CHAPTER XV
TWO RED RIDING HOODS
Before Phi struck out for the unknown land which had so suddenly thrustitself into his line of vision, he paused to ask himself the questionwhether he had come upon some island or a point on the mainland.Finding himself unable to answer the question, he at once set plans forreaching that land.
The rifle, now a useless incumbrance, he left leaning against anup-ended cake of ice. That shore, if not lifted high by a mirage, wasat least ten miles away. And ten miles to a boy and dog who haveappeased their hunger for three days with two small birds, is no meandistance.
Bravely they struck out. Now they crossed a broad, level pan and nowclimbed a gigantic pile of bowlder-like fragments that rolled andslipped at their every move, threatening to send them crashing to thesurface of the ice-pans or to submerge them in the deep, open pool ofstinging water that lay at its base.
Exercising every precaution, the boy made his way slowly forward. Morethan once he paused to wait for the dog, time after time lifting himover a dangerous crevice or assisting him in climbing a particularlydifficult barrier.
"I know you'd help me if you could," he said with a smile as hemoistened his cracked lips, "so if we go down, we go together."
Time after time, dizzy-headed and faint, he sat down to rest, only torise after a moment and struggle on again. At times, too, he wasobliged to shake himself free from the spells of drowsiness which thechill wind and brisk Arctic air threw over him.
"We--we'll make it, old boy. We--we'll make it," he repeated over andover.
Little by little the landscape broadened before them. The bit ofrugged shore line which lay there like a vision might be a point ofland on the continent of North America or of Asia. Then again it mightbe the side of an island. Phi thought of this in a vague sort of way.His chief desire to put foot once more on something that did not driftwith wind and tide, he bent every effort to making the goal.
At last, after what seemed days of struggle, he stood within a quarterof a mile of the shore.
The ice was piling on that shore, a scene of disordered grandeur beyonddescription. It was as if the streets of a city, six or eight feet inthickness and solid as marble, should suddenly begin to rise, tobuckle, to glide length upon length in wild confusion. For some timethe boy and the dog stood upon the last broad pan that did not pileand, lost in speechless wonder, viewed that marvel of nature with theeyes of unconcerned spectators.
At last the boy shook himself free from the charm. "Rover," there wasawe in his tone, "do you know what we must do? We must cross that andreach that shore before the wind shifts or we are lost."
As if understanding his meaning, the dog lifted his nose in air andsong, the dismal song known only to the sled dog of the Arctic.
"Well--here goes!"
Phi scrambled to the surface of a gliding cake, then, having racedacross its surface, leaped a narrow chasm, to race on again. Such anobstacle race had never before been entered into by a boy and a dog.Rover, seeming to have regained some of the spirit of his younger days,followed well. Once, with a dismal howl, he fell into a crevice, butbefore an ice-pan could rear up and crush him, a strong arm dragged himfree.
They had made two-thirds of the distance when, on a broad pan thatshuddered as if torn by an earthquake, Phi paused. One glance at therocky coast brought a sharp exclamation to his lips.
"It's like the wall of a prison," he muttered; "straight up.
"No," he whispered a moment later, "there's a bare chance--that rockyshelf. But it's fifteen feet above the ice, and how's one to reach it?There may be a way. One can but try."
They were off again. Each fresh escape brought them face to face withnew and more startling dangers. Here they were lifted in air, to leapaway just in time from a crash. Here they crossed a pile of crushedand slivered fragments only to face a dark and yawning pool of saltwater waiting to sting them into insensibility. But always there was away out. Each moment brought them closer to the frowning wall.
A last, close-up survey told the boy that there was no path, noslanting incline, no rugged steps to the shelf above. But from theshelf upward there appeared to be a possible ascent.
At that moment he saw something that made him catch his breath hard. Agigantic ice-pan, measuring hundreds of feet from side to side, hadbegun to glide upward over a mass of broken fragments toward that cliff.
"It will go as high as the shelf if it hasn't too many seams," he saidaloud. "It may go up. And it may crash. But it's our only chance."
He looked at the dog. That the old fellow could make this periloustrip, could mount himself on the very edge of a giant, tilting cake ofice and ride up--up--up, inch by inch and foot by foot, to pause therea breathless distance in mid-air and then at the one critical second,leap to safety on the rocky shelf, the boy did not dream for a moment.Yet he had no thought of leaving Rover behind.
"Come on," he said quietly, "we'll make it somehow, or we'll go downtogether."
Mounting the tilting monster, they stationed themselves at its veryedge and stood there motionless, a boy and a dog in the very midst ofone of nature's most stupendous demonstrations of power.
A long minute passed--two--three. They were now ten feet in air; theshelf, a yawning distance still before them, appeared to frown downupon them. To the right of them an ice-pan half the size of the one onwhich they rode, having come within some ten feet of the wall, brokeand crumpled down with a crash.
Still their cake glided on. Now they were fifteen feet from the shelf,now ten. A running jump for the boy would land him safely on theledge. But there was the dog. There came a creaking grind, asnapping, crashing sound, then silence. The pan had broken in two.Half of it had broken off under the strain. The part on which theyrode still stood firm. They were now twenty feet in air. A dark poolof water lay beneath them. The boy gave one glance at the blue heavensand the blinking stars; then, stooping, he picked up the dog and heldhim in his arms. He stood there like a statue, a magnificent symbol ofcalm in the midst of all this confusion.
With the ice still gliding upward, holding his breath, as if in fearthat the very force of it might send the hundreds of tons crashing tothe abyss below. Phi waited the closing of the gap.
Eight feet, seven, six, five, four.
"Now!" he breathed.
His right foot lifted, his left stiffened, his body shot forward.
The next moment there was a sickening crash--the ice-pan had broken ina thousand pieces. But the boy and the dog, saved by a timely leap,lay prone upon the surface of the rocky cliff.
For some time the boy lay sprawled upon the rocky ledge motionless.This last supreme effort had drawn out his last reserve of nervousenergy. Amid the shrill scream of grinding ice rising from the tossingmass below, he lay as one whose ears are closed forever to sound.
The dog, with ears dropping, eyes intent, lay watching him. At lasthis tail wagged gently to and fro--there had been a flutter of motionin the boy's right hand. Meekly the dog crawled forward to lick theglove that covered that hand with his rough tongue. At that the boyraised himself to a sitting position, and, rubbing his eyes, staredabout him.
"Rover, old boy," he drawled at last, "that was what you might call aclose squeak."
The dog rose and wagged his tail.
"Rover," the boy said solemnly, "I took a long chance for you justthen. Why did I do it? If you'd been the leader of my team forseveral winters before old age overtook you; if you'd maybe pulled meout of some blizzard where I'd have frozen to death if it hadn't beenfor your keen sense of smell, which enabled you to follow the trail,there'd have been some sense to it. But you weren't and you didn't;you're only a poor, old, heroic specimen someone has played traitor toand deserted in old age. Well, that's enough of that; we're on landnow. What land is it? What are the people like? When do we eat?That last question is most important for the moment. What say we tryscaling the cliff and then look about a bit?"
The dog barked his approval. Together they began scaling the cliff,which at times appeared to confront them as an unsurmountable barrierand at others offered a gently rising slope of shale and rock.
* * * * * *
When Lucile and Marian had made sure that there were no people in thedeserted native village, they returned to the mysterious bungalow.
"We've got to get in there," said Marian, "don't matter whose it is."
Searching about, she found a stout pole. With this she pried off aboard from a window, then another and another.
"Give me a lift," she said, raising one foot from the ground.
Once boosted up she found that the window was not locked. The sashwent up with a surprising bang, and the next instant she was inside andassisting Lucile to enter.
The place had a hollow sound. "Like an old, empty church," said Marian.
Lucile scratched a match. They were in a large room which wasabsolutely empty. A hasty exploration of the three remaining rooms,which were much smaller, revealed the same state of affairs.
"Now what," said Lucile, knitting her brows in deep thought, "do youthink of that?"
"Anyway, it's dry, and not too cold," said Marian.
"But it's empty, and I'm hungry. Say!" she exclaimed quickly, "youbring in our things; I'll be back."
She bounded out of the window and hurried away toward the nativevillage, which lay silent in the moonlight.
Marian had succeeded in dragging their sleeping-bag and otherbelongings through the window and was there waiting when Lucile calledfrom outside:
"Here, take this!"
"How heavy!" exclaimed Marian. And a moment later, upon receiving thesecond object, "How cold!"
"The first," said Lucile, "is a flat, native seal-oil lamp. We canburn our seal-oil in it. I have a handful of moss in my pocket tostring along the side for wick. It'll make it more cheery and it'llseem warmer. The other," she went on, "is a frozen whitefish; found iton one of the caches. Guess the natives won't miss it if they comeback."
"If they do. But where are they?" asked Marian in a puzzled tone ofvoice.
"Dead, perhaps. Let's eat," she added abruptly, as Marian shivered.
"But, Lucile, we can't cook the fish."
"Don't have to. Frozen fish is good raw if it's frozen hard enough.I've tried it before. You just shave it off thin like chipped driedbeef and gulp it right down before it tastes too fishy."
Marian did not think she would like it, but she found it not half bad.
When they had dined, and had sat by the yellow glow of their seal-oillamp for a time, they took a good long look at the moon as it shone outover the shimmering whiteness of the sea.
"That," said Marian impressively, "is the same moon that is shining onall our friends wherever they are to-night."
The thought gave them a deal of comfort.
When, in time, their sleeping-bag was spread out on the floor, and theyhad snuggled comfortably down into its soft depths and were ready to gooff into the land of dreams, with their seal-oil lamp still flickeringin one corner, Marian said with a laugh: "Snug as two little Red RidingHoods."
"Yes, but if the big bear comes home?" murmured Lucile.
"He won't," said Marian with conviction. But the next moment her faithwas shattered. There came a sound from without, and the next instantsome heavy object banged against the door.
"What was that?" both exclaimed at once in hoarse whispers.