“I’ll be like t’ travel faster than you do, Andy,” said David, pausing, “and when I gets to th’ clump o’ spruce I’ll put a fire on and boil th’ kettle, and wait, and there’ll be a good fire when you gets there.”
“And if I gets there first, I’ll put a fire on,” said Andy, by way of a challenge.
“You’ll never beat me there,” laughed David. “Your legs are too short.”
“You’ll see, now,” and Andy swung off at a trot along the southerly side of the marsh, while David turned to the northerly course.
That portion of the trail which Andy was to follow skirted the edge of the marsh for a distance of nearly two miles. Then in a circuitous course it wound for some three miles through a scant forest of gnarled, stunted black spruce. Beyond this, and a mile across another marsh, was the thick spruce grove which had been designated as their meeting point, and where they were accustomed to halt to boil their kettle and eat a hasty luncheon on their weekly tour.
The other end of the trail, which David had chosen, was longer by a mile. Its entire distance, from the place where the boys separated, to the clump of spruce trees, lay over exposed marshes. On windy days, with no intervening shelter, this open stretch was always cold and disagreeable, and there was never a time when they were not glad to reach the friendly shelter of the trees. It was usual, in traveling together, as they always had heretofore, to attend the traps on this end of the trail in the forenoon, and those on the end which Andy was now following, in the afternoon.
Though Andy’s legs were short, they were hard and sinewy and he swung along at a remarkably good pace. Now and again he stopped to examine a trap; then, breaking into a trot to make up the time lost, he hastened to the next trap. Thus the two miles to the edge of the timber were quickly laid behind him, and he entered the forest just as the sun, rising timidly in the Southeast, cast its first slanting rays upon the frozen world.
Andy stood for a little in the edge of the trees to get his breath and to watch the glorious lighting of the wilderness. The bushes, thick-coated with tiny frost prisms flashing and scintillating in the light as though encrusted with marvelously brilliant gems, were afire with sparkling color. Even the rime in the air caught the fire, and the marsh became a great, transparent opal, of wonderfully dazzling beauty.
“’Tis a fine world t’ live in,” said Andy to himself. “’Twould be terrible t’ be blind and never see all th’ pretty sights. Th’ great doctor’ll cure Jamie, and then he’ll see un all again, too. We’ll work wonderful hard t’ get th’ money t’ pay for th’ cure. We’ll have t’ get un, whatever.”
Neither the fox traps on the marsh nor the marten traps in the woods yielded Andy any fur, but as he passed from the woods to the last stretch of marsh he comforted himself with the reflection: