The Gold Hunters | Page 3

nostrils. Somewhere
on that trail there were men, and other dogs, and they were to overtake
them!
Even now, bleeding and stumbling as they ran, the blood of battle, the
excitement of the chase, was hot within them. Half-wolf, half-dog, their
white fangs snarling as stronger whiffs of the man-smell came to them,
they were filled with the savage desperation of the youth who urged
them on. The keen instinct of the wild pointed out their road to them,
and they needed no guiding hand. Faithful until the last they dragged
on their burden, their tongues lolling farther from their jaws, their
hearts growing weaker, their eyes bloodshot until they glowed like red
balls. Now and then, when he had run until his endurance was gone,
Wabigoon would fling himself upon the sledge to regain breath and rest
his limbs, and the dogs would tug harder, scarce slackening their speed
under the increased weight. Once a huge moose crashed through the
forest a hundred paces away, but the huskies paid no attention to it; a
little farther on a lynx, aroused from his sun bath on a rock, rolled like
a great gray ball across the trail,--the dogs cringed but for an instant at
the sight of this mortal enemy of theirs, and then went on.
Slower and slower grew the pace. The rearmost dog was now no more
than a drag, and reaching a keen-edged knife far out over the end of the
sledge Wabi severed his breast strap and the exhausted animal rolled
out free beside the trail. Two others of the team were pulling scarce a
pound, another was running lame, and the trail behind was spotted with
pads of blood. Each minute added to the despair that was growing in
the youth's face. His eyes, like those of his faithful dogs, were red from
the terrible strain of the race, his lips were parted, his legs, as tireless as
those of a red deer, were weakening under him. More and more
frequently he flung himself upon the sledge, panting for breath, and
shorter and shorter became his intervals of running between these
periods of rest. The end of the chase was almost at hand. They could

not overtake the Hudson Bay mail!
With a final cry of encouragement Wabi sprang from the sledge and
plunged along at the head of the dogs, urging them on in one last
supreme effort. Ahead of them was a break in the forest trail and
beyond that, mile upon mile, stretched the vast white surface of Lake
Nipigon. And far out in the glare of sun and snow there moved an
object, something that was no more than a thin black streak to Wabi's
blinded eyes but which he knew was the dog mail on its way to
civilization. He tried to shout, but the sound that fell from his lips could
not have been heard a hundred paces away; his limbs tottered beneath
him; his feet seemed suddenly to turn into lead, and he sank helpless
into the snow. The faithful pack crowded about him licking his face
and hands, their hot breath escaping between their gaping jaws like
hissing steam For a few moments it seemed to the Indian youth that day
had suddenly turned into night. His eyes closed, the panting of the dogs
came to him more and more faintly, as if they were moving away; he
felt himself sinking, sinking slowly down into utter blackness.
Desperately he fought to bring himself back into life. There was one
more chance--just one! He heard the dogs again, he felt their tongues
upon his hands and face, and he dragged himself to his knees, groping
out with his hands like one who had gone blind. A few feet away was
the sledge, and out there, far beyond his vision now, was the Hudson
Bay mail!
Foot by foot he drew himself out from among the tangle of dogs. He
reached the sledge, and his fingers gripped convulsively at the cold
steel of his rifle. One more chance! One more chance! The words--the
thought--filled his brain, and he raised the rifle to his shoulder, pointing
its muzzle up to the sky so that he would not harm the dogs. And then,
once, twice, five times he fired into the air, and at the end of the fifth
shot he drew fresh cartridges from his belt, and fired again and again,
until the black streak far out in the wilderness of ice and snow stopped
in its progress--and turned back. And still the sharp signals rang out
again and again, until the barrel of Wabi's rifle grew hot, and his
cartridge belt was empty.

Slowly the gloom cleared away before his eyes. He heard a shout, and
staggered to his feet, stretching