The Forest Pilot: A Story for Boy Scouts

by Edward Huntington

The hauling was much easier, too, on the smooth, level crust, so different from the rough woodlands. Indeed, Larry’s toboggan seemed to move so lightly that the boy stopped and examined his load after he had been traveling a few minutes. He found, to his surprise, that fully half his load had been transferred to Martin’s toboggan. The discovery made his heart go out anew to the old man now rushing ahead in feverish haste over the crust, and he put every ounce of strength into keeping up the pace.

At the end of two hours the gray line ahead had become broad and well-defined, while the line of trees behind them had dwindled to a low gray streak on the horizon. But meanwhile the sun had turned to a dull red ball and the wind had shifted into their faces. It took no practiced eye now to see that a storm was approaching. But no one unfamiliar with an arctic blizzard could conceive the fury of such a storm as the one that broke half an hour later.

Squarely in their faces the wind struck them with such force that even the dogs turned instinctively to avoid it, and to shield themselves from the cutting, sand-like snow that was driven before it. The temperature, too, dropped with inconceivable rapidity, and the cold penetrated Larry’s thick clothing so that his skin tingled despite the fact that he was exerting himself to the utmost, and a moment before had been hot from his efforts. He closed his eyes for a moment to shield them, and instantly the lashes were frozen together. Unable to proceed he turned his back to the blast to rub them open, and when he succeeded in doing so he found that Martin’s sledge was completely blotted out by the storm, so that he was not sure even of its location.

In a panic he realized the seriousness of his situation and rushed forward in a frenzied effort to overtake his leader, shouting as he struggled with the load. But his voice scarcely carried to the struggling Kim, being drowned in the howl of the storm. He still had enough command of his senses to remember that the wind was blowing from dead ahead. But now, for some reason he did not understand, Kim refused to face the blast squarely, but persisted obstinately in turning almost at right angles to the left. In vain Larry shouted, and kicked at the dog in desperation with his snow-shoe, but the wind caught the clumsy framework, tripping the boy face downward into the icy snow which cut and bruised his face.

Choking and gasping for breath he struggled to his feet again now forcing his way forward blindly in the vague hope of stumbling upon the elusive Martin. He was numb with the cold and exhausted by his violent efforts; and while he strove to face the blast, he found himself turning instinctively from it, while Kim, with seeming perversity strained at the traces, first in one direction and then another.

For a few minutes this struggle continued, and then a feeling of irresistible drowsiness came over the boy. Standing with his back to the wind he no longer felt the keen bite of the cold; and as he was able to accomplish nothing by trying to go forward, he crouched down behind the toboggan, mindful of Martin’s oft-repeated instructions to keep moving to avoid freezing, but too much overcome to heed it.

Meanwhile the old hunter was in a far more distressed state of mind. When the storm struck he had turned and shouted to Larry to keep close to the tail of his toboggan, meanwhile fumbling to get his compass from his pocket, for he knew that only the needle could hold him to his course. It was just at this time that Larry’s lashes had frozen together, and he had stopped to rub them open, so that he did not overtake Martin’s sledge as the old man expected. And when the old hunter looked up from fumbling with the compass a moment later, the storm had blotted out the boy completely.

Instantly the old man brought his dog about to return to the other sled, which was at most thirty yards away; but the heavy load, clogged by the snow, moved slowly, and by the time he reached what he felt sure must be the spot where Larry had stood the boy had vanished. He was indeed only a few feet away, struggling desperately with Kim who instinctively was striving to reach the other toboggan; but in that storm an object thirty feet away was as completely blotted out as if the interval had been miles instead of feet.

Martin knew that in a very short time the boy, struggling aimlessly in the storm, would be overcome and frozen, and he realized that his chance of finding him was desperate, as he could neither hear nor see anything two yards ahead. His only hope lay in the sagacity of the dog. So without a moment’s hesitation at the terrible risk he was taking he cut the traces freeing the dog from his sled, and, leaving the load of precious supplies standing where it was, sent the animal ahead, holding the leash to restrain it. Guided by the compass he began walking in narrowing circles, trusting to the dog to find its mate should they pass near it. If he succeeded he could weather the storm by the aid of the supplies on the boy’s toboggan. If he failed?—well, the storm would shorten the end mercifully; and the boy would have gone on before him.

For half an hour he fought his circular course through the storm, Jack plodding ahead, crouched down to resist the blast. Then the animal suddenly straightened up on its legs, and plunged off to one side barking excitedly, and jerking Martin after him. A few short leaps brought them to where Larry lay curled down behind the toboggan.