By the time the house-building material was secured, the old hunter could hobble about on extemporized crutches and give directions about building the hut, and sometimes assist Larry in steadying the boards that held the frame in place. And when their new home had reached a stage that called for finishing touches he was able to handle hammer and saw in performing some of the lighter work.
The hut was a curious little creation, with round port holes for windows and a ship’s cabin door, which gave it the appearance of having been cast up from the sea. It was made of the tight fitting boards, and rendered doubly wind proof by two thicknesses of canvas stretched over every part of it and nailed securely. Inside it was made attractive with all manner of ornaments taken from the yacht. There were two comfortable bunks arranged cabin-fashion one above the other at one end, a table and chairs, a case of books, and the little stove from the galley that kept the room warm even in the coldest weather. With its complete equipment, even to spring cots and mattresses, Martin declared it the finest winter home ever owned by shipwrecked hunters.
By Christmas day it was completed even to the smallest detail, and on that day they moved in and formally took possession, deserting the yacht forever. This day was made one of special merriment and rejoicing, for Martin was able to dispense with his cane or crutches for the first time, and use his leg in a natural manner without assistance. It was still weak, but strengthening so rapidly that it promised soon to be completely restored to power. So, to celebrate this combination of happy events, they brought all manner of delicacies from the pile of stores, and devoted the first part of the day to preparing for a grand feast.
In the afternoon they harnessed the dogs tandem to the toboggan, Martin took his place in the “movable brush heap,” and all went for a “joy ride” of several miles through the woods in a great circle that brought them back to the cabin about sundown. In several places on this journey they crossed caribou tracks, the sight of which made Martin’s eyes sparkle, and he predicted great hunting trips before the winter was much older.
In the evening they had their grand dinner which the dogs attended, all hands doing full justice to every course. After the feast Martin and Larry played cards until far past their usual bedtime. Taken all in all Christmas day proved a very cheerful one in the great wilderness.
The old man had cherished the hope that his leg would heal and gain strength so rapidly that they could make another attempt to reach the settlements before the winter was over. For he knew that if they did not do so they must wait until the unsettled weather of spring was over, and the ground dry enough for reasonably easy traveling. At that season they would encounter the terrible wood flies and insects, far more to be dreaded in certain regions than cold and snow. But it would be madness to attempt to make the winter journey until his strength had returned fully, and he soon realized that this would not be until well on toward spring. Very soon he was able to take fairly long snow-shoe tramps, assisted by the dogs and the toboggan, but hauling a heavy sled was quite out of the question. So he finally resigned himself to spending the winter at the cabin.
Larry had shown such aptitude in learning the many secrets of woodcraft that he determined to make a “land pilot,” as he called it facetiously, of him during their exile. As the boy had become proficient in the use of the rifle, Martin devoted part of the time to instructions in the art of trapping. They were in the land of the silver fox,—the most highly prized skin of all the fur-bearers—and so they concentrated their efforts to catch some of these wary animals. Meanwhile they made constantly lengthening hunting excursions after caribou, Larry occupying the position of chief hunter with the old man playing assistant. But on these hunting trips the little gun that Larry had carried at first was left hanging on its peg in the hut. In its place Larry now carried a repeater similar to Martin’s—a heavy weapon, that gave the boy many an arm ache.
Game was not very plentiful, however, and it required constant efforts to keep their larder supplied with fresh meat. But this scarcity of game gave the old hunter more opportunities for teaching the boy all manner of woodland tricks to secure it. Meanwhile he imparted to his pupil the most important and difficult feature of woodcraft—the art of “being at home” in the woods—to know directions instinctively, to observe and interpret every sign, and to take care of himself under all conditions.
Several times, when the injured leg was stronger and his pupil more advanced, Martin made practical tests of the boy’s progress. He would select a day when snow was falling, harness the dogs to the toboggan loaded with tent, sleeping-bags, and provisions, and make a zigzag journey into the heart of the woods. Here they would pitch camp and wait until the storm ceased. By that time their trail would be completely obliterated. Then, without any guiding suggestions, he had Larry take the lead and pilot them back to the cabin.
At first the boy would become confused, and be obliged to call upon the old hunter to straighten him out; and sometimes Martin allowed him to become completely at fault before he would aid him. But little by little Larry learned to observe and remember instinctively, until presently Martin found it impossible to confuse him even on long trips.