# Tiberius Smith/Chapter 5
### V WHEN KNIGHTHOOD WORE SKATES

"IT required two weeks of resting to get Tib's face back into shape so he could look in a mirror without groaning. And I reckon he wasn't all kinds of a hero when Finzer and his men heard Fame hoarsely hooting his name all along the wide waters. Oh no! To rescue the kid was a good press-agent move, but the besting of Champion Chuck had the corner on salvos of praise. Finzer wanted to do two things—adopt us both for life and to organize a gold-hunting expedition. But beyond making him a present of what information we possessed, my patron would have no more to do with the Seal River and its strenuous environment. And in return for the information, which was largely guess-work, the agent promised to ship our baggage and picture-machine down to Montreal on the company's next steamer. He also consented to provide us with an escort and guides for a two-hundred-mile hike across country, to the eastern shores of Hudson Bay. The trip was quite easy, ​as the ice hadn't formed yet, and we made the most of it by water.
"Tib's object in going there was to arrange for a lifelike replica of a fur-trading station for one of the big expositions. He had been commissioned to do this stunt on the side, and the last steamer in at Tuvak had brought us letters to all the company's agents and factors. Once known that we'd never been in jail and could be trusted in a plumber's shop, coupled with Tib's reputation as a belt-lifter, our course to Mosquito Bay was made smooth and gracious and covered amid the hearty applause of densely whiskered men all along the route. At the inlet we waited two days for the company's bay steamer to pick us up and hustle us across several hundred tedious miles to the Swamp House. Here we were to arrange for a fur exhibit, a posse of trappers and hunters and a parcel of natives.
"Well, I'm glad now the old chap and I went through with the pending experience, as it gives another helping of food for reflection, and warms my heart once again as in my mind's eye I see him leading a little crusade along the lonely course of the Fried Fish River. Sometime I'll show you a bit of mediæval armor that figured in that predicament. When the full beauty of the act has filtered in I reckon you'll concede that all the Carnegie ​medals for bravery ought not to go to Richard Cœur de Lion and his convincing curtal-axe. For, although we were handicapped by a lack of palms and a Moslem host, we more than made up in scenic effects by doing a vaudeville turn on skates in a realm where the average Saracen would quit his religion for an opportunity to steal coal.
"Dear, dear! ain't I the rambler, though! To hark back to the main trail, it was at the tail end of our visit at the Swamp House that Tib tried to figure out how a Hudson Bay stage-setting could be reproduced in a United States exposition without melting. He had just proclaimed that artificial snow-storms and cold-storage atmosphere were easy, and he was wrestling with the tough problem of how to produce an ice-covered lake, when the talk took a flying switch to skating, and MacGully, the factor, suggested:
"‘If you want to combine pleasure and business, why not walk a mile over to Fried Fish River and skate up to Spoon Lake? The river is one smooth glare, and, besides the sport, you could visit the Spoon Lake House, long since abandoned as a living-post, but sometimes used for storage purposes. It belongs to the company and has the happy reputation of being haunted. Happy, because it keeps the half-breeds and Indians at a distance and we don't have to police it. The last ​factor there was an Englishman, who shot himself while insane. The natives say his ghost walks betimes. Dawley was his name, and it is supposed the solitude, and cold, gray vastness of the country unhinged him. We older fellows know he was crazy before taking the position; for when he came over from the old country he brought along lots of truck that no sane man would have bothered with, and used it in decorating the house. He left no kin, and as he was in debt to the company, many of his effects are still there. If you've not afraid of some supernatural manifestation, you'd better visit the place. It's only a ten-mile skate, and if you find anything you can use in your business, I'll send some men with a sledge to tote it back.'
"I could skate like a fiend, and was zestful for the trip, but feared for Tib.
"‘Don't worry about me, child,' he answered. 'I may not be so slim and ingrowing an elf as you, but I was born in Vermont and could easily shave myself on steel runners. Produce your skates, Mac, and we'll see if my riper years have robbed my feet. We'll start early to-morrow.'
"I suggested that we also lay out some fire-arms, as I had heard one of the trappers the day before remark that the Tan-Nic tribe was on the rampage. MacGully laughed and said I was already dreading Dawley's ghost, and assured us the Tan-Nics were ​now making for the Block River grounds to rendezvous for the winter.
"‘So, early next morning, laden only with a luncheon and our fair repute, we tramped north to the Fried Fish River and strapped on our skates. The river wound in and out, and you could see only a few hundred feet of it in a straight line, except where the sturdy wood gave way and allowed the eye to pick it up across country in more curves.
"And say, talk about skating! Tib was a greased rubber ball. He didn't seem to need any ice, and he gave the impression of flying. As we careened around bend after bend I felt sorry for having cast reflections on his prowess, especially as it incited him to smash all records and then try to lower his own. In fact, I had to apologize, just to get him to slow up and give me a breather. When we debouched into Spoon Lake I was nearly fagged and began looking for the post. But the old chap was disappointed at the brevity of the jaunt, and said he wished we could skate 'way across to the Great Slave.
"We found the lake quite small and surrounded by a monotonous level sweep of gray land, except on the left, where a solitary bluff, some thirty feet high, rose forlorn. It was on this lone elevation that we found the long log-house that Dawley grew tired of. The door was simply fastened with a ​deerskin thong, and really, as Tib blew on his benumbed fingers and tried to unfasten it, I began to hanker for the open, and appreciate why the brooding silence struck the average local scalawag as being sinister and unwholesome. Once inside, with a blaze chuckling in the big fireplace and coffee simmering on the hearth, the eerie feeling vamoosed, and as soon as Tib had carefully divided the bread, cheese, and meat, I was ready to eat a lion. And such appetites! I'm ashamed to confess that when Tib sorrowfully laid the odd chunk of bread on my birch-bark plate I gobbled it like an unthankful but thoroughly hungry hound, and pretended not to notice his partiality.
"Well, after feeding ourselves and the ruddy flames, we began to look about. At first we saw only bales of hides and furs and a few boxes of tinned goods. Then we noticed a shelf of books, once fingered by Dawley, but we didn't touch these. Next a few curious weapons, formerly housed in some moated keep in old England, whetted our interest a bit. Then we discovered the armor, three outfits in all; only, when we first saw them, we thought Dawley, accompanied by some of his mailed forebears, had stepped in to get warm. My heart jumped into my mouth, and Tib prepared to hurl his skates. You see, the junk was set up on cross-sticks and looked quite business-like. A fat set held ​a shy attitude, I remember, as if it was about to address us, but felt restrained by diffidence. I wanted to pack it up to take south, but Tib reminded me that the heavy clothing of the Middle Ages, paraded in a Hudson Bay concession in an exposition, would appear about as plausible as a snow-storm in hades. It was while discussing the matter, and fingering the heavy breastplates and gauntlets, that we nearly had nervous prostration, only the scare this time came from without.
"‘Men talking!' cried Tib, jumping to the door and making it fast without knowing why he did so. Then peeping through the small glass light he added: 'Indians! They can't be from around here, or they'd fear Dawley's spook.'
"Then I took a peep and beheld a score of swarthy and thoroughly untrustworthy-looking men standing on the edge of the lake, pointing their spears and several ancient fire-arms at the smoke now curling merrily from our chimney.
"‘Tan-Nics, Tib,' I whispered.
"‘They're coming up. Let's anticipate 'em,' he replied; and opening the door a bit he thrust forth his amiable countenance and asked what they wanted. For reply he got a bullet that knocked moss from the door-post.
"‘They behave like census-takers,' I observed, hysterically.
​"‘They're Tan-Nics, all right,' he decided, slamming the door. 'Hunt up some guns and powder.'
"But search as I would, while he kept watch, I could find no fire-arms nor ammunition. By this time our visitors had scattered and had shot out the few small windows. Then, waxing more obstreperous as we made no return, they crept nearer, and one industrious varlet from behind a tree began bombarding the door with big rocks.
"‘Never mind, my lad,' growled Tib, picking up a can of beef. 'Two can play at that pastime.' And as the anarchist became still more venturesome and exposed his person, Tib took a pot-shot through the window and nailed him on the brow. But the effect was not as we desired. The other beggars, on discovering the can of beef, forgot their wounded comrade and seemed more anxious than before to storm us and obtain the rest of the fodder.
"‘Maybe MacGully will get worried when we do not return, and send aid,' I encouraged.
"‘My boy,' said Tib, 'this portal was once massy and solid. It's now old and decayed. The hinges are already loosened by the onslaught, and long before Mac can arrive Lucknow will have fallen. We must make for the Swamp House.'
"‘I can't see it!' I cried; for although if given a clear way we could easily distance the foe, who had no skates, it seemed impossible to gain the lake and ​the river, as the merrymakers were guarding the only exit.
"As I was characterizing our hard luck, a chunk of lead hurtled through the window and clinked musically on the armor. 'See what damage it did,' directed Tib. I didn't care to satisfy his trivial curiosity, and said so, and reminded him that I was young and loved to be alive and was interested solely in getting away.
"‘Why, child, that's all I'm thinking of,' he said, gravely. 'To see you rolled snugly in Mac's blankets is my only desire.'
"Of course I felt mean, and, stilling my bleat, I ambled over and examined the iron overcoat critically.
"‘Bullet struck square on breastplate and glanced off,' I announced.
"‘Good!' he cried, now all animation. 'Strap on your skates and we'll teach these sensation-mongers how to run a gentle joust-at-arms. I think the short, fat, Falstaff design will cling gracefully to my plump person.'
"And hang me, if he didn't insist that we put on the armor!
"‘Ho, armorer!' he cried. 'My casque and greaves! D'ye notice, Billy, my escutcheon? It's a lame leopard eating an angle-worm. And that means, "We Eat 'Em Alive." Live up to your old ​family legends, child. Your frontlet bears as a device a two-legged horse with a wart on his nose, prancing with blind staggers in an azure field. The Latin was largely knocked off by the bullet, but here's bello, and it means you must be doughty in war. Maybe Cæsar wore it.'
"You simply couldn't check his spirits. He didn't seem to care for the mob outside, but squandered precious time in hunting for a plume to stick in his helmet. I tried to quiet him and make him finish fastening his greaves, but he took his time.
"‘We must teach 'em, my child,' he responded, 'that chivalry is not dead, and as this passage-at-arms is to be a l' outrance to the finish, I would fain caracole the lists right bonnily. Remember, if we win, it is our prerogative to name the Queen of Beauty. Say, how do I look?'
"And, really, he certainly was a gay scene, especially after he closed his vizor and tried to imitate a clarion through the rusty bars. His uniform fitted like a glove, while mine was low in the neck and roomy. It was very hard to move about and retain our balance, as we had strapped on our skates the first thing, but the effect was stunning. Then Tib balked again and wouldn't open the door until he had found a weapon in keeping with the rest of the furniture.
"‘I've got to have something to brandish in my ​mailed fist,' he protested. 'I can't appear rampant with an empty gauntlet.'
"Not to delay the game, I felt around and found and gave him a ponderous battle-axe, and he was satisfied. For myself I selected a long, two-handled sword, hoping to use is as a push-pole. Tib, however, led me in one particular: he was armed with spurs. Well, sir, I appreciate there were some gay birds when knighthood grew outside of hot-houses, before the revolving pistol and hip-pocket were invented, but for downright oddity you could safely wager the frozen northland never saw two such imprisoned sprites before. We were about as graceful as a steel-rolling mill, but when it came to solidity, we had everything from King Arthur's time down to the Spanish-American War bereft of all garlands.
"‘Are you ready, Sir William?' asked Tib, at last unfastening the door, just as another volley of bullets and spears assured us the infidels were willing to devote all of their time and attention to our reception. I clanked my helmet against the wall in assent and staggered after him into the afternoon twilight, the air tasting ancient and musty through the vizor-bars.
"It simply swept the foe off their feet, sir. In all their Arctic-Circle doings they had never stubbed up against the steel trust. With a cry of wonder, tainted with terror, those in the underbrush about ​the cabin began scuttling away from the highlands to join those on the edge of the lake, where they concentrated in one startled, frightened mass. Then as the sun touched up our burnished joints they began to notice the details and grunt in amazed envy as Tib's vanity led him to flash his axe about. They could appreciate such a noble weapon even if they couldn't dope out the utility of tempered steel earlaps. I reckon Tib's show of grace hastened their first attack; for, although mystified, they wanted our plumber's outfit badly. We were now looking down on them, and one, their chief, even as he howled in apprehension, shied a bone-tipped spear up the bluff and laughed nervously as it shattered on Tib's flank. As we did nothing to cripple this aggressor their wonder gave way altogether to avarice, and the leader yelped an order and the others barked back, and with offensive demeanor the whole band commenced sauntering up to reconnoitre our position.
"‘If you weren't so cursed proud,' I mumbled, through my mask.
"‘Tut, tut!' cried Tib. 'They can never crack this combination, not even if they are safe-blowers.' And then, like a gay troubadour fresh from Palestine, he chanted a brave lay about ye ladye faire, and I staggered to his side and asked if we should meet them there on the cliff.
​"Before he could retort, I answered my own query by tripping over my sword and falling against him. The tinkling of our two forms in collision reverberated loudly from the frozen bosom of the Spoon waters and reminded me of the gong on an ambulance. My unintentional ramming of Tib caused the foe to pause, suspicious of some trick, and then retreat again to the lake. And while they deliberated, Tib and I surrendered our equilibrium, and as he cried, 'Charge, Chester, charge!' we gracefully toppled over the edge of the bluff and shot down to the ice, I feet first, Tib headlong. We were second-hand meteors.
"Then was the beauty of our garb demonstrated. Being steel, we could skate just as well on our back or head as on our feet. We struck the petrified sons from Farthest North in a masterly manner. Nothing but a stone wall could stop us; I felt as if I were inside a runaway freight-train. I heard one poor devil screech shrilly as I ran over him. I tried to look out to identify him, as I had aimed myself at the chief, but the pace baffled me. In shooting the bluff I had made a right-end play, for about ten yards' gain, while Tib had bucked the centre for as much more. My drive, I shall always contend, was the acme of energetic, manly grace, while Tib, eschewing the beautiful, was crude force personified. He pivoted on his hip-pads just before strik​ing his ninepins, and in pin-wheeling through them he got more action for his money. There was a heavy shower of brownies long after I slowed up. They simply littered the landscape!
"Once we'd ceased to slide we were surrounded, and the blows rained on my shell sounded very loud to me inside. I couldn't get up, nor could Tib, and so he began digging his spurs into the ice and propelling himself in my direction. He steered by my voice, and as he hove in line with my vizor I observed he was heavily laden with dusky passengers. Once our uniforms clinked together, he cleared a space with his axe and we managed to gain our feet. It was surprising, sir, to see how neatly I could skim around, once I began to skate. Tib was even better, and threw in a few extra flourishes I couldn't command. Meanwhile the Injuns stood back regaining their wind and expecting us to do something fantastic. I could see they were determined to absorb our weapons, which we still retained.
"‘All I'm afraid of is that the ice will break,' cried Tib. 'We must weigh as much as a Cunarder.'
"The main force of the Tan-Nics ran ahead and formed a line of battle in front of us, while the outpost began piling logs across the neck of the Fried Fish River. We had started towards this and were ​now forced to turn. We couldn't stop, as that meant to go down and freeze to the ice or get a spear inside our castles. The Injuns were now in pursuit, but whenever we turned a corner they lost ground, being unable to make the curve. We toyed with them in such simple ways for some time, until we made a mistake and collided. Only Tib's quickness in hooking my helmet with his axe kept us upright. Then they changed their tactics, and while half pursued, the others ran around to meet us. 'Full head of steam!' cried Tib. 'We must hit 'em fair.' And with safety-valves closed tight we bumped those in front and slid on our necks, passing through the bunch like a rotary plough through a new snow-drift.
"On the next turn around we noticed the vidette at the outlet had strung a rawhide line from shore to shore. Tib began to yearn and hanker to possess it, and, although it seemed a waste of energy, I emulated Barkis. It required an exchange of several sharp-edged courtesies before we could procure the cord, but that once done I appreciated and applauded Tib's motive. One end he made fast to the axe and allowed that weapon to trail on the ice some fifty feet in our rear, with the other end held tight in our willing gloves. Then we rapidly skirted the opposite shore until we got a noble start and had our anchor bouncing and nicking the pavement; ​then we curved in towards the massed force and when within thirty feet of their left wing we pivoted, standing fast, hanging to each other's necks like twin oaks. I never saw oaks do that; but our stratagem worked to perfection. For when the heavy axe could no longer continue in a straight course along the edge of the lake, it swiftly began to answer the centripetal requirements and describe a blazing circle. The enemy got wise and tried to abscond from the danger, but as the gliding axe was now overlapping their firing-line the moment was too late for the most of them. And when the whizzing cord and steel struck their scampering legs, the air grew dusky with their going up and coming down.
"‘Quite like our childhood's game of snapping the whip,' observed Tib, cheerily, forgetting his iron complexion and trying to mop the sweat from his brow.
"‘My hands are cold—very,' I gasped, for steel mittens aren't the warmest things sold in glove stores.
"‘Beat them together—' began Tib, when zip! and a baby bowlder shot over the ice and knocked his feet from under him. You could have heard the earth bulge on the opposite side of the globe from where he sat down and made the ice look like fractured stars.
​"‘Two can play at curling,' he growled, as I helped him to his feet. We skated to the near shore and procured an armful of rocks. Then, striking a blithesome clip, we began enfilading the beggars with double shots. Tib would shoot at one end of the group, I taking the other, with an occasional stinger straight for the centre. What with the axe and rock play we soon cleared the lake, and then for the first time had a clear course to the barriers at the outlet. Gaining this, Tib used his axe until he had effected a narrow lane, the guard in the mean time trying to dent our chests with odd pieces of hardy timber.
"Then we drew back, right in the face of the approaching rear-guard, to gain momentum, and describing a ponderous circle, just without the reach of a fringe of clutching hands and rampant spears, turned under a ninety-pound pressure and again made a bee-line to the riddled chevaux-de-frise in the neck of the lake to smash our way through to the clear ice of the river. For the lake was a bottle, and that narrow outlet, littered with stumps and gnarled branches, could never have been penetrated without a flying start. And, dear, dear! what a vision of odds and ends, logs and ill-advised aborigines, I enjoyed in passing, as the débris rained down outside and heartily thumped my roof! Through my narrow windows I was rejoiced to see Tib also had ​weathered the storm, and thus shoulder to shoulder we left the lake, struck the first bend in the river, and were off for home.
"But the Tan-Nics were as persistent as book-agents, and while some continued in our wake, others, by cutting across lots, headed us off at the next corner. Our fighting blood was now up, however, and without giving an inch we hugged the pole and crashed our way through this new menace and past the first quarter. Tib yelled in my clouded ear that the original owners of our borrowed clothes had permeated the iron with their spirits and were inciting us to daring deeds. But navigating the slim river was vastly different from loafing about on the roomy lake, and more difficult; and I answered that the old knights had neglected to supply strength commensurate with their legacy of ambition, and then confessed I was out of energy and was all in. Just as I had shown the white feather, my legs became two strings and I went down, a clattering clutter of old junk.
"‘Go on and get help,' I groaned. 'I'm but an ancient relic'
"But the old chap knew a trick worth several of that. 'Stick up your heels,' he cried, and I had just sufficient vigor to obey. Then taking a mailed hoof in each of his gauntlets he continued skating, pushing and steering me before him head first, as if ​I were a sled. There was a ridge of iron up and down my back that made a nice keel.
"We now made terrific headway, as Tib in leaning against my feet could steady himself and put all his strength into his kicks. I'll admit the sensation was odd and slightly disagreeable at first, but after a while I began to enjoy it and pity Tib for having to stay out there in the cold and work.
"‘Hear 'em screech,' he telephoned down my insulated form. 'How near? I can't turn my head.'
"Aroused from my reverie I slightly elevated my weighty casque, and through the weaving in and out of his sturdy legs caught occasional glimpses of a dark, unwholesome throng behind us. They certainly knew how to run on ice, but as we made a turn I got a wider view and joyfully cried that only half of the tribe was in pursuit.
"‘Cheer up!' gasped Tib. 'We haven't lost any of 'em. Ah, I thought so!' And he gave a mighty lunge against my heels that caused my overcoat to grow warm with the friction.
"‘Waiting for us at the bend!' he cried, holding me dead ahead and picking up extra speed with every stroke. 'Steady!' he yelled.
"And snap! snap! bang! we'd gathered in two videttes and like a stamping-mill had struck the close-pressed pack fair in the centre. We bored a ​yawning hole through them, but we lost in speed a bit, and to my horror I saw those from behind draw nearer, just as Tib, clear of the muss, began to wabble and coast.
"‘The foe! the foe: they come! they—' I howled, as one swart devil staggered almost within reach of my motive power.
"Tib straightened to renew his lost youth, but I had listed heavily to port, and before he could right me on an even keel the foremost rogue jumped fairly upon his shoulders. If Tib hadn't been supported in a measure by my heels he would have gone down and out. As it was he went trembly for a second, then regained his underpinning, while the impetus of the jolt sent us gliding swiftly ahead.
"But the slight hesitation allowed the other sprites to close in on both sides, and while they could not strike Tib, for fear of hitting their chief on his shoulders, they had no false modesty when it came to me. Whang! smash! and every kind of a primeval weapon battered my aching sides. 'Look out!' gurgled Tib, and bending suddenly he bucked his rider ten feet in the van, and by the next second's soft crunch and slight jar I knew we'd rammed him out of commission before he could roll off the tracks. And just as the last jolt on my head-piece made me grow dizzy and steer badly, I was conscious of some one popping corn down the river, and as Tib gave a ​muffled hurrah and gasped, 'MacGully's men to the rescue,' I slipped my moorings on reason. When I woke up I was in blankets at the Swamp House, and Tib, still wearing all his armor except the helmet, was pouring whiskey down my throat. The corn-popping was MacGully's men taking pot-shots at the blood-thirsty heathens.