“A few dollars of ready cash would be very acceptable,” observed Uncle Mark. “What say you, Roger? We’ll start away, and spend a month or so with them. We can take Mike with us, while Quambo will look after the hut, the cattle, and pigs.”
I was ready, of course; and so, as my uncle was a man of action, he determined to set off the next morning. We were all good skaters; and although, during the first part of our journey, we should be unable to make use of our skates, we settled to carry them with us.
At daybreak, then, we were up, and having taken breakfast, were ready to start,—our provisions consisting of flour-cakes and cold pork, with a pot and pannikins. Mike also carried his fiddle hung around his neck.
“It will help to amuse the gossoons—and maybe put a few dollars in my pocket,” he remarked with a wink. “Bedad! I’ll keep their feet going, when the work is over for the day, and they are afther sharpening their axes.”
We had but one gun with us, which Mike carried, as we wished to travel with as little encumbrance as possible.
But just as we were starting off, Uncle Mark recollected that he had forgotten to write to Uncle Stephen upon a matter of importance.
“You, Roger, and Mike, can go on ahead,” he said, “while I finish my letter, which I will leave with Quambo to be forwarded; and I will soon overtake you.”
As there was now light enough for us to see our way through the forest, we commenced our tramp. There was no risk of our taking the wrong road, seeing there was but one—along the course of the stream, which ran into the larger river; and it was now frozen in such a manner as to afford us a good highway. Mike was always amusing, and I was glad of his company; besides which, as we had had a good start of my uncle, I was in hopes that we might have time to get a shot at something.
We had accomplished three or four miles, and I had begun to wonder why Uncle Mark had not overtaken us, as he was a quick walker, and intended to carry only his axe, and a small skin bag over his shoulder containing some necessaries. We were looking about us, in the hope of catching sight of a raccoon or opossum, or some larger game, when a howl, such as had aroused us one night a short time before, sounded through the forest.
“Sure, that comes from a pack of wolves,” observed Mike. “But no! I belave one of the brutes is capable of making that noise. We have heard the echoes among the trees. I hope that there are not many of them, as they might take it into their heads to attack us, and that would not be pleasant.”