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CHAPTER XIX
Across the Snows for Safety

"Hist! Hist! Here, good dog!" Hank called gently to the huge brute slinking towards himself and Joe, as they lay outside the winter bivouacs of Hurley and his men, and held forward a tempting morsel of flesh. Even our hero could scent the pleasing aroma from the morsel; for the little hunter had so contrived with his covering of snow that there was considerable warmth in it yet, while the frosty air seemed to accentuate the aroma. But it was a toss up as to whether the beast would suddenly give tongue or would slink still nearer and accept the proffered dainty.

"Good dog!" called Hank again. "Here's summat for yer."

Perhaps his soothing voice had something to do with the matter. It may have been even that the brute realized, as dumb brutes do, that he was face to face with one well acquainted with his brethren. Suffice it to say that his bristles subsided and he sidled up, wagging his tail, his nose snuffing at the morsel. Hank patted him at once.

"Here's more o' that," he said. "Lie down! Now, where aer the others? It aer more'n likely that they've gone in with the men, and ef that's the case it'll be a job to get 'em out, to say nothing of puttin' the harness on 'em. See here, lad; I'll stay with this brute, so's to quiet the others ef they come out. You creep in a bit closer and scout around; I ain't yet quite sure how things aer. Take a piece of the meat with you, and ef a dog runs out, jest pitch it towards him."

It may be imagined that Joe needed no further orders. He was on hands and knees at once, and began to creep towards the lean-to. In a little while he was within a dozen feet, and, wriggling his way into a position of advantage, he was soon able to look right in, the firelight helping him greatly. A jumbled heap of bodies, legs, and arms met his eyes, with the sleeping forms of dogs inextricably mixed up with them. He saw, in fact, a typical residence of the half-breed. These men, of a degenerate class themselves, and careless of everything so long as their own comfort was assured, had turned into their lean-to without removing so much as a garment, which is not to be wondered at, considering the cold, and, throwing themselves down higgledy-piggledy, had called to the dogs, who had promptly accepted the invitation, and, thrusting their way into any odd corner and the most comfortable nooks, had settled themselves down to sleep till the call of a new day aroused them. But there was something more which attracted Joe's attention. There seemed to be so few dogs, perhaps half a dozen in all, while each of the sleigh teams mustered nine or ten.

"Couldn't swear to the number," he told himself, "but there are not two teams here, of that I am certain. Where, then, are the others?"

Looking to right and to left gave him no help. It was clear that he must search for them elsewhere, so promptly he crept away in the direction of the second lean-to. It happened, too, that his path took him to the end of this farthest removed from the spot where the fire was blazing. Indeed, it was only native caution which caused him to make for that end; for had he crawled towards the fire, its bright flames would have betrayed his presence instantly to anyone happening to look out. Hurley, he knew, was a suspicious, restless individual, so that the merest whimper from one of the dogs, even a rustling of the snow, might bring him into the open.

"I'll give him no chance to spoil our plans," said Joe, kneeling up to take a good look about him. "First thing is to take a squint into the lean-to. There's a light somewhere inside, I fancy, so perhaps Hurley is sitting up and making plans for the next attack. Hope he ain't, though; I'd rather he were asleep, worn out by all that's happened."

Crawling along on hands and knees, it was a little time before he came to the lean-to. A glance over his shoulder now told him that Hank had come a trifle closer, and still had the dog beside him. Knowing, therefore, that he had someone to give him a warning should the half-breeds suddenly emerge, Joe very gently separated two strips of birch bark which closed in a portion of this Canadian dwelling. Then he applied his eye to the aperture, only to find that he was staring right across to the far side of the lean-to, and that neither Hurley nor anyone else was within his vision. There was a roll of flaming bark within two feet, however, spluttering and smoking gently.

"No good here," he thought. "Must try the other side, and a trifle lower down. Hallo – dogs! George – they're lying just outside this shanty!"

Joe had risen to his feet now, though still stooping, and as he peered over the far end of the flimsy erection he caught sight of quite a number of dogs stretched within easy distance of the fire, huddled into one close body, and all fast asleep. After all, there was nothing remarkable in that, or of sufficient importance to cause his exclamations, save, of course, their proximity to himself. For these dogs, bred in the Arctic zone almost, and in any case upon its fringe, can stand a degree of cold which would rapidly kill a human being. Warmth they like, just as do most animals, but they can resist a Canadian winter in remarkable manner, and are capable of sleeping in the open. In any case, there they were, bundled together, sleeping deeply, no doubt tired after a hard day with the sleigh.

"But they'll rouse any time," Joe told himself. "If there weren't snow about to deaden my steps, they'd have kicked up a row already, unless, of course, they take me for one of their masters."

Perhaps that was the reason of their tranquillity. Satisfied that they had not detected him yet, Joe crept round to the far side of the lean-to and, boring another aperture, peered in. And on this occasion his efforts won a greater reward; for Hurley lay before him. His bulky form was stretched full length on one of the sleighs, his face turned away from the light; a rifle was propped beside him, while close against the sleigh was that same wooden box which we have already described. For the rest, there was nothing more to comment on. Travellers during a Canadian winter are few and far between – we speak here of the backwoods – and such as there are carry merely necessaries, so that a humble lean-to contains little else but the traveller. There was Hurley, in fact, alone, and with a weapon beside him. The box was of no consequence, though, if only Joe could have guessed that only a few hours ago that precious document was spread out on it, it is likely enough that he would have shown more excitement. But there was no sign of the envelope. Doubtless the sleeping Hurley had it in an inner pocket. Joe bore in mind Hank's warning, and promptly used all his wits to bring about an escape from the ruffian.

"Can't bother about the document or letter," he told himself. "We'll tackle the man; but how, is the question? It's clear that he has hauled the sleigh in to make a bed, leaving the dogs still attached to it. That would be fine for us, if it weren't for the fact that Hurley has fallen asleep on it. Then there's the gun; fancy I can reach that, anyway."

He stretched the opening a little wider, stood well above it, and reached in.

"Can't!" he told himself, with an exclamation of vexation. "Try again."

This time the roof of the lean-to bent inward as he pressed upon it, then his fingers hit upon the muzzle of the weapon. Joe gripped it firmly, drew gently on it, and slowly extracted the gun through the opening.

"Makes things easier a whole heap. When he wakes he'll have to look about for another weapon, unless he's got – " He pulled at the opening and again stared in at the sleeper. "No sign of a shooter. Hooray! Things begin to look a little better. I'll get hold of Hank and have a chat with him."

Within three minutes the two had retired a little and were discussing matters in voices raised hardly above a whisper. Hank kneeled on the snow, one arm about the dog he had coaxed into friendship, and who seemed to have taken a huge fancy to him. The little man listened carefully to our hero's description, and made no comment for a few moments; then, of a sudden, a gurgling laugh came from some point deep down in his throat.

"Ef we don't win out I ain't Hank," he smiled. "Now, jest listen. This aer the movement; Jimmy here – that's this dog, and I christened him Jimmy 'cos that's the name of a beast I had once when huntin' in the backwoods – Jimmy goes along up to his friends sleeping outside the lean-to and wakes 'em. He lets 'em understand that things are right, and that there's a new friend come to the camp. You needn't look as ef you didn't believe it could be, young chap. You've got to remember that there's a moon. Ef it were pitch dark it would be different, for then the dogs couldn't see us. A beast barks at any sound on a dark night, while with a moon, ef he kin see right off what's caused the ruction, he don't always give tongue. Anyway, we try the plan. Ef it fails, we'll have to make a rush at the brutes, put 'em into line, and drive 'em. But here's the rest of the scheme. This is your part."

"Ah! What? I'm ready."

"In course you aer; couldn't I tell that from what you've done this last five minutes?"

"Well," said Joe impatiently, "you look to the dogs. That's right, for you know a heap about them. What do I do?"

"Settle Hurley."

"Eh? Kill him? I – "

"You don't need to be thin-skinned, young chap. This ain't a time fer killing; I'll do that fast enough ef it comes to a tussle between us. What you've got to do is to rouse him off the sleigh, and then smother him so's he can't get clear of the lean-to till we've got aboard and has set the dogs going. Jest sling that 'ere rifle into the bushes here. Gently with it. Now you ain't bothered with extry weight. You comes with me to the place agin and watches while I get in amongst the dogs. Ef there's a noise, and Hurley rouses, bash the lean-to down on top of his head, jump on it, send the sticks and the snow about him, then leap on the sleigh and look out fer fireworks."

Joe grinned; he couldn't help doing so, in spite of the danger of the situation. "If there's not a row?" he asked.

"Ef there's not a ruction with them dogs and the other men, and things go nice and smooth and easy, I'll lift my hand when I'm ready. Then you get a grip of that thar Hurley, bash him over the head ef you like with your open hand, and, as he rises, bring the whole shanty down on him – eh? You're there, ain't you? It aer a clear and straightforward plan."

"Got it," answered Joe promptly, moistening his lips, and tingling with excitement and anticipation. "Do we start now?"

"This very instant. But supposin' Hurley suddenly rouses as soon as we get close, and afore you kin bring the shack down on him – "

"Leave that to me," answered Joe tersely. "I've had one innings with the ruffian already."

There never were two who understood each other so well and so easily as did Hank and our hero. Their discussion had taken them but a few bare seconds, and now they were creeping back. Joe halted when close beside the lean-to, while the little hunter sat down on his knees and whispered to the dog Jimmy. The hound seemed to have gathered his meaning too as rapidly as had Joe, for he went slinking forward and lay down beside his comrades. As might have been expected, his coming caused many of the beasts to open their eyes, though they did not offer to move. But Hank was watching eagerly, and a second later a morsel of flesh flew across, landing close to Jimmy. Others followed, and in an incredibly short space of time the dogs were all aroused and standing.

"Jest watch fer the signal," whispered the hunter. "I'm agoin' to put 'em into their harness."

It was just at that moment that Joe heard a movement within the lean-to, and promptly applied his eye to the opening he had made. Hurley had turned over, and was now blinking at the spluttering torch, while one arm was spread out over the box. Something seemed to have alarmed him, for he sat up, giving the box a kick, which Hank heard; then he got to his feet swiftly and, bending low, stepped toward the opening, just outside which blazed the fire, and just beyond which Hank was mustering the team of dogs. Hurley saw him; for the instant he took him to be one of his own following, then he became suspicious.

"Who's that?" he called. "Hi! Someone is tampering with the dogs."

Joe did not venture to wait longer. He leaped on to the top of the lean-to, the flimsy thing breaking down beneath his weight at once; he trod upon the wretch beneath, sending him tumbling to the ground; then he stood ready for the next movement. It came with startling suddenness. Hank had found a whip close to the dogs, and sent it cracking over the team. The brutes sprang forward the next instant, and in spite of the fact that Hurley had tumbled across the sleigh, they brought it out from beneath the smashed lean-to with a jerk which tossed snow and sticks aside, and sent the rascally leader of this band of cut-throats rolling backward from the end. Hank seemed to fly to his position at the fore end. Joe fell across the sleigh as it flashed past him, scrambled aboard, and found himself gripping the sides closely; for a sleigh is no easy thing to ride when a strong team pulls it at fast pace across ground which is broken. It jolts and sways abominably, while often enough it will glissade, just like a petrol car rounding a sharp and greasy corner.

"Hold tight," shouted Hank, "and get yer shootin' iron ready for 'em! When we comes up to Beaver Jack, I'll hand the reins over to him. You'll take the centre place, while I'll nip in at the back, so as to be ready to shoot that 'ere Hurley."

Not a word passed between the two from that moment until they reached the spot where Beaver Jack was waiting for them. Swinging along at a glorious pace, and swerving and rolling, sometimes dangerously, they finally dashed up to the heap of snow behind which the Redskin had taken shelter.

"Now, Jack, you take them dogs," said Hank quickly. "Give me a hold of the rope tied on to your sleigh. There! It's fast to this; you kin move off when you're ready."

"But – "

"What?" asked the hunter somewhat curtly, interrupting Joe.

"Why let the dogs haul two sleighs? Cut Beaver Jack's pelts adrift and tie 'em here. We can do it as we go. Our traps can be served in the same way. It isn't the weight that'll tell so much as the amount of ground our runners cover. A sleigh towing behind will hold the dogs more than the load on it will do when added to this sleigh."

"Shucks! You aer got the best head of the three of us," cried Hank. "You git in at them dogs, Beaver Jack. Me and Joe'll fix the kit while we're moving."

Away went the lash of the whip cracking over the leaders. Beaver Jack handled the team as a man does who has had great practice. Anyone could have said that from merely observing his manner of wielding the whip, for the short-handled, long-lashed dog whip employed in the north of Canada is apt to be more dangerous to the amateur wielder than to the dogs. It requires an amount of practice to control it; and as it twirled and cracked, and leaped backwards and forwards, now over the dogs, and then above the heads of Hank and Joe, there was proof positive of Beaver Jack's previous acquaintance with it. Meanwhile, Hank had drawn up the smaller sleigh alongside, and he and Joe rapidly transferred its load to the large one on which they themselves sat, lashing every article into position.

At the enemy's camp there was now huge commotion. At first the confusion had been so great that no one could guess what had happened. Even Hurley himself had little more than an inkling, and it took him a few seconds to pick himself up and free himself of the snow and debris of the lean-to with which he had been covered. Then shouts of rage and fierce orders burst from his lips; in his anger he dashed hither and thither, shouting at his men, and even striking those who seemed to be dawdling.

"Put the other team into the sleigh, quick!" he commanded. "One of you help here to find my rifle. Those men have made a sneaking night attack, and will get clear off if we don't move quick. Here, look for my rifle, I say. How in thunder did it get outside the lean-to?"

There were quite a number of little matters which he was likely to find difficult of explanation. But the gun was found eventually where Joe had placed it, while the second team of dogs were got into their harness. Then Hurley pressed two of the boldest of his followers into this special service, and putting them aboard the remaining sleigh, leaped there himself, and ordered the driver to set off in pursuit of our hero and his friends.

Beaver Jack never hesitated as to the course he ought to pursue once his fingers closed on the reins Hank tossed him.

"Clear back for the settlements," the little hunter had said, and the Redskin obeyed him to the letter. He steered his team over a portion of the lake, set them at the bank where it shelved very gradually to the ice, and, gaining a hollow, aimed directly for a huge patch of forest distinguishable with the aid of the moon's rays in the far distance.

"He war born cute, he war," grunted Hank, some minutes later, when all the loads were secured, and he and Joe had time and opportunity to look about them. "Beaver Jack never stirs a foot, but he watches everything about him, and I reckon that he knows nigh every foot of the country; knows it, too, whether it's fine weather or ef there's snow about and landmarks is wiped out altogether. He aer steering downhill, knowing as the big lake back behind drains along the valley to another, and that again to a third. It means quick travelling all the way, and ef we're to shake off them critters it'll be before we reaches the third lake. Ah! Guess that's Hurley. It's a pity it's stopped snowing."

It was necessary to cling to the sleigh tightly, for the going was fast and furious. There was no time to watch for obstacles ahead, while the snow covered the land so completely that deep brooks crossing their line of flight were not seen till they were on to them, and then there was a mighty shaking. The dogs, spurred on by the cracking whip, leaped across the hollow. The sleigh bumped across with a great jolting which tossed those aboard it to either side; but still they clung tight, while the little hunter, seeing that a sleigh was following, nimbly turned about, spread himself face downward on the top of the sleigh, and placed his rifle before him.

"You jest take and sit on my legs, Joe," he called; "then ef there's a bad jolt I'll still be here. It won't make no difference to my shootin', and it's likely to save delay. Ef I was to roll over you'd have to stop, and that'd be serious."

Joe promptly did as he was asked, tucking the legs of the little hunter beneath him, and placing a blanket across them before he sat down. He could then afford to turn his own head and watch the enemy. Away behind them, tearing along at reckless speed, and at such a rate that a cloud of white was thrown up in front of each runner for all the world as if the sleigh were a ship at sea, Hurley and his comrades came chasing after the trio they had fondly hoped to kill. A figure crouched just behind the dogs, and the frosty air brought the sound of his shouts and the crack of the dog whip he wielded. A second figure was bundled up behind him, the face of the man on the shoulder of the driver, while a pair of staring eyes peered at the sleigh ahead. Hurley sat right aft, his bulky form overlapping the sides of the sleigh, his head and shoulders well above his comrades. The moon, playing upon the scene, showed a rod projecting upward from a point just in front of the murderer, and at once Joe knew it was a rifle. He saw the ruffian lean forward and shout at his men, and then watched as he rose still higher – evidently he was half-kneeling and half-sitting – his weapon was lifted into a horizontal position and went to his shoulder. It was clear, in fact, that Hurley was about to fire.

"Best get down flat, every one of us," cried Hank, in warning tones. "Beaver Jack, you lie flat same as me, facing forward. You'll still be able to steer, and kin use the whip ef it's wanted. Then Joe kin stretch hisself out on top of the two of us. It'll be a cramping business, but it aer better'n bein' shot."

Such gymnastic efforts upon a sleigh rocking from side to side was no easy matter. But when there is a man within reasonable distance whose rifle is presented, and any moment may bring a bullet, the most difficult of evolutions are carried out with wonderful rapidity. In this case, Beaver Jack swivelled himself round with a dexterity there was no denying. Then Joe turned entirely, for he wished to have his eyes behind him all the while and watch Hurley. A second or so later he was also lying flat, his weight helping to hold the Redskin to the sleigh, while he gripped Hank now by the ankles. But he was hardly in position when a puff of smoke burst from the rifle held by the burly figure at the back of the pursuing sleigh, there was a dull flash, then a bullet screamed past the heads of Hank and his friends. The reply to this was sent without delay by the little hunter.

"Missed!" he grunted. "Shootin' at a moving object ain't never too easy with a rifle, but when the consarn you're fixed on is movin' itself as well, why, a hit aer often a chance. Guess Hurley ha' got his eye in."

It was a cold-blooded observation, hardly likely to encourage either. But the grin on Hank's face showed that he himself was not greatly concerned by the close approach of a second bullet which Hurley had fired. For Joe, one can only say that he watched the duel fascinated, fear for his own person lost in his interest. Once again he saw Hurley's rifle lifted, saw the smoke belch from the muzzle, and then heard – almost felt, one might say, without exaggeration – the passage of the bullet.

Hank chuckled. "This here lyin'-down position bothers him fine," he cried. "He aer got to drop his muzzle a whole heap before he hits us. But I'm not the one to give chances; I'm going to pick off that Hurley."

Up went his own rifle, for Hank leaned on one elbow. He took a long and careful aim and then pulled his trigger; but the result was not what he had anticipated. As he himself had said, shooting was extremely difficult under such circumstances, for the sleigh swayed and jolted horribly. But the bullet missed the ruffian at whom it was aimed only because there was another man in front of him. Of a sudden the driver of the pursuing sleigh dropped his whip and doubled up, his chin on his chest. Then he swayed a little, and, as if with a mighty effort, gathered all his strength and threw himself backward, pulling on the reins and bringing his team to a standstill. But it was his last action. He toppled over to the left and fell into the snow.

"Wrong man; sorry," Hank jerked out grimly. "Hurley'll have it next time. I'll wait a bit to get him closer."

The chase after that settled down a little, Hank holding his fire, while Hurley himself copied the example of the little hunter and spread himself out flat on his sleigh, his new driver also. But this was apparent, with a lighter load the enemy were getting nearer.

"Ef that's the case, we'll make a stop precious soon," said Hank. "What say, Joe?"

"I'm with you. We're three now to their two, and if we could face eight of them some little while ago, surely we could – "

His argument came to an abrupt ending at that moment, for a wide ditch with vertical banks carved out by nature crossed their path, and the snow hid it from view. It was more than likely that the snow had formed a species of bridge over this deep hollow; but, in any case, it broke down as the last of the team of dogs crossed, causing the front end of the sleigh to dip suddenly. The runners cannoned against the iron-hard banks, and in a twinkling sleigh and men went flying.

"Surely we could face those two," gasped Joe, as if continuing the sentence where circumstances had caused it to be so abruptly broken, and at the same time picking himself up from the bank of snow into which he had been thrown. "Here's fine cover. This ditch will hide us completely."

He threw himself down into the deep hollow at once, and found that he had quite a high bank before him, over which he had to lift his head to see the enemy. Hurley marked the occasion by firing at him, and his bullet swished past within an inch, causing Joe to duck suddenly. As for Hank, the sudden upset seemed to have caused him vast amusement, and certainly he wasn't in the smallest degree hurt, though, being at the rear of the sleigh, he had been thrown over the heads of his comrades and had come down sprawling amongst the dogs. He picked up himself and his weapon instantly and crept to Joe's side, still grinning widely, while Beaver Jack, undisturbed by the upset, his gravity of demeanour and his native dignity not in the least degree ruffled, coolly turned the sleigh the right way up, dragged it backward, and called hoarsely to the dogs to lie down.

"We war jest meant to stop and have it out with them critters," said Hank, when he had shaken the snow out of his eyes and mouth. "Gee! that war a tumble. Lucky fer us there's soft snow. Ef it had been on bare ice, there's some of us would have had cracked heads. Ha! Hurley ha' thought better of coming along towards us. Guess this business is gettin' a little more serious than he wanted. Yer see, he had jest three at fust, three as didn't know he was following. Now he's got the same three, and only one to help him agin them. You sit low, lad; bullets has a way of striking jest when they ain't expected."

His own head went down of a sudden, while a bullet buzzed above them. Evidently it must have gone extremely near to the Redskin, who was then crawling towards them, for Beaver Jack's impassive face broke into a smile. His sensitive lips actually curled, those deep-set, penetrating eyes twinkled, while his curious chin went up and seemed almost to embrace the tip of the hooked nose.

"None the wuss if you ain't hit, mate," laughed Hank. "Joe, how do yer like bullets flyin' close beside you?"

To look at our hero it was an experience which he enjoyed, for he was smiling. But it was not because of the bullets. He was smiling at the sudden change in their fortunes, at the complete success of the special efforts which he and Hank had made, and at the thought that, instead of being chased by Hurley now, they might well turn the tables on him.

"We've a duty to do," he said so sharply, that the little hunter swung round upon him.

"Eh? Duty?" he asked.

"Yes; there's a murderer, a criminal wanted by the law. Our duty is to take him, so that he can do no more mischief."

"In course," came the ready answer, "that's what we're going to do. See here, Joe, I don't return to the settlements till we've got our man or rubbed him out entirely. It's the same thing to me whichever happens; only stop his game we will."

"Right! I'm with you," cried Joe.

"Then jest look spry and don't get standin' in the way of his rifle," grunted Hank, as he peered cautiously at the enemy.