IN THE WILDERNESS
Blindly groping about, the two boys located each other by the sounds of their voices.
"We mustn't get separated," said Fred. "That would be terrible. Oh, how my eyes hurt!"
"So do mine. It's just like once when some pepper blew in them. What shall we do?"
"I don't know. We must think. Wait a minute. I'll take my belt and fasten it to yours. Then we can't lose each other, and we'll have our hands free," for in their despair the two lads were holding each other's hands.
Fred held his gun between his knees that it might not sink down in the snow. Then he fastened his belt to Jerry's. Neither of the boys could see a foot in advance. It was just as if there was a black veil in front of their faces, and, though the sun shone brilliantly on the white snow, they could not distinguish it.
"Now what shall we do?" asked Jerry. "Have you any idea which way the camp is?"
"I remember that as we came away from it the wind was at our backs."
"Then if we walk with the wind in our faces we ought to get somewhere near it."
"That's so. Let's try it."
Stepping out cautiously, for they could not see where they set their feet, the boys advanced. It was like walking in the darkest night.
"Do you think they'll come to look for us?" asked Jerry.
"Perhaps; but they won't think we're in this plight until quite late, if it ever does occur to them. Then it will be dark, and they can't see our tracks in the dark."
"Maybe the Indians can."
"Perhaps; but I doubt it."
"Then what shall we do? If we have to stay out in the open all night we'll freeze to death. It's getting colder. I guess the sun must be going down."
"I'm afraid so," replied Fred. He felt that, in a measure, he was responsible for Jerry's plight, as he had been instrumental in organizing the expedition. It was getting much colder, and the wind was almost as cutting as a knife blade. It whipped stinging particles of snow into their faces, but they dared not turn their heads aside, as, if they did, they feared they would never get anywhere near camp.
"I have it!" cried Fred suddenly when they had proceeded cautiously some distance. "Why didn't we think of it before?"
"What?"
"Firing our guns! They may hear them in camp and come after us."
"That's so. Here goes!"
Jerry pointed his rifle in the air and pulled the trigger. The report, coming in that great stillness, sounded like a clap of thunder.
"We'll take turns at it, firing every five minutes, as near as we can judge," said Fred. "That ought to tell them something is wrong with us."
They put this plan into operation, walking slowly on in the intervals of firing as nearly in the direction of the camp as they could judge. They could see absolutely nothing save a sort of haze in front of their eyes, and, as the cold continued to increase, they knew the sun must have gone down.
"Can you see the Northern Lights?" asked Jerry.
"No. Can you?"
"Not a thing. Go on, it's your turn to shoot."
Following the report of Fred's gun they listened intently for an answering shot. None came. For an hour longer they walked on, firing by turns.
"I have only three more cartridges left," announced Jerry at length.
"And I have only two. This is getting serious. Maybe we're wandering away from the camp instead of toward it."
"If we are, and have to stay out in the open all night, we'll have to burrow down under the snow, the way the dogs do. I guess——"
"Hark! What's that?" asked Fred quickly.
"It's a shot!"
Fred quickly fired his rifle in answer.
"There it goes again!"
It was unmistakably a shot. Then Jerry fired, and again there came a response.
"Let's yell," suggested Fred, and they united their voices in a shout.
To their great relief they heard persons calling. The voices came nearer, and then they could distinguish Mr. Baxter's cry.
"Boys! Boys! Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.
"All right except that we're snow-blind!" replied Jerry.
"Oh, I feared you had been attacked by a pack of wolves, Jerry," said his father. "And, Fred, are you all right?"
"We're both blind!"
"Well, that will pass away. I should have warned you to wear snow goggles. I did not think you were going so far from camp, and I did not realize that the sun was so strong on the snow. We began to get worried about you a while ago, so Holfax and I started out after you. We heard your shots, and traced you by them. It's a good thing you had your guns. But come on, I'll lead you back to camp."
It did not take long to reach it, for the boys had been advancing in the right direction. They were warmed with many cups of hot tea, and after bathing their eyes in warm water their sight gradually came back, but they could not see well until the next morning.
"After this you must wear goggles; we all will," said Mr. Baxter. "Holfax has some, made from wood."
The goggles were queer affairs. They were merely pieces of wood, long enough to extend across the eyes, and wide enough to completely cover the optics. There was a narrow slit through which to look, an opening so narrow that only a little light penetrated through it. The goggles were fastened on with a piece of deer thong. Regular glasses, with metal rims, could not have been worn, as the great cold would have frozen them fast to the nose and face.
"We start through the great wilderness to-morrow," said Mr. Baxter to the boys in the tent that night. "I have been studying the map," he added, after listening to see that none of the Indians were walking too close outside the shelter. "I think we are on the right trail, though, of course, we are too far off to tell exactly. I have a plan, of which I have not told you yet."
"What is it?" asked Fred.
"I am going to get rid of all the Indian guides, save one, and he is Holfax. I know I can trust him. The others, especially Zank, I believe are thieves, and very dishonest."
"But can we get along with one?" asked Fred.
"Yes. Holfax says he can take the leading dog team, and, attaching the other dogs to the head sled, he can pilot them all. In this way, when we reach the treasure, only one Indian, and, I believe, an honest one, will know about it. Thus we will not run such a chance of being robbed."
"But what will you do with the three Indians you are going to discharge?" asked Jerry.
"They will go off to join a branch of their tribe, that is encamped not far from here. I have spoken to Holfax about it, and he says they will only be too glad to go, as the remainder of the journey is very difficult. I am going to pay them off when we camp to-morrow night, and then we will shift for ourselves."
"I hope we don't get lost again," remarked Fred.
"No; after this no one must leave camp," said Mr. Baxter. "We will make that a rule."
They started through the big wilderness the next day. The dogs, well rested, pulled the sleds at a good speed, though it was, most of the way, up a hard slope.
It was still very cold, and the travelers burrowed down in the piles of robes on the rear parts of the sleds. The Indians did not seem to mind it, though they did not have on as many garments as did the adventurers. Johnson suffered more than did any of the gold-seekers, for he was of a race that loves warmth. But he did not complain, and, when he felt too cold he got off, put on his snowshoes, and ran alongside. At times he would help pull the sleds up some steep hill.
When they made camp that night Mr. Baxter, through Holfax, as an interpreter, told the other three Indians he would no longer need their services. They seemed to take it as a matter of course, and their eyes shone greedily as they saw the bag of gold coins, from which Mr. Baxter took their pay. Only gold was used as money for the Indians.
"I hope they will have no trouble finding their tribe," said the leader of the expedition to Holfax.
"They know way," was the response. "They be in dis country many year."
"Well, give them plenty to eat, some tea, meat, and some matches to build a fire," added Mr. Baxter, for each Indian carried with him a simple camping outfit, consisting, for the most part, of a pot in which to make tea, and a frying pan to warm meat in over an open fire.
"Well, good-by," said Mr. Baxter, to the three who were leaving, though they did not understand very much English.
"Goo'-by," responded Zank, with a leer that struck Fred as being rather ugly. "Me see you 'gin, maybe."
"I don't believe so," said Mr. Baxter with a smile, but Fred thought of the whispered words between the man with the glass eye and the Indian. A vague feeling of uneasiness possessed the boy.