# The Trail of the Golden Horn/Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14
Life for Life
THE sergeant picked up a piece of wood and was about to throw it on the fire, when a shout in the direction of the trail arrested his attention. He dropped the stick, stared in amazement, his heart beating fast. At first he thought he must have been mistaken, but when the shout was repeated he answered with a whoop that echoed through the forest’s silent reaches. Ere long he heard the sound of someone plowing his way through the snow, straight toward him. In a few minutes Rolfe appeared, his face very white, except one check which was streaked with blood, and his clothes torn. For an instant he stared first at the sergeant and then at Marion, who had risen to a sitting position. Then overcome by weakness and excitement, he dropped upon the snow near the fire. His hands clawed the air, as if warding off some invisible foe. His eyes were big with terror. North stepped to his side and laid a firm hand upon his shoulder.
“Come, buck up, old man,” he ordered. “You’re all right.”
That touch and the friendly word of cheer brought Rolfe to his senses. The wild expression left his eyes, and his uplifted hands dropped.
“Lord, it was awful!” he moaned. “It was hell let loose.”
Then he looked over at Marion.
​“Excuse me, Miss Brisbane,” he apologized. “But I am hardly myself after what I have just gone through. I am mighty glad, though, to find you and the sergeant safe. How in the world did you escape? I was sure that you were buried down there in the valley.”
“We do not know how we escaped,” Marion replied, while a tremor shook her body. “The Lord must have been with us, I guess. But we got off better than you did. Something has happened to you. There is blood upon your face.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, I assure you, Miss Brisbane, Something hit me a glancing blow, a broken limb of a tree, I think, as I was struggling out of the clutch of that monster. I was only a few steps behind you, and how I got clear I have no idea. It was a terrible fight, and I was nearly smothered. Then the first thing I knew I was wedged up against a tree till I thought every bone in my body was being crushed. I lost consciousness and when I came to everything was still, and I was lying at the foot of a big fir with snow all around me. I was sure that you two were gone and that I alone was saved.”
“Why did you shout if you thought we were lost?” North asked.
“I hardly know why, except that I was half crazy and just whooped. I guess I was just like an infant crying in the night, and with no language but a cry. I must have done it unconsciously.”
“It was mighty lucky you did, Rolfe, for I never thought of looking for you up there. But I don’t think you can help us out any. We’re in a bad fix, with not a scrap of food.”
“I know it,” the constable replied. “One of us will have to foot it, I guess, to The Gap for grub. There’s ​nothing here. We might get a few rabbits or ptarmigan. Now, if I had my rifle, I might get a moose, for they’re quite thick down there in the valley along that wild meadow. But what can one do with a revolver, for that’s all I have left.”
“Same here,” North replied. “I was afraid I had lost mine but it’s all right. Now, look, something’s got to be done at once if we’re going to have any breakfast. You stay here with Marion and keep the fire going. I’m anxious to see what pranks that snow-slide has cut up where it stopped. I have heard men tell queer stories about such things, but always believed they were lying. I hope to goodness they weren’t.”
“Will you be gone long, John?” Marion anxiously asked. “Don’t run any risk.”
“There is no danger,” North assured. “It should not take me many minutes. I hope to get something for breakfast.”
The sergeant made his way to the great scar caused by the snow-slide, and found easy walking here. It did not take him long to descend the steep hill, the big moon making the night almost as bright as day. He was astonished at the havoc which had been wrought by the descending monster. Large trees had been snapped like pipe stems before the terrific impact of thousands of tons of snow and ice, and hurled in a confused and gigantic mass down into the valley. He followed the course until he came to the level where the avalanche had been stayed. When he could proceed no farther on the clean-swept way, he plunged into the snow to the right and began to circle the heaped-up mass. He kept a sharp look-out, hoping to find some portion of the camping outfit. But nothing could he ​see. Dogs, food, sleds and provisions had evidently been buried far out of sight.
After he had gone some distance, surprised at the width of the slide, he decided to return. The snow was deep and the travelling difficult. There was nothing that he could see except snow and tangled masses of trees. He stopped and looked keenly in every direction, but not a sign of bird or animal could he see. He knew that farther away he might come across something, but he had not the strength to battle for any distance through such deep snow. Sergeant North was not easily discouraged, but a hopeless feeling now smote his heart. What was he to do? How could he or Rolfe ever reach The Gap without snow-shoes? It would take days to go and return with food, but if overtaken by a storm, the journey would be impossible. Marion could not make the journey, he was well aware, for if a strong man accustomed to the trails would find the task an Herculean one, what could a frail woman do? There was Hugo’s cabin to which they might return. But that, too, was a long way back, and they would be but little better off when they got there, as far as food was concerned.
He thought, too, of the valuable time he was losing. Bill, the Slugger, would reach The Gap and escape to the mountains far beyond the strong arm of the law. What would his commanding officer think of him? He knew the stern code of the Force and what was expected of every member, and here he was tricked by circumstances over which he had no control.
He was about to retrace his steps when a slight noise just ahead arrested his attention. He whipped his revolver from its holster, and peered forward, keenly alert. For a few seconds he could see nothing. Then ​he noticed a slight movement in the snow near a mass of tangled trees. Cautiously advancing, he ere long saw something which thrilled his whole being. It was a moose, entrapped in the very forefront of the avalanche, and feebly threshing its great antlers in its death struggle. Drawing nearer, North saw that the animal’s hinder parts were caught and crushed beneath a heavy tree while the rest of its body was free. He knew now that what he had been told was no fiction, that moose, bear, deer, and lesser animals were sometimes overwhelmed as they sped before the terror of the mountains. This animal had evidently been caught off guard near where the snow-slide had stopped. That the brute had made a desperate fight was most apparent, and as North stood watching its now feeble efforts a feeling of pity welled up in his heart for this unfortunate creature. But what was death to one was life to others, so drawing forth his sheath-knife, he at once put the animal out of misery.
This sudden and unexpected incident filled North with renewed hope. There before him was food to last for several days. And the skin, which could be cut into long strips, what possibilities lay in that! He did not attempt to remove the tree from the body, knowing how useless that would be. But after the moose had bled freely, with his sharp knife he laid back a portion of the skin and cut off several slices of the warm, quivering flesh. This took him but a few minutes, and he then made his way back to his companions, his heart overflowing with joy and thankfulness.
This unexpected help in time of extremity seemed to Marion nothing else than providential.
“I was always interested in that story of Elijah in the wilderness,” she remarked as she watched the ser​geant broiling the meat over several hot coals. “Although I never really doubted that the Lord sent those ravens to feed him, yet in some way it always appeared to me like a fairy tale. But now I know that He does care, and will supply our needs.”
“I guess you’re right, Miss Brisbane,” Rolfe agreed, as he squatted before the fire. “From the way we have been helped it does look reasonable. Now, if ravens, or some other birds would come along and leave us a little salt to season that meat, and a few loaves of bread, it would add a great finishing touch to the whole affair.”
“You are too moderate in your wish,” Marion smilingly replied. “Why don’t you wish for a roast turkey, with all the fixings, and a big plum-pudding while you are about it?”
“Yes, and oranges, pears, cigars, and such things,” North retorted. “That’s the trouble with you, Tom, you’re never satisfied. Anyway, there’s nothing but this meat for breakfast without any fixings, so you’ve got to make the most of it.”
An hour later the three of them started to bring in a supply of moose meat. Marion, who was now fully recovered, was determined to go, too, and she enjoyed the tramp. When she saw the huge mass of snow and tangled trees she gave a cry of amazement. But when she beheld the body of the moose, her face became very pale.
“Isn’t it terrible!” she gasped. “I thought I was accustomed to horrible sights, seeing so many in the hospitals, but this is somehow different. How that poor animal must have struggled to free itself. Nature can be so gentle and beautiful at times, and again so stern and merciless.”
​“I hate it all,” North replied as he drew forth his knife, and set to work upon the moose. “Nature, as you call it, is always upsetting one’s plans. Look what a mess it has got us into here.”
“Master Tennyson said,” Rolfe reminded,
“‘I curse not nature, no, nor death, For nothing is that errs from law.’”
“Poetry again!” the sergeant growled. “I thought you were completely cured. Well, I guess Master Tennyson would have done some cursing if he had lived in a country such as this. Here, hold back this leg while I strip off the hide.”
Marion watched the men until their task was completed. They then returned to their camping-place, carrying with them the skin of the moose, and large pieces of meat. The fire was replenished, and the three sat down to rest.
“We must get to The Gap as soon as possible,” the sergeant began. “And to do so, we need snow-shoes. Tom, you get to work and cut up that skin into long strips as narrow as you can. I am going to look for some suitable wood. We shall have to manufacture our own outfit.”
“What! make snow-shoes?” the constable asked in surprise.
“Certainly. They will be clumsy affairs, I admit, but they will serve our purpose. Haven’t I told you how I made a pair years ago when my dogs made a meal of the sinews?”
“But you had the frames left, sergeant.”
“That’s true. But as I haven’t frames now, I am going to make them. I wish to goodness I had an axe. It is difficult to do anything with nothing but a ​knife. Anyway, it can’t be helped, so I must make the best of it.”
The sergeant was gone for over half an hour, and when he returned he was carrying with him a bundle of stout withes, consisting of alders and birch limbs. These he threw down near the fire and held his hands close to the genial heat. He looked at Marion, who was sitting upon the fir boughs, holding one end of a strip of the moose hide which the constable was carefully slicing. She was interested in her work, glad to be of some use. North thought that he never saw her look more beautiful, and when she lifted her head and saw the expression of admiration in the sergeant’s eyes, her cheeks took on a richer hue.
“This life certainly agrees with you,” he remarked. “You don’t seem to mind the cold.”
“Not while I have something to do,” was the reply. “I am glad to be able to help a little.”
North lost no time, but began at once making the frames for the snow-shoes. He worked with feverish haste, for every minute was precious. When Marion was not busy helping with the cutting of the skin, she sat watching him as he peeled the sticks, bent each into the proper shape, fastened the two ends together, set in the cross-bars, and lashed them securely to the frame. The weaving of the web was a more difficult task, but the sergeant showed Marion how it should be done, and she proved an apt pupil.
“You are to weave your own,” he informed her, “while Tom and I do ours. Let us see who will be done first.”
Then the friendly rivalry began, which was only interrupted as they rested, prepared, and ate some more broiled moose meat. This simple repast ended, they ​continued their work. Marion was the first to finish, and triumphantly she held up her snow-shoes for inspection. They were but poor clumsy affairs, yet they were to serve as means of deliverance.
Although contending with many difficulties, there was never one word of complaint uttered. The cold was intense, which even the fire could not overcome. Huddled as close as possible to the heat, their faces would be hot while their backs were chilled. No blankets had they to wrap about their bodies. Fir boughs were their only protection, and an abundance of these the men banked up around Marion, and then made a shelter for themselves on the opposite side of the fire. That night while the sergeant worked constructing a little rude toboggan out of a number of sticks and a portion of the frozen moose skin, Rolfe repeated numerous poems, to which Marion listened with much interest. Piece after piece he recited, grave, stirring and gay.
“Poetry has always been my reserve power,” he explained. “When I get downhearted, or in a tight place, a noble poem stirs me like martial music. There are two, especially, which have never failed me yet. The first is Newbolt’s ‘Play up, play up, and play the game.’ The other is Henley’s masterpiece, ‘The Captain.’ No doubt you know it, Miss Brisbane, but just listen to these words:
“‘Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods there be For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud, Beneath the bludgeonings of fate, My head is bloody, but unbowed.’”
Doesn’t it arouse one, make him stand up, face defeat, fight, and win? That is what it has done to me over and over again. Now, just listen to this last verse:
“‘It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishment the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the Captain of my soul.’”
Upon Rolfe’s face was an expression of great determination as he ended, and his glowing eyes were looking straight before him. To him the words were wonderfully real and effective. Marion, too, felt their spell, and even the heart of the matter-of-fact sergeant experienced a strange thrill.
“Tom, I never appreciated your poetry before,” the latter candidly confessed. “To me it was all doggerel, but I see it in a different light now. I am really glad to see that you have broken out again after your unusually long silence.”
The constable’s face beamed with pleasure, and he gave a sigh of relief.
“Good for you, sergeant!” he replied. “Now you can understand why General Wolfe recited Gray’s ‘Elegy in a Country Churchyard’ as he moved up the river to attack Quebec. We have often argued about that, and you always contended it was all nonsense. I am glad that you see light at last.”