Blake's Burden

by Harold Bindloss

His first impulse was to light a fire and feast, but as he grew calmer he began to think. He was a long way from camp and feared that if he rested he could not force himself to resume the march. Besides, there were the wolves to reckon with, and he could not escape if they followed him in the dark. Prudence suggested that he should cut off as much meat as possible, and after placing it out of reach in a tree set off for camp at his best speed without taking any of the raw flesh to scent the air; but this was more than he could bring himself to do. His comrades were very hungry, and some animal might climb to the frozen meat. It was unthinkable that he should run any risk of losing the precious food. He decided to take as much as he could carry and make a depot of the rest, and set to work with the hunting knife in anxious haste.

It was now quite dark; he could not see what he was cutting, and if he gashed his hand, which was numbed and almost useless, the wound would not heal. Then the haft of the knife grew slippery and tough skin and bone turned the wandering blade. It was an unpleasant business, but he was not fastidious and he tore the flesh off with his fingers, knowing that he was in danger while he worked. There were wolves in the neighbourhood, and their scent for blood was wonderfully keen; it was a question whether they would reach the spot before he had left it, and when he stopped to clean the knife in the snow he cast a swift glance about.

He could see nothing farther off than a fallen trunk about a dozen yards away; beyond that the trees had faded into a sombre mass. A biting wind wailed among them, and he could hear the harsh rustle of the needles, but except for this there was a daunting silence. He began to feel a horror of the lonely wood and a longing to escape into the open, though he would be no safer there. But to give way to this weakness would be dangerous and, pulling himself together, he went to work more calmly.

It was difficult to reach the branches of the spruce he chose, and when he had placed the first load of meat in safety he was tempted to flight. Indeed, for some moments he stood irresolute, struggling to hold his fears in subjection; and then went back for another supply. He climbed the tree three times before he was satisfied that he had stored enough, and afterwards gathered up as much of the flesh as he could conveniently carry. It would soon freeze, but not before it had left a scent that any wolf which might happen to be near could follow.

He left the wood with a steady stride, refraining from attempting a faster pace than he could keep up, but when he had gone a mile he felt distressed.

His load, which included the rifle, was heavy, and he had been exerting himself since early morning. The wind was in his face, lashing it until the cold became intolerable, the dry snow was loose, and he could not find his outward trail. Still, he was thankful that no more had fallen and thought he knew the quarter he must make for. Now he was in the open, he could see some distance, for the snow threw up a dim light. It stretched away before him, a sweep of glimmering grey, and the squeaking crunch it made beneath his shoes emphasized the silence.

Skirting a bluff he did not remember, he stopped in alarm until a taller clump of trees which he thought he knew caught his searching eyes. If he were right, he must incline farther to the east to strike the shortest line to camp, and he set off, breathing heavily and longing to fling away his load. Cold flakes stung his face and a creeping haze obscured his view in the direction where he expected to find the next wood. He was within a hundred yards of the nearest trees when he saw them and as he left the last it was snowing hard. His heart sank as he launched out into the open, for he had now no guide, and having neither axe nor blanket he could not make a fire and camp in a bluff, even if he could find one. It looked as if he must perish should he fail to reach the camp. The thought of the wolves no longer troubled him, but when he had gone a mile or two he imagined he heard a howl behind him and quickened his speed.

After that he had only a hazy recollection of floundering on, passing a bluff he could not locate and here there and a white rock, while the snow fell thicker and its surface got worse. Then, when he felt he could go no farther, a faint glow of light broke out and he turned towards it with a hoarse cry. An answer reached him; the light grew brighter, and he was in among the trees. Benson met him, and in another minute or two he flung himself down, exhausted by the fire.

"I've brought you your supper, boys," he said. "We'll have a feast to-night."

They ate with keen appetite and afterwards went to sleep, but when they reached the wood next morning nothing was left of the caribou except the meat in the tree and a few clean-picked bones.