The Golden Boys With the Lumber Jacks

by L. P. Wyman

“You geet supper ready for us ver’ queek,” Pierre snarled as he flung his cap on the floor and sat down in front of the stove.

Knowing the folly of resisting, Jack made haste to obey and did his best hoping that, if he pleased them, they might not tie him up. But in this he was doomed to disappointment for, soon after eleven o’clock, having tired of playing cards, the big Frenchman tied him to the chair in much the same way as before. But this time, remembering a trick which Bob had taught him, he held his muscles as tense as possible while the rope was being tied. To his joy he found, when he relaxed, that the rope was much looser than on the previous occasion. He waited until heavy breathing told him that his captors were asleep and then began to try to work his hands free. For all of a half hour he struggled and tears of disappointment came to his eyes as gradually he realized that he could not do it. He could almost do it but not quite, and finally was forced to give up the attempt. But his position was much more comfortable than it had been before, for the looseness of the rope allowed him to rest his arms by moving them slightly when they began to ache.

Slowly the hours dragged past until, when he thought it must be nearly morning, he fell into a troubled sleep.

The dawn was just beginning to steal in at the window when he awoke with a start. The room was cold and he was chilled through. His arms felt numb and he restored the circulation by moving them slowly up and down as far as the rope would permit. An hour passed and then another and still no signs of life from the sleepers. Would they never wake and untie him?

He had again about reached the limit of his endurance when, happening to glance toward the window on the east side of the room, he saw something which made his heart leap. A face was pressed close against the window pane. A second glance revealed the fact that it was the face of an Indian and, in a moment, to his great delight, he recognized Kernertok.

As the eyes of the Indian rested on the boy bound to the chair, a look first of amazement and then of anger spread over his face. He stared at him for a moment and then disappeared, but a moment later Jack heard the door, which had not been fastened, slowly pushed open. Noiselessly the old man stole across the room and the next moment the rope which bound his wrists was cut and his arms were free. To free his feet was but the work of a moment, and standing up Jack placed his finger on his lips and pointed toward the bunks.

The Indian motioned for the boy to follow him, and was starting for the door when suddenly, without warning, Pierre sprang from his bunk and confronted them. As the Frenchman saw the Indian he let loose a loud cry and sprang for him. Kernertok met him with a blow on the chin which staggered him but did not knock him down, and in another second they were rolling on the floor, first one on top and then the other.

The cry had wakened the other man, and by the time Pierre and Kernertok had clinched, he was out of his bunk and rushing for Jack. But the latter, as soon as he had seen what had happened, had stepped quickly back to the pile of wood and picked up a round stick about two inches in diameter and eighteen inches long. Seeing the man coming for him, he did not hesitate but hurled the stick with all his might. It caught the Frenchman full on the forehead and he went down in a heap as though he had been shot.

“One out,” Jack muttered, as he turned to the two struggling on the floor.

He knew that the Indian was strong and wiry, but feared that he would be no match for the giant Frenchman should the latter succeed in getting a decisive hold. He quickly picked up the stick and was about to go to the old man’s aid when suddenly the latter broke away and sprang to his feet. Pierre, with a cry of rage, followed suit. But before he had time to spring again at the old man, an unexpected ally entered the fight. There was a fierce growl and a gray streak flashed through the air. Pierre went down, thrown off his balance by the impact. Vainly he tried with all his might to keep the huge jaws from his throat, as man and dog rolled over and over on the floor. But the dog had secured a hold and was not to be shaken off. Fortunate indeed was it for Pierre that Kernertok had taught Sicum not to kill, else the man’s throat would have been torn into slits by the sharp teeth. As it was the dog bit just hard enough to keep his hold. But it was plenty hard enough to take all the fight out of the Frenchman, and when, a moment later, Kernertok dragged the dog away, he made no attempt to rise.