As they sat before the fire on a tree felled and stripped of its branches for the purpose, and munched frozen pemmican, and took turns in sipping strong unsweetened tea from the only cup now left to them, Jalap Coombs described his thrilling experiences of the preceding night.
According to his story, one of his dogs gave out, and he stopped to unharness it with the hope that it would still have strength to follow the sledge. While he was thus engaged the storm broke, the blinding rush of snow swept over the mountains, and as he looked up he found to his dismay that the other sledge was already lost to view. He at once started to overtake it, urging on the reluctant dogs by every means in his power; but after a few minutes of struggle against the furious gale, they lay down and refused to move. After cutting their traces that they might follow him if they chose, the man set forth alone, with bowed head and uncertain steps, on a hopeless quest for his comrades. He did not find them, as we know, though once he heard a faint cry from off to one side. Heading in that direction, the next thing he knew he had plunged over the precipice, and found himself sliding, rolling, and bounding downward with incredible velocity.
“The trip must have lasted an hour or more,” said Jalap Coombs, soberly, in describing it, “and when I finally brung up all standing, I couldn’t make out for quite a spell whether I were still on top of the earth or had gone plumb through to the other side. I knowed every rib and timber of my framing were broke, and every plank started; but somehow I managed to keep my head above water, and struck out for shore. I made port under a tree, and went to sleep. When I woke at the end of the watch, I found all hatches closed and battened down. So I were jest turning over again when I heerd a hail, and knowed I were wanted on deck. And, boys, I’ve had happy moments in my life, but I reckon the happiest of ’em all were when I broke out and seen you two, with the kid, standing quiet and respectful, and heerd ye saying, ‘Good morning, sir, and hoping you’ve passed a quiet night,’ like I were a full-rigged cap’n.”
“As you certainly deserve to be, Mr. Coombs,” laughed Phil, “and as I believe you will be before long, for I don’t think we can be very far from salt water at this moment.”
“It’s been seeming to me that I could smell it!” exclaimed the sailor-man, eagerly sniffing the air as he spoke. “And, ef you’re agreeable, sir, I moves that we set sail for it at once. My hull’s pretty well battered and stove in, but top works is solid, standing and running rigging all right, and I reckon by steady pumping we can navigate the old craft to port yet.”
“All aboard, then! Up anchor, and let’s be off!” shouted Phil, so excited at the prospect of a speedy termination to their journey that he could not bear a moment’s longer delay in attaining it. At present he cared little that they had evidently wandered far from the Chilkat trail, as was shown by the westward trend of the valley in which they now found themselves. That it still descended sharply, and by following it they must eventually reach the ocean, was enough.
So they set merrily and hopefully forth, and followed the windings of the valley, keeping just beyond the forest edge. In summer-time they would have found it filled with impassable obstacles—huge bowlders, landslides, a net-work of logs and fallen trees, and a roaring torrent; but now it was packed with snow to such an incredible depth that all these things lay far beneath their feet, and the way was made easy.
By nightfall they had reached the mouth of the valley, and saw, opening before them, one so much wider that it reminded them of the broad expanse of the frozen Yukon. The course of this new valley was almost north and south, and they felt certain that it must lead to the sea. In spite of their anxiety to follow it, darkness compelled them to seek a camping-place in the timber. That evening they ate all that remained of their pemmican, excepting a small bit that was reserved for Nel-te’s breakfast.
They made up, as far as possible, for their lack of food by building the most gorgeous camp-fire of the entire journey. They felled several green trees close together, and built it on them so that it should not melt its way down out of sight through the deep snow. Then they felled dead trees and cut them into logs. These, together with dead branches, they piled up, until they had a structure forty feet long by ten feet high. They set fire to it with the last match in their possession, and as the flames gathered headway and roared and leaped to the very tops of the surrounding trees, even Phil was obliged to acknowledge that at last he was thoroughly and uncomfortably warm. The contrast between that night and the previous one, passed in a snow burrow high up on the mountains, amid the howlings of a furious gale, without food, fire, or hope, was so wonderful that all declared they had lived months since that dreadful time instead of only a few hours.