"Davy! Davy! Davy!" Andy shouted, half sobbing, with the break of the nervous strain.

The door of the tilt opened, and David, bareheaded and wildly excited, came rushing out.

"Oh, Andy! Andy! Is you safe?" he cried, pa.s.sing his arm around Andy's shoulder in a depth of affection and pa.s.sionate relief, and drawing Andy into the warm tilt, while Andy made a brave effort to restrain his tears.

"Oh, Davy!" broke in Andy, half crying with joy. "I were fearin' for you so! I were thinkin' of you out there--in th' mesh--dead! And oh, Davy, I were--afraid--afraid for you!"

"And I were afraid for you, Andy!" choked David. "I were never doubtin' you were lost and perished! I couldn't sleep for thinkin' of un, and I couldn't go to look for you with th' drift and darkness! I just had t' 'bide here till day broke! I tries and tries t' go, but th' drift drove me back, and I knows I'll have t' wait for day."

While Andy removed his outer garments and David prepared breakfast, Andy described his experiences, and how he had made his shelter.

"Doctor Joe's song helped me a wonderful lot," said he. "It's turned out t' be a true song, too. We were both safe, and there wasn't anything for either of us t' worry about after all. And, Davy, I kept my grit, now, didn't I?"

"That you did!" declared David admiringly. "Even Indian Jake or Pop couldn't have fixed out a better place t' 'bide till th' storm pa.s.sed."

"Davy," said Andy reverently, "I'm thinkin' th' Lard were lookin' out for us, now, weren't he, Davy? And--Davy--maybe Mother was lookin' out for us, too!"

"Aye," said David, "th' Lard _were_ lookin' out for us, and I'm not doubtin' Mother was near, and helpin' us, too."

While they ate their breakfast David told of his own experiences.

"After I runs on th' deer footin' crossin' th' path," he explained, "I sets right out t' get you, Andy. But all at once I thinks that, th'

footin' being fresh, th' deer is like as not 'bidin' right handy, and if I loses time goin' for you I might miss un. So I turns back and goes after un."

"I sees where they makes a turn and gets scared, but I weren't thinkin' o' wolves, and I keeps hurryin' on. I must have been right handy to un when I hears a wolf howl, and right after that I comes t'

th' place where th' deer turned down toward th' mesh again and th'

wolf tracks came in. Then I knows they're gone, and there's no use keepin' after un.

"I turns down then by a short cut t' th' next trap beyond where I leaves th' trail t' turn into th' green woods. Snow were just beginnin' t' spit as I comes out on th' mesh."

"It were just beginnin' t' spit," broke in Andy, "as I goes in th'

woods."

"You must have turned into th' woods t' th' westward of where I comes out, and that's why I didn't see you," suggested David.

"When I gets t' our trail I sees your footin' comin' this way. Th'

snow wasn't enough yet t' cover un, so I could tell 'twas fresh footin'. I says t' myself, 'Andy's got hungry and tired waitin' for me, and he's gone back t' th' tilt. He's tended th' traps t' th'

east'ard, and I'll take a short cut."

"I didn't hurry, and before I gets out of th' mesh snow was comin'

thick and th' wind was rising, and it was gettin' pretty nasty on th'

mesh.

"When I gets t' th' tilt and finds you're not here I'm thinkin' you've just been a bit slow, and that you'll be along soon.

"So I puts a fire on and boils th' kettle. When th' kettle boils and you don't come, I puts on my 'diky and goes out t' th' mesh t' look. I never saw th' wind rise th' way she had in that little while. It took me off my feet and sent me flat when I tries t' face un. Then I knows I can't go on th' mesh t' look for you, and I knows you can't stay there and live.

"I was scared! I tries four or five times t' get out t' look for you, Andy, but I has t' give un up."

"I'm thinkin' you couldn't go far in _that_ drift!" exclaimed Andy. "I tried un too, and she knocked me flat."

"Well," concluded David, "that was all I could do, except t' pray th'

Lard t' spare your life, Andy. I had t' 'bide here, and 'twas th'

hardest night I ever spent, waitin' here alone for day t' come so's I could look for you, and sore afraid for you, Andy. 'Twas your grit, b'y, that pulled you through."

"And I tries," said Andy, "t' keep a stout heart like a man's, but at th' end, when I was most t' th' tilt, I had t'--give in."

"You kept a wonderful stout heart, Andy," David declared admiringly.

"I'd have given up before you did, I knows. I'm doubtin' I ever could have made th' fine shelter you made, too."

While the storm had probably not covered the marten traps, perched as they were upon high stumps, and under cover of the woods, the exposed fox traps on the marsh were doubtless all clogged by drift, and would be ineffective unless cleared. The cross fox, too, which Andy had killed and left in the trap, must be secured. It was deemed advisable, therefore, to attend to these duties at once.

It was full daylight when the boys set out upon their day's work. The wind had settled now into a cold, cutting breeze, which was disagreeable enough but which did not interfere with rapid walking.

They scanned the marsh for signs of the caribou but no evidences were found. With wolves on their trail the caribou had doubtless fled the country, and with them, immediate prospects of fresh venison.

"'Twere too bad we missed un," David deplored. "I was almost to un, I knows, when th' wolves started in. I wish we could get some deer's meat."

With every day the wilderness was becoming more naked and stern and repellant. In the forest the snow had risen until it reached and enveloped the lower limbs of the trees. Ravines were nearly filled with snow. Willow brush, forming barriers around the marshes, were now quite hidden by great drifts, and rose in mighty ramparts of snow. The business of following the fur trails was growing more difficult with every round of the traps. But the depths of winter had not yet been reached. In the weeks to come the grip of Arctic cold was to tighten still harder and harder upon the bleak wilderness and the living things that occupied it. The two lads had a man's game to play, and they were to have need enough of all the grit they possessed.

XV

A DAY ON THE ICE

Save on rare occasions Indian Jake was silent, and it seemed to the boys sullen. He had told them little of his success on the trail, or whether or not his hunt was good. But when they appeared at the Narrows tilt and told of their adventures with the wolves and with the storm, his stoic Indian reserve vanished for the evening. He asked many questions. He appeared deeply concerned and wished to know of their daily experiences, and details of the furs they had acc.u.mulated in the other tilts.

"You're making a fine hunt," he complimented. "As fine a hunt as your father could have made."

"We've got a fine lot o' fur," admitted David, with just pride, "but we been hopin' for a silver fox."

"That isn't strange," and the half-breed smiled, in his peculiar way.

"Every hunter is looking for a silver fox all the time, but not many get 'em."

"If we don't get un," said David, "Andy and me have made a good hunt anyhow, and we won't be complainin' about un."

"That we have," seconded Andy.

"A fine hunt," agreed Indian Jake.

"How have you been doin', Jake?" asked David "You never say much about un."

"Not so bad," admitted Indian Jake.

"Have you got much fur?" persisted David.

"Oh, I've got some. I been thinkin'," suggested Indian Jake, turning the subject, as he always did, from himself to the boys, "that you lads better bring all your furs from the other tilts down here to the Narrows tilt."