THE REBELLION OF THE DOGS
"He's like to run before we gets to he," shouted Toby, between bumps of the speeding sledge, "but I'm thinkin' the dogs'll catch he before he gets to open water if he tries gettin' away."
But the bear did not run. He rose upon his haunches, and looked upon the advancing dogs with apparent contempt, the monarch of the ice fields.
"He's a whopper!" exclaimed Charley, his heart beating double time, as Toby by means of the drag cautiously slackened the speed of the team, and at a safe distance came to a stop, with the dogs, eager to be at the bear, springing in their traces and emitting snarls and growls and little impatient yelps.
"Don't shoot till I gets the dogs clear!" warned Toby. "If he comes at un whilst they's in harness they won't have a chanst to dodge he!"
Toby threw the komatik upon its side, with its nose against an ice hummock as an anchorage, and observing this maneuver, the bear resumed all fours and began a retreat with a lumbering, but astonishingly rapid gait, toward the northward.
"Go after he and shoot!" Toby shouted, at the same time, with feverish haste, endeavouring to loosen his rifle from its lashings upon the komatik, and losing no time in unleashing the dogs.
The bear was already fifty yards away when Charley fired. It was not a long shot, but in his excitement he missed, and the report of the rifle did not, apparently, in any manner decrease or accelerate the bear's speed. Again Charley fired, aiming more carefully, and this time the bear stopped and bit at a wound in its flank. Taking advantage of the animal's pause, Charley ran toward it, and fired a third shot. Now the bear bit at its shoulder, and suddenly in mighty rage turned upon Charley and charged him.
A cold chill ran up and down his spine, and his hair stood upon end, when he saw the mighty hulk of the enraged beast coming at him. Again he fired, but on came the bear, and Charley turned and ran.
THE GREAT PAW SENT TOBY SPRAWLING.
In the meantime, Toby had extricated his rifle and was running to Charley's assistance. They were taking a direction at right angles to Toby, which gave him an excellent opening, and with careful aim he fired upon the bear.
The bear paused to bite at a fresh wound, and discovering a new enemy, turned upon Toby who fired again, but with no apparent effect. Hoping to plant a bullet in the bear's head, Toby held his ground. He threw the lever forward to eject the empty shell, and jerked it back to insert a fresh cartridge with undue haste, and to his consternation it jammed. He jerked at the lever, but it would not move. Beads of perspiration broke out upon his forehead. The bear was less than a dozen feet from him.
Toby dropped his gun and ran, but he knew he could not outdistance the furious animal at his heels. At that moment Charley's rifle rang out. The tip of the bear's great paw reached Toby and sent him sprawling, and as he fell the bear suddenly sank with a grunt like the dying exhaust of an engine.
"You got un! You got un!" exclaimed Toby, springing to his feet.
"I thought he was going to get you!" said Charley, all atremble.
"He just touched me!" Toby boasted. "'Tis the first white bear killed in these parts in two years, whatever!"
Toby and Charley gloated over their prize, and when they had examined the carcass, Toby declared that it was Charley's last shot, just behind the shoulder, that had killed it.
"My shots takes un too far for'ard, and all your shots hits un too far back, except one," Toby declared.
Nearly an hour was occupied in skinning the bear, and in packing and lashing the meat upon the komatik. While they packed the meat, the dogs were permitted to feast upon the offal, as their reward, and when all was ready they turned their faces again toward Pinch-In Tickle, quite elated with their success.
Travel now, with the heavily laden komatik, was slow, and the overfed dogs required constant urging. Completely engrossed with the capture and skinning of the bear, both Toby and Charley had quite forgotten about the unstable condition of the ice. Now they were aware that the wind was blowing considerably harder than when they had started. Charley was the first to speak of it.
"The wind has stiffened," said he with some concern. "The bear made us forget about the ice. Do you think it's all right?"
"That's what I'm thinkin' about." Toby looked worried. "We'll soon be knowin'. If the ice has gone abroad from the shore, we're in a worse fix than the bear had us in."
"What'll we do if it has?" asked Charley with a sinking heart.
"'Twill be a bad fix. 'Twill be a wonderful bad fix. I'm not knowin' how we'd be gettin' out of a fix like that. I'd be wishin' Dad was here to get us out of un. He's always findin' a way out of fixes. We won't be thinkin' about un till we finds out. Dad says folk worry more about things that don't happen than about things that do."
On they went in silence, tense with uncertainty, for another half hour. Charley was thinking about what Skipper Zeb had said about worry when they were in the camp at the Duck's Head, and Skipper Zeb's philosophy helped him to keep his courage.
"Ah!" Toby suddenly shouted to the dogs, and they came to a stop at the command. "She's gone abroad from the shore!" and he pointed at a long, black streak of water between the ice and the shore ahead.
"What'll we do?" asked Charley in a frightened voice. "Can't we get to land?"
"We'll try un to the west'ard," suggested Toby. "The ice'll hold the shore longer there. 'Tis only half as far from here as we've come from the p'int this side of Deer Harbour. There's a narrow place in the bay where I'm thinkin' the ice may clog and hold."
With this he shouted "Ooisht!" to the dogs, and breaking the komatik loose, "Ouk! Ouk! Ouk!" until they were pointing toward the opposite shore of the bay, and farther inland.
"And you runs ahead of the dogs now," suggested Toby, "'twill help un to work faster. I'll push un with the whip. Make toward the Capstan. That's that round hill you sees over there," and Toby pointed to a lonely mountain to the westward.
Charley set forth at a trot. His example, aided by Toby's threatening whip, accelerated the speed of the dogs perceptibly, and the shore began to loom up. But the sky had clouded, and presently a fine mist of snow shut out the Capstan, which was Charley's guide, and at last the entire shore line was clouded from view.
For some time the dogs had persisted in edging toward the right, which was seaward, though Toby held them to their course with the whip. After a little while he called to Charley to come back.
"I'm thinkin' you don't go straight since the snow comes and you can't see the hill," he explained. "I'll be goin' ahead for a bit and you drive."
"All right," agreed Charley. "I can drive the team, and you'll know the way better in the snow."
Still the dogs were obstinate. They at once recognized the change in drivers, and took advantage of Charley's inexperience. Charley used the whip, but he could not handle it as effectively as a driver should, and the dogs gave little heed to it. They insisted upon taking an angle to the right of Toby's trail, and Charley found that he could not straighten them out upon the trail.
In desperation he ran forward to the side of the team, with the whip handle clubbed, to compel obedience. Sampson showed his fangs, and snapped at Charley's legs. This was a signal for open rebellion on the part of the whole team. They came to a standstill, and faced him, showing their fangs, and one or two of them sprang at him, but were held in leash by their traces.
Toby, looking behind, discovered the situation and came running to Charley's assistance. Taking the whip from Charley he quickly had the mutinous dogs reduced to sullen submission.
"I'll not be goin' ahead of un again," said Toby. "'Tis not helpin' to make they go any. The dogs act wonderful queer. They won't follow like they always has."
Toby urged them forward. They whined and whimpered, and at last some of them lay down, and Toby was compelled to beat them into action.
It was directly after this that they came to open water. The boys looked at each other in consternation.
"What'll we do?" asked Charley.
"I'm not knowin'," confessed Toby. "The ice has gone abroad from the shore, and we're driftin' out to sea."
"Shall we be—lost?" asked Charley in dull terror.
"It may be she's just settled off from shore here," suggested Toby hopefully. "She may be holdin' fast up the bay above the narrows. We'll try un whatever."
He commanded the dogs to go on. They sprang to the traces, but turned to the right. Against their will, and with free use of the whip, he succeeded in swinging them to the left and up the wind. Reluctantly and slowly they moved. They seemed aware of their danger. They were dissatisfied.
At length Tinker, the leader, squat upon his belly. Toby cracked the whip over him with a command to go on, and he turned upon his back, paws in air, as though in meek appeal. Toby clipped him with the tip of the lash, and he sprang up, turning to the right, and Toby lashed him back into the course to the left. He gave no display of savagery, as did Sampson, but appeared to be beseeching his young master to do something his master could not understand.
The cold had grown intense. The wind had become a stiff gale. The air was filled with a blinding dust of snow, so thick that Tinker, the leader, could scarcely be seen from the komatik. The wind was in their face, and Toby and Charley and the dogs struggled against it as against an unseen wall. The ice was heaving with an under swell. Now the komatik would be climbing an incline, now dashing down another.
At last the dogs in sullen mutiny rebelled against further action. Tinker squatted upon the ice, and the other dogs followed his example, save Sampson, who faced about at Toby, snarling and showing his fangs. No beating could induce them to move ahead in the direction in which they had been traveling, though they made several attempts to swing about to the right.