Silver Lake | Page 4

dried and smoked, and contained no substance whatever that could sustain life. Wapaw was aware of this--nevertheless he singed a portion of it until it was reduced almost to ashes, and mingling a little snow with this, ate it greedily.
Then, raising his eyes to the sky with a long earnest gaze, he sat immovable, until the sinking fire and the increasing cold recalled his wandering faculties.
There was a wild, glassy look about the Indian's eyes now, which probably resulted from exhaustion. He seemed to struggle several times to rouse himself before he succeeded; shuddering with intense cold, he crept to the little pile of firewood, and placed several billets on the fire, which speedily blazed up again, and the dying man cowered over it, regardless of the smoke which ever and anon wreathed round his drooping head.
In a few minutes Wapaw started up as if new energy had been infused into him. He placed his gun, axe, firebag, and powder-horn by themselves on the ground; then he wrapped himself in his blanket and lay slowly down beside them with his feet towards the fire. For a few minutes he lay on his back, gazing earnestly upwards, while his lips moved slowly, but no sound issued from them. Then he turned wearily on his side, and, covering his head with the blanket and turning his face towards the ground, he resigned himself to death.
But God had ordained that, at that time, the red man should not die.
About the time when he lay down, our hunters emerged upon the plain which had caused the Indian to despair.
"It's of no use goin' farther," observed Robin, as he and his companions stood at the edge of the forest and looked across the plain; "the wind blows too hard, and the drift is keen; besides there ain't much to be got hereaway, even in seasons of plenty."
"Father! is that smoke risin' over the bluff yonder?" asked Roy, pointing with his finger as he spoke.
"No doubt of it, lad."
"Indians, may be," said Walter.
Robin shook his head. "Don't think so," said he, "for the redskins don't often come to see me at this time o' the year. But we'll go see; an' look to your primin', lads--if it's a war-party we'll ha' to fight, mayhap, if we don't run."
The three hunters crossed the plain in the teeth of the howling drift, and cautiously approached the bluff referred to by Roy, and from behind which the smoke ascended.
"It's a camp fire," whispered Robin, as he glanced back at his companions, "but I see no one there. They must have just left the place."
There was a shade of anxiety in the hunter's voice as he spoke, for he thought of Fort Enterprise, its defenceless condition, and the possibility of the Indians having gone thither.
"They can't have gone to the Fort," said Walter, "else we should have seen their tracks on the way hither."
"Come," said Robin, stepping forward quickly, "we can see their tracks now, anyhow, and follow them up, and if they lead to the Fort."
The hunter did not finish his sentence, for at that moment he caught sight of the recumbent form of Wapaw in the camp.
"Hist! A redskin alone, and asleep! Well, I never did 'xpect to see that."
"Mayhap, he's a decoy-duck," suggested Walter. "Better look sharp out."
Robin and Roy heeded not the caution. They at once went forward, and the father lifted the blanket from the Indian's head.
"Dead!" exclaimed Roy, in a solemn tone.
"Not yet, lad! but I do b'lieve the poor critter's a'most gone wi' starvation. Come, bestir you, boys--rouse up the fire, and boil the kettle."
Walter and Roy did not require a second bidding. The kettle was ere long singing on a blazing fire. The Indian's limbs were chafed and warmed; a can of hot tea was administered, and Wapaw soon revived sufficiently to look up and thank his deliverers.
"Now, as good luck has it, I chanced to leave my hand-sled at the Wolf's Glen. Go, fetch it, Roy," said Robin.
The lad set off at once, and, as the glen was not far distant, soon returned with a flat wooden sledge, six feet long by eighteen inches broad, on which trappers are wont to pack their game in winter. On this sledge Wapaw was firmly tied, and dragged by the hunters to Fort Enterprise.
"Hast got a deer, father?" cried little Nelly, as she bounded in advance of her mother to meet the returning party.
"No, Nelly--'tis dearer game than that."
"What? a redskin!" exclaimed Dame Gore in surprise; "is he dead?"
"No, nor likely to die," said Robin, "he's in a starvin' state though, an'll be none the worse of a bit of our New Year's dinner. Here is game enough for one meal an' more; come, lass, get it ready as fast as may be."
So saying