the silver fox
skin, though this was the chief incentive. Coupled with it was a
desire for vengeance, prompted by hate, and vengeance is the child of
the weakest and meanest of human passions.

When Eli had eaten he shouldered his rifle and strolled back into the
forest. Presently he flushed a covey of spruce grouse, which rose from
the ground and settled in a tree. Flinging his rifle to his shoulder,
he fired and a grouse tumbled to the ground. He fired again, and
another fell. The living birds, with a great noise of wings, now
abandoned the tree and Eli picked up the two victims. He had clipped
their heads off neatly. This he observed with satisfaction. His rifle
shot true and his aim was steady. What chance could Indian Jake have
against such skill as that?

Eli plucked the birds immediately, while they were warm, for delay
would set the feathers, and his game being sufficient for his present
needs, he returned to his bivouac on the point.

It was mid-afternoon the following day before the wind and rain had so
far subsided as to permit Eli to turn the point and proceed upon his
journey. Even then, with all his effort, the progress he made against
the north-west breeze was so slow that it was not until the following
forenoon that he reached The Jug. Thomas saw him coming and was on the
jetty to welcome him.

"How be you, Eli?" Thomas greeted. "I'm wonderful glad to see you.
Come right up and have a cup o' tea."

"How be you, Thomas? Is Injun Jake here?"

"He were here," said Thomas, "but he only stops one day to help me
get the outfit ready and then he goes on in his canoe to hunt bear up
the Nascaupee River whilst he waits there for me to go to the Seal
Lake trails. You want to see he?"

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