Fortunately for the boy boughs and wood were close at hand, for he was fagged and exhausted beyond expression. He knew what Martin had said to him about “getting accustomed to it in a few days” was probably true, and this helped him keep up his courage; but there is a limit to muscular endurance even when backed by the highest quality of will-power. He managed to collect the wood and the boughs, however, by the time Martin returned, and the old man found him lying on the heap of boughs, sleeping the sleep of complete exhaustion.
The six days following were practically repetitions of the first—a ceaseless grind of hard work through the timber. Martin, although a tough and seasoned veteran, began to show the effects of the strain, while Larry had become an automaton, who performed the three functions of working, eating, and sleeping mechanically. There were no talks beside the camp-fire now before turning in, neither man nor boy having enough surplus energy left at the end of the day to indulge in more conversation than was absolutely necessary. Both had settled down to their grim work, more and more of which Martin had taken upon himself as they proceeded; and every day the boy had reason to be thankful to the tough old woodsman for little acts of kindness and thoughtfulness. But his efforts left the old man too tired for useless conversation even if Larry had cared to listen.
At noon on the seventh day the woods thinned out into scraggly trees, and an hour later the travelers emerged upon a flat, and apparently treeless plain. Here Martin called a halt and left Larry and the dogs while he took observations. In a few minutes he returned, but instead of fastening on his harness he sat down beside Larry on the sled.
“It isn’t as bad as it might be,” he said, “but it is bad enough, at that. I can make out the outline of the fringe of trees on the other side from the top of a big rock over yonder, and I think it is only ten miles over to them. But I’m not sure, for distances are deceptive in this country. So we’ll camp here now and get an early start in the morning.”
Then he added, with a grim smile, “I guess you won’t mind the six hours’ extra rest.”
They made their camp accordingly in a clump of trees, and Larry and the dogs slept and rested, while the old hunter arranged for the next day’s run. This consisted in rearranging the loads, examining and mending harnesses and sled lashings, besides performing Larry’s usual task of gathering wood and boughs, not rousing the tired boy until a hot supper was ready. And when Larry had gorged himself, Martin sent him back to his sleeping bag to get more rest without waiting to help about cleaning up the supper pans and pots.
CHAPTER VIII
THE BLIZZARD
Even after the dogs were harnessed and ready to start the following morning Martin hesitated.
“There’s a storm brewing,” he said. “The moon and the stars showed it last night, and I can feel it in the air this morning. But we may be able to get across before it strikes us, and I suppose we’ve got to chance it.”
To Larry the old hunter’s apprehensions seemed absurd. The sun was glaring brightly over the tree tops, and across the glistening crust of the open plain the trees on the other side could be seen as a low gray line, apparently close at hand. Surely those trees would be reached before any storm settled over this clear day.