 CHAPTER XIX Ralph woke at dawn, shivering with cold in spite of his covers. Lawrence and Jack were still sleeping. Getting out of bed to light the fire never was a pleasant task, but that morning Ralph hated it worse than ever. The first move he made hurt, and it was all he could do to get out of his blankets and onto his feet. He was lame all over from the hard work of yesterday. Every muscle was stiff and sore, and he felt anything but cheerful as he looked around the little room, cluttered and disorderly, cold and cheerless in the faint morning light. The fire-making disturbed Larry. He moved sleepily, groaned, opened his eyes, stared stupidly about him a moment, started to sit up, and dropped back with an exclamation. I feel as if I had been pounded all over, he said. He made another effort. I was mistaken, he muttered. I haven't been pounded. I've been stretched on the rack the way they used to torture people. So have I, Ralph retorted grimly, but I had to get up just the same. Their voices aroused Margaret and Jack, but Ralph ordered them both to lie still until the room was warmer. He and the Larry had to go for more wood, and by the time they returned the others were up. They both complained of lameness and muscle soreness, and Jack's frosted foot was so sore he could not get his shoe on. A warm breakfast helped them all a little, but they were a rather disconsolate quartet. Going to the other harbour for a load that day was out of the question, but the labour of digging some drift logs out of the snow and a thorough rubbing that Ralph and Lawrence gave each other helped to take the soreness out of their backs and limbs. It was bright the next morning, and very cold, when the two boys started on their long trip back to Smith Harbour. They had made a fortunate find at the fishing station, a large sled with iron-shot runners, and in spite of sore muscles they went at good speed, snowshoes and empty sleds slipping easily over their trail of two days before. The one real drawback was the cold wind. Ralph suggested that they try going across the point instead of around it, cutting off a considerable distance and avoiding the worst ice ridge. But when they reached the spot where a short trail led from their rocky shore to the fishing camp, they clambered over the rocks, getting the sleds up with difficulty. The lads had decided to trace the mysterious man. Not knowing what sort of a creature he might turn out to be, they took with them a small rifle they had found in Newt Thorson's cabin. During the sleds locked in the fisherman's house, they went back to the hole in the rocks and followed the footprints. From the spruce, where the man had climbed out of the rift, the tracks led through the woods to the shore opposite the little island and across to the ruins of the cabin. There the boys paused to examine the remains. The kitchen had suffered less than any other part of the house, and the stove was unharmed. There were also a few cooking utensils and other things left unhurt. Some cans had burst with heat or freezing, and the contents had been cleaned out by man or animal. None of the things saved from the fire had been left on the little island. Ralph and Larry had been careful to transport to the fishing camp everything they could not take on their first trip to the lighthouse. It was singular, however, that they found no half-burned, scorched or water-soaked provisions, evidently anything of the kind that might have survived the flames had been carried away. Many trails led back and forth from the burned house. In addition to human footprints, there were the tiny claw-tracks of birds, the neat-paired prints of squirrels and the larger marks of hairs. One trail had been made by a larger beast, for the marks were like big cat-tracks. The human tracks led to the shore and formed three distinct trails across the ice in different directions. The boys were at a loss which to follow, but they finally selected one that led them across to an island, then to the shore and into the woods to a clump of small balsams. The man had apparently forced his way into the center of the clump, for the branches were broken and bent. From the balsams the trail was more perplexing to follow. The forest was thick, under the trees there was much less snow and many patches of ground were bare. With some difficulty the boys trailed the man to the little shanty they had found on their first day on the island. Around the shack was a confusion of tracks. The door stood open and the room was in greater disorder than before. The man had been there beyond doubt, but he was not there then, nor was there any sign of the food he had taken from the ruins of the cabin, if indeed he had taken it. Well, said Larry, looking at his watch, we can't follow him much farther today, it's one o'clock. Ralph was examining a track leading from behind the shack. Let's go a little way along here, he said, I hate to give up. The track led into the woods a little way, circled about and came back to the shanty. They could not discover another trail leading away from the place. He's tricked us somewhere, said Ralph, left the track, climbed a tree, and come down on the other side, perhaps. We haven't time to hunt for him any more today, I don't believe we can make the lighthouse before dark now. Compelled to give up the search, the boys hastened back to the fishing camp, ate their lunch and loaded the toboggan and sled, going over to the burned house for the stove. They could not take the loaded sleds down the rocks, so had to go over the worst of the ice ridges, but they had brought axes and could chop a path. The journey with the two sleds was a hard one. By the time they reached the lighthouse, they had traveled more than twice as far as on the previous trip and were almost exhausted. They were too tired, even, to appreciate the wonderful Aurora Borealis, with which the northern and western sky was flaming. But their welcome was a cheerful one, with a warm room and a good meal. In spite of their weariness, the lads set up the stove in the room where they had first found the bedstead and made a fire to see if the chimney was all right. The stove pipe they had brought was not quite long enough, as the room was somewhat higher than the cabin kitchen, but they fortunately found an extra-length, rusty but without holes in a closet under the tower's stairs. While poking around among odds and ends in that closet, Ralph made another find, a great round lantern with a reflector. It was made to burn kerosene and probably had been used as the headlight of a boat, a sailing vessel, perhaps. They examined the old lantern with curiosity but never thought of its having any practical value. "'I wonder if these cans of milk are frozen,' Margaret remarked, as she was putting away the supplies. I don't suppose it could hurt milk to freeze, but it might burst the cans,' suggested Larry. "'I'll put them in cold water for a while. That will draw out the frost gradually if they are frozen, and it won't hurt them if they're not.' The next day was Sunday, and the boys were all glad of an excuse to rest. Monday had to be devoted to getting a supply of wood. Wood-cutting was always hard work. Where they made their first cuttings, they could not get the sled in among the trees, and after felling a tree had to cut it up into lengths and carry or drag them out. In the afternoon Meg insisted on going with the boys to pick up branches. Jack's foot was too sore to allow him to accompany them, but the others kept at the job, and by night they were almost as tired as if they had been to the other harbour. They had the satisfaction of seeing a good pile of wood and branches behind their dwelling, though. In spite of that hard day's work they felt they must make a trip to Smith Harbour the next day. At any time a severe storm might cut them off from the rest of their supplies. A new misfortune awaited them at the fishing station. Holes had been gnawed in some sacks of dried beans and peas and a quantity of them carried away. This was obviously the work of squirrels or rats. A small hole in one corner of the floor showed how the rodents had entered the storeroom. It's lucky we came today, said Larry, or they might have carried away all of those beans, as it was the loss was serious enough. A snowfall the night before had blotted out the old tracks of the sneaking man, and there were no new ones. For the time being there was no way of trailing him. In all their lives the two boys had never worked so hard as during those days. Their backs, legs, and feet were lame. Their hands and wrists chapped, cracked and frostbitten, their faces rough and sore from the biting winds. But it was of no use to grumble. They must keep fed and warm, and they had no one to depend on but themselves. They tried to stick to their work without complaining, though they could not help being a bit discouraged now and then. Little Jack hardly realized the worst of things. He helped Meg, and after his foot was well, went with the others for wood. But Margaret realized. She would not let Larry and Ralph help with the housework, and even with the washing, because she said they were getting the worst of the work anyway. However, they had some compensations. The old stone house, warmly built and cemented over on the outside, was in spite of the winds that whistled around it considerably warmer than the log cabin. There were six rooms on the lower floor, but they used only three. The room where they had set up the stove was the living room. In one corner they placed Margaret's bed in a box for a dresser, the room with the fireplace the boys used for a bedroom. Jack had the cot and the older boys built rough bunks, which they filled with balsam and cedar branches. They were careful this time to use only small fans that could be stripped off easily and to lay them smoothly, one layer thatched on top of another, with the butt ends thrust underneath. After considerable experimenting they produced springy comfortable beds. In that room they kept a small fire during the day, putting on extra fuel morning and evening. A fire in their bedroom seemed like a luxury. The front door was locked and as they had no key, they went in and out through the kitchen. The rooms in the upper story were of no use to them. End of CHAPTER XIX LOST IN A BLIZZARD The next time Lawrence and Ralph started on the long trip to Smith Harbor, the morning was anything but a pleasant one. It was cloudy with a raw penetrating east wind. It was snow before we get back or I miss my gas, said Ralph as he led off over the well-packed trail. I hope you've missed it, then, Larry replied, and the snow will hold off until tomorrow. Before they were halfway down the harbor, however, snow began to fall and as they went on it came down harder and harder. An unpleasant surprise awaited them at the Fisherman's cabin. The padlock on the back door had been smashed. A big stone, partly buried in the snow, showed how the mischief had been done. In the storeroom everything was in confusion. Sacks and boxes had been opened and the contents scattered about on the floor. "'Well,' cried Ralph, in blazing wrath, "'that fellow is a mean beast. He's carried off whatever he could and tried to spoil everything else. What grudge has he against us anyway?' The two lads set to work to salvage as much as possible and then they made a curious discovery. Of the supplies that had been left in the storeroom, hams, bacon, dried fruit, and most of the sugar had been carried off, but flour, meal, and other things had been emptied out and strewn all over the floor. Such behavior on the part of the thief puzzled the boys. "'It looks,' said Larry, as if he had carried off everything he could possibly eat without cooking it, and nothing that isn't eatable until it is cooked. He has acted more like a beast than a man. If it wasn't for that smashed lock in those footprints, I should think a bear, not a man, had been rummaging here. "'Do you suppose he's a wild man, some half-human sort of a creature?' asked Ralph. "'He behaves that way. Perhaps though he has a supply of flour and only wants meat and fruit and sugar. He must be mean all through, then, to try to destroy what he doesn't need and keep us from using it. "'He's probably angry because we locked him out,' Larry suggested. "'Then why didn't he come to us like an honest man and make us share with him? He seems to be afraid of us and yet have a grudge against us.' The boys saved all of the remaining food they could, but not much of the flour that had been emptying out on the dirty floor was fit for use. Everything they particularly wanted went on the sleds that time, and they did not have to burden themselves with packs. When they left the fishing-camp, the falling snow was so thick that they could scarcely see across to the summer resort island. They went along without much difficulty until they reached the point. There the wind struck them, driving the snow now in their faces, now against their backs. They had chopped a fairly good track across the patches of rough snow, but that day in the blinding, wind-driven snow they failed to find their trail. Probably it had drifted full. Across the first ridge they took the sleds one at a time. The snow, which had been dry and fine as the weather grew steadily colder, drifted here and there with the veering wind and concealed hummocks and knobs. Four times the toboggan was overturned before the boys got it over. They had been in too much of a hurry loading it, and the first time it upset some of the things fell off. Then the lads had to reload and lash them on more firmly. Doing this was especially troublesome in the storm, and some little things were lost and never found again. After the boys had hauled the toboggan over they scrambled back for the sled. Confused by the driving snow they could not find it at first. Finally however Ralph fell over it. It was almost hidden, and he had taken it for a mere drift. They dug it out and started to cross with it, but the storm was so bewildering that they crossed the ridge at an angle and came down in another place. Then they were obliged to hunt for the toboggan, which they found partly buried in the snow. Profiting by that experience they took the two sleds together over the other rough places. Lawrence going first with the smaller one, and Ralph following with the larger. It was hard work, and again they had several upsets. The storm was growing worse all the time. The snow whirled about them in clouds, the wind veering and driving it from every direction. Then dry and icy it stung their faces and blinded them, while the wind took away their breaths. If the snow had been wet it would not have been so bad, but this dry stuff drifted like sand, worse than sand indeed. Their snowshoes and sleds sank down into the drifts instead of riding on top of them. Thicker and thicker came the snow, harder and harder blew the wind, until sometimes they could scarcely stand against it. The outlying islands, the trees of the shoreline, were blotted out entirely. The boys could no longer be sure of their direction. Their landmarks all lost, the snow swirling about them, they had nothing for a guide, not even the wind. The shifting whirling gale seemed to come from every direction. Hands down, faces stinging, hands stiff with cold, the bitter wind penetrating their clothes, they plotted on, tugging at the sleds. Where they were going they could not tell, but they had to keep on, had to get somewhere. Both of them knew that if they stopped there in the snow they would probably freeze. They were lost in a white whirling world, but they realized that they must go on. On and on they struggled, fighting their way, the sleds growing ever heavier to pull through the drifting snow. At last there came a time when the lads could drag them no longer. Ralph had the toboggan. Much as he hated to give up he knew he could not go on that way. Larry he gasped, his voice sounded hoarse and unnatural. He lacked the power to shout. The two had kept close together for fear of losing one another, and Larry heard him and grunted in reply. We've got to leave the sleds if we're going to save ourselves, Ralph panted. But we'll never find them, Larry objected weakly. It can't be helped. We'll mark the place. In the last few minutes Ralph had formed a plan. On top of the toboggan was a long pole he had picked up just before starting, thinking it might prove useful for something. He would set that up in the snow to mark the place where the sleds were left. It took the boys stiffened fingers some time to unfasten the pole and plant it firmly between the sleds. That done they started on, where they did not know, out towards the open lake perhaps, around in a circle very likely. Of only one thing they were sure they must keep going at all hazards. But that was not easy to do. Ralph felt himself growing numb and stupid. A deadly weariness crept over him. There was just one thing he wanted to do. Lie down in the snow and go to sleep. He could not go on. He must rest. It would be so good to lie down there and sleep. But pounding away somewhere in the corner of his numbed brain were the words, You've got to go on. You must not stop. Larry was even worse. I must stop and rest, he gasped. Keep going, Ralph replied. Go on or you'll freeze. I have to rest. Just a minute, then I'll go on. Keep going, the other answered, as he struggled to lift the foot he had just set down in a drift. There was no reply. Something made Ralph look back. He could just distinguish Lawrence squatted it down in the snow. I must rest, the latter repeated dully. That aroused Ralph. His brain woke suddenly to a realization of Larry's peril. He turned on his friend savagely. Get up, he cried. Larry groaned. I can't, he began. Then just a— Ralph did not wait for him to finish. You will, he shouted. With his fist he struck Larry in the back. Then he kicked him with his snowshoe and slapped him in the face. That made Larry angry. Ralph intended that it should. Larry struggled to his feet and turned on his companion. His fists doubled. But the latter was not going to waste time in strength fighting. Go on, he ordered. Go ahead. Keep going or you'll freeze. You're going on if I have to kick you every step. Larry stared at him for an instant, then turned and stumbled forward. Neither of them knew how long they kept on. It began to grow dark. Several times Larry stopped and acted as if he were going to lie down in the snow, and every time Ralph cuffed, struck, and kicked him till he went on again. Why Lawrence did not turn on him and thrash him, Ralph did not know. Probably the older boy was too far gone. Perhaps he realized dimly that Ralph was acting for his good. As for Ralph himself, the necessity of keeping Lawrence going had aroused him somewhat. He wanted badly enough to stop and rest. Perhaps if he had been alone he might have yielded. This came, but that did not make much difference. They could see nothing but snow anyway. A horrible feeling came over Ralph that they were going straight out into the lake. He wondered vaguely what would become of Meg and Jack. Well, they had enough to eat to last the two of them till spring. As for fuel... Suddenly Larry fell backwards on him and both went down. The end had come, Ralph thought. Larry was done for. He rolled out from under his friend and scrambled to his feet, his snowshoes hindering him. Then he seized Larry by the shoulder and gave him a jerk. Get up, he said. To Ralph's surprise, for he thought it was all over with Larry, the latter made the effort, and with Ralph's help was soon on his feet again. I struck something, he said. It knocked me over. What was it? Struck something? Hope surged up in Ralph once more. He groped forward in the snow and darkness. His hands encountered something. He had thought it might be a rock or a tree. But no, it was neither. After several moments of groping about he understood what they had run into. His heart leaped with joy. The thing was a dock. He had lost Lawrence, however. He tried to shout, but his voice was hoarse and feeble. There was no answer. Groping about in the swirling storm he almost fell over Larry, who had settled back in the snow. Ralph grasped him and jerked him up. It's a dock, he cried. Larry simply stared at him. Ralph struck him sharply on the cheek with his mitten hand. Wake up, he cried huskily. It's a dock. That means a house, shelter. That time Larry understood. Without a word he followed Ralph, grasping him by the coat, not to lose him. The latter felt for the dock again and found it. His hand on it he went ahead. After a little he ran into a bush. They had reached shore. But how were they going to find the house? They stumbled along, running into trees, tripping over bushes. Fear seized Ralph. Perhaps there was no house. He knew of at least two places where there were old docks but no cabins. Just then his groping hand struck something that did not feel like a tree. He ran his hand over it. It was the wall of a building. We've found it, Larry, he said, now for the door. They failed to find that door, but they did discover a window, an unshuttered one. Ralph not only felt the glass, but there a little sheltered from the swirling storm. He could see it. Without hesitation he smashed his fist through that glass. Then he systematically broke it out clear to the frame on every side. His thick mitten kept him from being cut. Crawl through, Larry, he said. Ralph's was so nearly exhausted Ralph had to boost him. He forgot about his friend's snowshoes until the latter was part way in. Then Ralph had to pull him out again and help him to get them off. Up he boosted him a second time, handed in the two pairs of snowshoes, and crawled through himself. It was pitch dark in the house. Ralph pulled off his mittens and rummaged in his pockets for a match. The light showed him a small room with no furniture but a rickety table, an old chair and a rusty stove. Still holding his lighted match he stumbled through a doorway, his feet feeling like chunks of wood, into a shed. There he was glad to discover a pile of empty boxes and an axe with a broken handle. He went back into the main room, and luckily, for he only had a few matches, found on a shelf a half-burned candle in a battered tin candlestick. In the meanwhile Lawrence had sunk down into the one chair. Leaving him there Ralph took the candle and went into the shed again. With the broken axe he split up one of the boxes, carried the pieces back to the stove, and was about to kindle a fire when a gust of wind and snow blowing into the room reminded him of the open window. He broke up another box into larger pieces and managed to stop the hole. Then he returned to his fire-making. When he had the fire burning he turned to Larry. The latter's head had fallen forward and he seemed to be asleep. Ralph had to shake him to arouse him enough to get him to the fire. By the time he had brushed the snow from Larry and from himself the older boy had begun to thaw out and to feel better. They rubbed themselves and, taking off their moccasins and stockings, put their feet close to the stove. Fortunately, they were not frozen, only numbed and chilled. After he had warmed up a little Ralph went in search of something to eat. Not a scrap of anything could he find except a little flour in the bottom of a big dirty looking can. They could not eat raw flour. On the shelf where he had found the candle was an old coffee pot and beneath it a small frying pan hanging on a nail. In the coffee pot Ralph melted some snow then he attempted to mix flour with the water. The result was paste. He remembered that he should have let the water cool. The next time he tried, after cooling his snow water, he succeeded in getting some sticky dough. On a piece of board he made the dough into a thin cake. He thought he could bake it in the frying pan, but it stuck and burned. A drop of wax running down the side of the candle gave him an idea. I wonder if I can grease my pan with that, he thought. It looks like tallow, not paraffin. He greased the pan with the end of the candle, put in another dough cake and baked it on top of the stove. Ralph had fallen asleep again and Ralph did not wake him till the scanty meal was ready. A dough cake without yeast or baking powder or even salt is not very palatable. But it is better than no food when you are half-starved. After they had eaten the lads looked for something to sleep on. There were no beds or cots in the house and not even a blanket or bit of bedding. Nothing but an old piece of canvas which they spread out on the dirty floor near the stove. The two boys lay down on the canvas close together, pulled the rest of it over them and went to sleep. There in the house they were sure that their heavy clothes would keep them from freezing even if the fire went out. They did not dare to leave much fire for fear of accidents and they were both too tired to sit up and watch it. CHAPTER XXI This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. XXI. WOLF TRACKS Lawrence woke chilled through. The room was lighted with a dull gray light. When he moved he waked Ralph. Without a word they got stiffly to their feet, went to the unbroken window and looked out. The snow was still swirling in dense clouds and the wind whistled around the house. We can't leave here yet, said Ralph. We might as well get something to eat. Larry kindled the fire while Ralph stirred up another dough cake. He was concerned to see that the flour would not hold out for more than two more scanty meals. The house they could see by daylight was little more than a shack with one room and a shed. It was dirty and deserted looking. Had it not been for the flour in the tin can the boys would have concluded that the place had not been lived in for years. Probably it's only used occasionally for a little while by someone fishing or trapping, said Larry. It's funny there isn't even a cot or a bunk. The day dragged on slowly. The lads had to use their supply of fuel carefully to make it last through and they decided not to eat anything more till night, though one cake had been far from satisfying. It was late afternoon before the storm had lessened enough so that they could see anything from the window. I don't believe it's snowing so much now, Ralph said, looking out, but it's still blowing like anything. Do you think we dare start out? No, I don't especially as we've no idea where we are. We can't get away from here before morning. By that time the wind may go down. You're right, Lawrence replied soberly. We've been saved once from freezing to death. We won't be so foolish as to risk it again. Meg and Jack must be nearly crazy, but we can't help that. They've plenty to eat anyway and the wood is piled so close to the door that they can get it easily enough. There's no danger of their starving or freezing. The boxes were almost gone. To look for a possible woodpile, Ralph tried to go out of the one door which opened from the shed, but the snow was so packed against it that he could not get the door open. So he crawled through the broken window. He found no sign of a woodpile and was glad after floundering around for a while to crawl back. The boys went to bed at dark, for they wanted to save the rest of the candle to grease the frying pan. When they woke, chilled and miserable with cold and hunger, they looked out on a white world. The snow had ceased to fall and the wind had gone down. There were trees close around the house, but from the window where the lads had entered, they could catch a glimpse of an open plain, the harbour, of course. Larry used the last match to light a fire and the remains of the wood to cook the little cake. As soon as they had eaten, the two boys started out. They climbed out of the window and had some difficulty getting into their snowshoes in the deep snow. Then they made their way through the trees towards the open. It's lucky this house is so close to the shore, or we might not have found it even after we ran into the dock, Ralph said as he paused to take a look at the little frame cabin that had sheltered them. I can't locate this place, though. I never remember noticing it on any of our trips, and I don't see why. Just what I was thinking, Larry returned. Phew! Look there! Either the sun's rising in the west or we're completely turned around. The sky was red with the sunrise, but in entirely the wrong direction. When they reached the open, the lads began to understand their situation. Before them stretched the harbour, but the line of woods on the other side seemed to be continuous. They stared at each other in amazement. That was the shore of the main island over there. While they were evidently on one of the chain of small islands which sheltered the harbour on the southeast, no wonder they had never noticed the shanty. In their trips back and forth they had always kept well in towards the main shore. We're turned around for sure, said Larry. Do you see what that means? Ralph replied. It means that when you ran into that dock we were headed for the open lake. If we had missed this island, had happened to go between two islands, he stopped. The possibility was too horrible. Their surprise at their situation and their eagerness to get home drove out of their minds the remembrance of the sleds. They never once thought to look for them. It was hard going through the dry drifted snow. The wind had gone down entirely. The sky was clear and the sun made the whole world sparkle. They went as fast as they could, but it was not until the tower of the lighthouse against its background of forest came into view that they were able to rid themselves of the feeling that they were going in the wrong direction. As they approached they saw a figure, two figures, standing on the platform. They're watching for us, Ralph cried. They're waving to us. He pulled off his cap in spite of the cold and waved back. A moment later the platform was empty. Margaret and Jack ran out to meet them. Tears were running down Meg's cheeks and to tell the truth the boys were not far from crying themselves. A hot breakfast surely tasted good. Dough cakes scorched on the outside, more or less raw on the inside and without salt are poor food, though they are a good deal better than nothing. It was not until after breakfast that the four told all their experiences. Margaret said that when the storm became bad she had been terribly worried. When darkness fell and the boys had not come she tried to make herself believe that they had thought it unwise to start and had stayed at the Thorsons. But it was hard to convince herself of that. She did not go to bed that first night and she thought daylight would never come. The next morning she and Jack could not get the door open. The snow had drifted against it so and the fuel in the house was almost gone. So they both climbed out of a window, made their way around to the woodpile and succeeded in digging out some sticks. Meg said she did not fully realize how bad the storm was until she was out in it. They were obliged to keep close to the house so as not to lose their bearings going from the window to the woodpile and back again. That was the longest and hardest day she had ever put through and the night was even worse though by that time she was so tired out that she slept a little. She made up her mind to hope till the last minute but hoping was difficult work. When morning came and she saw that the storm was over she realized that in a few hours she would know whether the others were alive or dead. Jack climbed out of the window again and shoveled a space in front of the door so he could open it and carry in more wood. Then the two went up in the tower and looking down the harbour saw the boys coming. The snow had drifted tremendously. It was clear over the windows on one side of the house. There was wood enough to last some time and for a week the lads did not go far from the lighthouse. The necessary work gave them all the physical exercise they wanted for the time being. The buried sleds were needed for hauling wood but the boys had little hope of finding them. However they set out one bright cold day to hunt for some signs of them. As they approached the island where they had been snowbound they saw to their joy waving above a drift the tattered remnant of a bit of a flower sack Ralph had tied to the pole. It took a good deal of digging to get those sleds out for the snow had drifted deep over and around them. The boys were puzzled to see how near the island the sleds were. It had seemed as if they had gone a long way after abandoning them. Lawrence suggested that they must have wandered about unable to keep to anything like a straight line. They might even have been going in a circle when they ran into the dock. Certainly they were a long way out of their course. They could not repair the damage they had done when they broke into the friendly little shack but they could at least board up the window. They were surprised to find the door standing open. Surely we didn't leave it that way, said Lawrence. Of course we didn't, Ralph replied, for a very good reason we came out of the window. That's true, exclaimed Larry. The snow was drifted against the door so we couldn't open it. Our friend from Smith Harbor has been here and scraped away the snow. There had been more wind and snow during the past few days and no tracks were visible except those of an inquisitive squirrel that had been through the open door. The piece of old canvas and the broken handled axe were gone. It's lucky he didn't find our sleds, said Ralph. If he's followed us over to this harbor we'll have to keep a lookout for him. Margaret was surprised when the sleds were unloaded. Are you boys sure you brought everything, she asked? Sure, Ralph answered. Then I've miscalculated. I thought there was more meat and some more prunes and dried apricots. Her list had been burned in the cabin. When Jack's urging, Ralph made another feeding shelf for the birds. Little could be spared for them, but Jack put out some crumbs and a piece of freshened fat. One morning Lawrence discovered that the whole chunk of fat was gone. Those rascally squirrels, I suppose, said Ralph. Come outdoors a minute, Larry answered. I want to show you something. Ralph followed him to the tree where the shelf was. He pointed silently to the snow. There among the bird tracks were a number of big prints, much larger than squirrel or rabbit tracks, but not those of a man. A dog, Ralph said. Where in the world did a dog come from? Do you really think it was a dog? Why, you see the tracks. They're certainly dog tracks. What else, Ralph stopped suddenly. A wolf, he exclaimed. Lawrence nodded. Very likely. Evidently, there was only one. You can see his trail both going and coming. From the looks of these tracks around the tree, I should say he must have stood on his hind legs to reach that nail. He was the thief, all right. There are no squirrel tracks around here. Well, said Ralph, once there was only one, there is a possibility that it may have been a dog after all. Someone may have left him here in the fall, or he may belong to that man. At any rate, we don't need to say anything to the others till we know. We may never see any more of him. We shall if we hang out any more fat, Larry returned. So Ralph suggested to the others that they put out no more fat for the birds. They might need every scrap themselves before spring, he said, and must not waste any. The birds knew how to take care of themselves anyway. The next morning Margaret told him that something had upset the garbage box and had spilled everything that was not frozen down. The tracks looked as if there might have been two of the animals, but Ralph and Larry could not be sure. The trail led to the place where they had emptied the garbage and fish cleanings when the box was full. The animal had tried to dig down through the snow into the frozen mass. From there the tracks led to the woods. The boys could see distinctly that the beast had either made the trip back and forth twice or that there had been two of them. The older boys could not very well help telling Margaret and Jack that the visitor was probably a wolf. Jack was not surprised. She had thought of that possibility herself. We won't leave anything in that box by the door overnight, she said. I wish there were some way we could burn our garbage. There's a big old can with the bottom partly rusted out in that closet under the stairs, Ralph answered. Perhaps we could make an incinerator of it. They set the can up on some bricks and the holes furnishing a draft. They found they could easily burn the garbage in it. The next morning there were some new wolf tracks around the house, but after that the young people saw no more of them. A few days later, Larry, returning after dark from his fishing holes, heard what he thought was the howling of wolves in the distance. If they take it into their heads to come around again, he said, we may have use for that gun of Newt Thorson's we brought over here. I never shot a gun half a dozen times in my life, Ralph returned. Perhaps we'd better practice up a bit. So he and Lawrence began practicing with the rifle the next day. They were poor enough shots at first, but they learned rapidly. Ralph had the more accurate eye and gave promise of becoming with experience a really good shot. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 When Lighthouses Are Dark By Ethel C. Brill This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 22. Hard Ships The castaways were more comfortable in some ways in the lighthouse than they had been in the cabin. Though the situation was more exposed, the house itself was warmer. It was amazing, though, how much fuel it took to keep the fires going in two stoves in a fireplace, and how much woodcutting the boys had to do. They could use their snowshoes but little in the thick woods, and floundering around in the snow, carrying or dragging logs to the sled, was even harder than the actual axe work. Fishing through the ice, though not such hard work physically, was becoming decidedly monotonous, too. It was necessary, however, for them to catch as many fish as possible as their stores were rapidly diminishing. Some of their supplies had been lost in the fire, and at least half of the vegetables and many of the canned goods they had saved from the flames were spoiled by freezing. The squirrels had carried away part of the beans and peas, and the mysterious thief had helped himself to meet dried fruit and sugar, besides destroying a quantity of flour and meal. The young folks' appetites were hearty, and it was astonishing how fast their food supplies disappeared. So a part of each day was devoted to watching for the little flags to rise and indicate a bite. The bitter wind swept the ice, and the work was often discouraging. When, as happened all too frequently, hours were spent in this way without a fish to show for all their discomfort. Margaret's tasks were even more monotonous than the boys' work for, whatever happened, they must eat three times a day. It was cook and wash dishes and wash and iron and mend their clothes most of the time for her. What spare time she had she spent in knitting. She had completed mittens, caps, and one pair of stockings each for all of them before the boys made their last trip to the other harbour, and after making another pair of stockings all around she set to work to knit mufflers. The few books had been burned in the cabin with the exception of three, a novel, a work on geology, and a book of travels that the boys had found when poking around in the charred remains. Though scorched and blackened, the three books were still readable, and they read them over and over again until they fairly knew them by heart. Larry said he was even tempted to try reading them backwards. The lads had made a new checkerboard and a set of chessmen, so crudely carved that the players had some difficulty telling kings from bishops and knights from pawns. It was often a problem to find amusements that would serve for relaxation on stormy days and in the evenings when they were not tired enough to go to bed immediately after the evening meal. Looking off across the snow-covered woods and the desolate waste of frozen lake made them feel so lonely and forsaken that they seldom climbed the tower stairs. Often they discussed the possibility of crossing to the mainland on the ice, but they always came to the conclusion that, as long as they were fairly comfortable where they were, the risk of such an attempt was too great. There was seldom a day when they could not see somewhere what appeared to be open water. Of course their view was out over the wide stretch of lake to east and southeast. It was possible that the ice might extend clear across from the northwest shore of the island to the mainland, but even if the ice was firm to reach civilization they must travel at least fifty miles, exposed to the bitter cold and in constant danger of a change of weather that might bring blinding snow or fog. Occasionally in the evening Margaret and the boys climbed to the platform for a good view of the northern lights. Sometimes the lights were all of one color, light pale green or faintly rosy, now almost stationary, again shooting up in columns and breaking out and spreading rays. On other nights they filled the whole northern sky with wavering many colored flames, fading away in one place only to flash out in another. The Eliot's often wondered if, somewhere in the far north, their Uncle Frank was watching the Aurora Borealis too. He was the only near relative they had left and it was nearly two years now since they had seen him, for he had gone north with an Arctic exploring expedition. Meg remembered his telling her once that some of the northern Indians believed the dancing rays to be the spirits of their dead friends while others said the lights were far away in the land of the giants and came from the wavering torches carried by those great and dreadful beings at their nightly fishing. As yet the young people were not really suffering, but they were finding their life far harder than they had dreamed it would be. As the days of work and loneliness, of cold and isolation, of anxiety in regard to supplies and never ceasing effort to keep warm and comfortable went by, they awoke to a full realization of their situation. Of course there was nothing to do but make the best of things and they tried to keep cheerful and not to complain, but they did not always succeed by any means. They were cross and sharp at times, especially when they were tired, they fretted when little things went wrong, were inclined to find fault with one another, to argue about petty things and to grow excited over the arguments. As the days went on these habits grew. In fact they were getting too much of one another's society. Jack was the best-natured of the four, but even he was fussy and cranky too often. Finally on the last day of January their irritability, which had been growing for a month, came to a head one evening in a general quarrel. Some little thing of no consequence started the trouble and they fell to arguing and then to quarreling. Jack was impertinent and Ralph boxed his ears and sent him to bed. Margaret flared up and took Jack's part. Ralph said unpleasant things in reply. Larry interfered and Meg bolted from the room in tears. Then Larry and Ralph had it out, each growing angrier and more unreasonable every moment until Larry said he had taken all he could stand and that they must go out in the snow next morning and fight it out. Ralph agreed and they dropped their dispute and both went to bed in sullen silence. Ralph was so angry he could not sleep, but as he lay there he began to cool off. There came to his mind a story his Uncle Frank had told him about two men who wintered together in the Arctic, fell to arguing then to quarreling, went crazy and fought till one was dead and the other so badly hurt that he froze to death. The story took hold of the boy's imagination. That's what we'll be coming to if we don't stop this scrapping, he thought. We've got to stop it. There are a couple of months of this thing before us yet. We must call a halt on ourselves and I'm the worst one of the lot. He lay awake for a long time and thought the thing out. It was Larry's turn next morning to make the fires, but Ralph slipped out of bed early and had them all going before the older boy got up. When he came into the kitchen he looked at Ralph rather sheepishly. I thought it was my turn to get up first, he said hesitatingly. It was, but I happened to wake, so I thought, see here Larry, I was to blame last night and I'm sorry, I don't want to fight, do you? No, the other answered flushing. You weren't any more to blame than I was. Let's call it all off. Agreed. We've all been making idiots of ourselves and I've been thinking we've got to quit it or we'll all go crazy before the next two months are up. That's just what I think. I don't know what's been the matter with me lately, but I think I can behave myself if I try hard enough. Just then Margaret came in and a little later Jack. Neither of them said anything about the night before. When breakfast was over Ralph placed the matter before them all. Meg said she had been thinking about it too. They talked it over and agreed to try to be less impatient. To help them to self-control they decided to lay penalties for ill temper. When they were cross or cranky Larry and Ralph agreed to chop wood for half an hour as punishment. Jack to shovel snow and Margaret to scour the pots and pans, the work she hated most. After their resolution to behave themselves things went better for a while for they tried harder to make the best of what could not be helped. The food supply was beginning to run alarmingly low. The stock of salt meat would not last until spring unless fishing game were obtained to eek it out but fishing was yielding almost nothing although the boys cut holes in all sorts of places even going a mile or more out on the lake. It seemed to them that perhaps hunting might be more successful so they began to frequent the woods following the hair and squirrel tracks and laying in weight in bushes and thickets. Of course it was easy to tell the dainty little pairs of footprints ending abruptly at a tree or at a hole in the snow where the squirrel had sought for some of his buried stores or had run through a tunnel in the snow to another tree from the larger bunched tracks of a hare. A hare's tracks do not resemble those of any other animal except for his short-eared first cousin the rabbit. The first time Ralph went hunting he found plenty of tracks but the only thing he succeeded in bagging was one squirrel. He followed one hair trail for some time noticing from the prints in the snow where the animal had crouched to browse a birch shoot or a bit of tender bark or had sat up on its haunches for a moment to take an observation leaving the mark of its little bunch of a tail. He could easily imagine the hare ears up, bulging eyes looking behind as well as before and nose wrinkled to catch a new or dangerous scent. The trail ended abruptly in a bush where there were plain signs of a scuffle. In the snow with the marks of the animal's body and paws were distinctly printed X's, the marks of big claws. Some large bird had not only killed but carried off the hare. Later as Ralph was going home in the dusk he heard the long drawn hoot of an owl. There's the fellow that got the hare he thought. That's his haunting cry. I should think such a racket as that would scare the game all away. I'm afraid we'll have to set some snares, he said when he was displaying his lone squirrel to Meg and Larry. There are plenty of tracks but it's hard to get a glimpse of a hare. We're not out of meat yet, Lawrence replied. Let's not take to trapping till we have to. I don't so much mind shooting a hare though I should never do it for pleasure. I would rather hunt with a camera. But I hate traps. They're such cruel unsportsmanlike things. Did you ever see a rabbit in a snare? No. Well I have, hanging by its neck in a noose, its tongue sticking out and its eyes bulging. I've never wanted to trap anything since. Shooting is over in a minute but I'd hate to torture my game by hanging it. I hadn't thought of it that way, Ralph answered but I guess I agree with you. We won't try snaring till we have to at any rate. That night there was a light snow and when Larry went into the woods two days later he was surprised to see how few hair tracks were to be found. Squirrels were still plentiful and he succeeded in getting three. Then the squirrels seemed to disappear. Several times Lawrence or Ralph went hunting but not an animal of any kind did they come across. They saw a new trail that puzzled them. The prints were like the cat tracks they had seen around the burned house but larger. The mark left by a wolf's foot is a good deal like that of a dog but these tracks were more like those of a cat only much bigger and farther apart. Evidently some new beast was frequenting the neighborhood. When lighthouses are dark this LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 23. The hunter is hunted. One day as he was returning from an unsuccessful hunt Ralph found the trails of two hairs. These are certainly new tracks he said to himself. I wonder if I'd have a better chance of bagging a hair if I came out at night. Rabbits are sort of nocturnal animals but I don't know about hairs. As he went on towards the lighthouse he was thinking about making a night trip when he became conscious that something was following him. He did not hear it or see it but he felt that it was there. Turning in his tracks he looked about him. There was not a sign of life anywhere. He went on again but the feeling persisted. He swung around suddenly and glanced quickly about. It was getting dim under the trees and in the thickets but his eyes were keen. He had used them so much in the woods of late that he had gained a good deal of confidence in his ability to discover the live things even when they remained half-hidden and motionless. After the first quick glance he stood perfectly still examining every bush and tree carefully and searchingly. Not a thing out of the ordinary could he find. He listened attentively. The rustling of the breeze in the trees and the sharp strokes of a woodpecker drilling a spruce were the only sounds. Since the day they had dug out the buried sleds he and Larry had seen no traces of the mysterious man and they had concluded that their strange enemy had taken himself off to some other part of the island. Now Relf was wondering if it was the man who was following him. The boy could get sight or sound of nothing suspicious but he could not rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling. In spite of his attempts to convince himself that it was all nonsense he found himself watching the woods closely on either side and even looking over his shoulder from time to time. Not until he was clear of the trees and out on the snow-covered ice did the sensation of being followed leave him. He said nothing to the others about the experience for he was afraid it might have been merely imagination. The next evening Relf tried a night hunt. Margaret did not like the idea of his going into the woods alone after dark but he was determined. He insisted that Larry remain at the lighthouse with her and Jack for he did not want to leave them alone there at night with the mysterious man prowling about perhaps. To allay Meg's fears he promised her that if he heard a wolf or even saw a wolf track he would return as fast as he could. He did not mention the cat-like trail. Leaving the lighthouse he followed the path to the fishing camp and then started across the ice to the main shore. It was a clear, still, very cold night and the hard, brilliant moonlight set the snow glittering as if powdered with diamond dust while the evergreens and bare-branched trees of the forest looked inky-black between snow and sky. He felt a bit uneasy about entering the dark woods but he laughed at himself and went ahead. Once in the woods he was obliged to go cautiously not only to avoid making any noise that would startle possible game but because in the darkness among the trees where the moonlight shone through only in ghostly streaks and patches it was often difficult to see and feel his way. He was the more careful too because he was alone and he did not like to risk tripping in a tangle of small evergreens or over a half-buried log. To disable himself when alone in the woods at night might be a serious matter. So all the conditions making for caution he went very slowly. He had entered the wood at the same place where he had come out the day before. His trail showed distinctly and before long he found the hair-tracks he had noticed. Perhaps one of the little beasts might take it into its head to come the same way again, he thought so he concealed himself in the shadow of a spruce and waited for a while. He appeared, however, and after standing quiet until he began to chill he wanted to be moving again. He started to follow the trail keeping to one side of it so as not to destroy it. The hair had been moving rapidly for the larger prints of its hind feet showed head and to either side of the smaller, closer set marks of the forefeet. In making a detour around a thick clump of balsams Ralph lost the tracks for a few minutes. While he was hunting for them he again felt the queer sensation he had noticed the day before the feeling of being followed. In a moment he was certain something was after him. There was a prickly sensation in the back of his neck and he shivered a little. He turned as he had done before and peered into the gloom of the trees behind him and on either side. Surely there was nothing moving. If there was anything alive there it must have stopped when he stopped. Ahead of him lay an open space flooded with moonlight. He would trick the man or animal if there was one. He went forward hastily, less cautious about noise now, out into the moonlit space and straight across it. Then just as he reached the other side he swung quickly about lifting his rifle. He had hoped the thing, increasing its speed to keep up with him might come out into the open. But the snowy stretch lay still and undisturbed marred only by his track across it. At one side however in the gloom of the trees he thought he discerned a slight movement some dark bulk moving slowly. But if there really was something moving it stopped or disappeared in an instant. Again Ralph could see no sign of life. He stood still for several minutes, irresolute, uncertain whether to lay the singular feeling that possessed him to imagination and to continue his hunting or to turn about and retrace his steps. As he paused there sounded near at hand and appalling, whoo, coming so suddenly out of the stillness it seemed to fill the whole air. It made the boy start with fright. In an instant down on his head swooped a great owl, the tip of his wing almost touching the lad's cap. Ralph certainly jumped that time and barely restrained himself from crying out as the owl swept by and was lost to sight in a moment. The reason for the bird's terrifying hunting cry had become clear. The owl counted on startling a small bird or animal so that it would jump or tremble. Then he located the poor beast by the slight noise, a rustle in a bush or a scrape on the bark of a tree or something of the sort and pounced on it. That was what had happened to the hare whose track Ralph had seen a few days before. The lad did not think all this out until afterward, however. At that moment his mind was occupied with something else. Even as he started he had seen something move. There could be no doubt of it. A black shape close by in the shadow of a bush had stirred. For an instant he had caught the gleam of eyes. It was only for an instant but he was sure. He was being followed by some animal, a wolf perhaps. Ralph was frightened. The stillness broken only by the owl's cry, the darkness, the loneliness, the skulking black form, the gleaming eyes, the queer feeling that he, the hunter, was being hunted, or enough to frighten anyone. His first impulse was to make tracks for home as fast as he could go, but with an effort he restrained himself. To run from the animal, to show fear, would be the worst thing he could do. He would retrace his trail and get out of the woods as soon as he safely could, but he would not run. Of course he might shoot at the place where he had seen the eyes, but he doubted the wisdom of doing that. He could not make out the beast. He would probably miss, or worse still, he might wound it just a little, enough to make it attack him. He remembered the big cat tracks he had seen not far from that place. If the animal was one of the cat tribe, it might show fight. Had Larry been with him armed too, Ralph might have risked the shot, but he was alone and prudence restrained him. All these things flashed through the boy's mind in a moment. Quietly forcing himself to move deliberately, he started back across the moonlit space. He held his gun ready to lift, and he kept his eye on the edge of the gloom. But he saw no more of the gleaming eyes, no movement of a dim shape. He crossed the open space and entered the shadows again, following his own trail. For some minutes he went on without hearing a sound or catching a movement. A little way ahead of him, a partly dead tree leaned out at an angle. His trail lay under it. Part of the leaning trunk was in the moonlight, the rest in shadow. As he drew near he was struck with something singular about that tree. The part in shadow seemed curiously thickened. He stopped still and gazed at it intently. Surely the tree had not looked like that when he came that way before. There was something wrong with it. A little to his left there was a slight rustle in a thicket. He moved cautiously towards it. As he approached he came into the shadow of a clump of evergreens. There he stood for a moment, perfectly still. His attention divided between the bush and the leaning tree. There was another little rustle in the bush. A hare jumped out into the moonlight near the tree. Ralph raised his gun to shoot, but he did not fire. Before he was ready the hare, leaping along the track had come directly under the leaning tree. Then suddenly the thickened part of the tree moved. A round head came out into the moonlight. A paw shot out. There was a snarl. The beast that had been laying along the tree trunk launched itself down onto the hare. It missed its aim. The hare made a tremendous bound into a thicket, and the big beast uttered a screech of disappointed rage. That screech sent the cold shivers down Ralph's spine. The animal dropped from the tree to the moonlit snow, and for an instant the lad had a clear view of it. A creature three or four times the size of an ordinary cat, with a round head, something like a cat, but longer legs in proportion to its body. In the moonlight its coat looked a sort of brown gray, and it had a short tail and tufts on its ears. The sudden appearance and blood-curdling screech had startled Ralph so that he forgot to shoot. When he did think to raise his rifle it was too late. The big cat had leaped back into the shadow, and suddenly was gone. Strain his eyes as he might, the boy could get no glimpse of the beast. He stood still for a few moments, before venturing to continue on his way. Then it occurred to him that the slinking, silent, fierce animal might be maneuvering at that moment for an attack on him. He resumed his journey at once. He went a little faster than before, but nonetheless cautiously. All the time he had the uncomfortable feeling that the great noiseless cat might be close behind, or hiding in every shadowy place of the way. His main desire was to get to open ground as soon as possible, and before the moon went down. It was not until he was well out of the woods and speeding across the harbour that the fear of the creeping beast left him. He knew then what had left the cat-like tracks and had in all probability frightened away the hairs and squirrels. Then a queer thing happened. For weeks Ralph had not seen a hair near the lighthouse, but that night as he came out of the woods on the way behind the house, a big white hair bounded right across his path. He fired, spring forward, and stooped to secure his prize. Then some heavy thing fell upon his back. His face was driven down into the snow. He tried to struggle, but something struck him, a sharp blow on the head, and his senses left him. End of Chapter 23 Chapter 24 When Light Houses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 24. Tracking the Strange Man When Ralph came to, he was lying face down in the snow. He was dazed, his head ached, and for a few moments he did not know what had happened to him. Then he remembered. He struggled to his feet. His hand still grasped the rifle, but the hair he had killed was gone. The moonlight flooded the snow, and he could see clearly his own tracks and those of the creature that had come up behind him, jumped on his back, forced him down into the snow, seized his game, and then had made off at full speed. Though Ralph was stiff and numb with cold, he started to follow those tracks. They led him around the lighthouse and into the woods, but before he had gone far he realized that, in his present state, pursuit was useless. His head ached frightfully from the blow he had received. He was dizzy and sick. After he had stumbled and fallen the third time he gave up, he did not know how long he had lain unconscious, long enough at any rate for his enemy to get a good start. Even if he succeeded in overtaking that enemy, Ralph realized that he was in no condition just then for a fight. He would inevitably get the worst of the encounter. He turned back to the lighthouse, brushed the snow from his clothes, and hammered on the door. It was Lawrence who admitted him, but Margaret was close behind. The moment she saw her brother's face she cried out, Ralph, what is the matter? Are you hurt? Not to amount to anything, he replied, taking hold of the door frame to steady himself. I fell down and bumped my head. It aches a little. That was all the explanation he would give of the lump on the back of his head, though he could see that both Larry and Meg doubted his story. They had good reason to doubt it as he was to learn. About a half hour before, Jack having gone to bed, the two had been sitting in the living-room, Meg knitting and Lawrence reading aloud from the much-read book of travels, when moved by some common impulse they had both glanced up at the window. There they saw distinctly a face looking in, a wild, haggard face with gleaming eyes and unkempt beard. In an instant it was gone. Larry sprang up and ran to the back door, but Meg called after him not to go into danger and leave her alone. So he contended himself with opening the door and looking out. The man had the start of him anyway. You boys, said Margaret, when he had closed the door, have tried to make me believe there wasn't anyone spying on us, but you can't keep that up any longer. I've suspected for a long time, and I've been very sure ever since Christmas Eve. Then she told him of seeing the same face that night. Lawrence in turn confessed about the tracks he and Ralph had found, their attempt to follow them, and the robbery of the storeroom at the fishing-camp. Of course, he explained, it wouldn't be a bit worse for him to take those provisions than it was for us to do it, if he had been open and straightforward about it. We never would have grudged him his share, but he seems to be afraid of us, and yet he wants to deprive us of what he doesn't need himself. So we have to watch out for him and be on our guard against him. Ralph listened to their story, but it was not until Margaret had gone to bed that he told Larry of the attack on himself. They agreed that they must follow the strange man's trail and try at least to find out what he was and where he came from. Ralph's head ached so that he found it hard to sleep that night, but he dropped off at last. When he rose in the morning he was still weak and dizzy, and it was afternoon before he felt equal to pursuing his enemy. Telling Margaret they were going hunting, the two lads started out, Lawrence with the rifle and Ralph carrying an axe. They examined the tracks carefully. The footprints were distinct, but those made by the right foot were more deeply marked. This fact, together with the irregularity and unequal spacing, convinced the boys that the man must be lame in one leg and that he was wearing badly worn-out shoes or moccasins. The peculiarities in the trail were more apparent at first, where he had evidently been running, then further on where he had slowed his pace. The tracks led to the ridge on the northwest side of the little bay beyond the house, and along the rock clearing the four explorers had followed on their first visit to the lighthouse. Beyond the head of the bay the trail turned into the swamp. That swamp was a veritable tangle of fallen and standing trees and undergrowth. Why anyone should want to go through such a place the boys were at a loss to understand. In summer it would have been almost impossible to penetrate, and even when it was frozen and snow-covered it was difficult enough to cross. Snowshoes could not be used at all, and following the trail that curved and bent and circled in the most erratic manner was slow work. After ten or fifteen minutes of such going the boys came upon a small windfall where the man had evidently gone down on his hands and knees and crawled under two cedars. The trees had fallen against each other, their interlocking branches holding them up, so that an opening was left between the trunks and the snow about three feet high at its apex. Ralph dropped down on his knees to follow the trail through the hole, but Larry laid hands on him and pulled him back. Wait a minute, he whispered. The creature may be hiding in there now. He may get the advantage of us. Let's see if the trail stops here or comes out somewhere. Realizing the wisdom of caution, Ralph drew back. The two then started to circle the windfall. On the other side, about opposite the place where the man had crawled into the tangle, the trail issued through a clump of bushes. He went on again all right, said Ralph. But before we follow, I want to look at that hole. Maybe it's where he lives. Let's go in on the other side, Larry replied. It will be easier. They retraced their steps and crawled under the interlocking trees. There, under slanting trunks and tangled branches, was a hole like the lair of a wild animal. The frozen ground was almost bare of snow and was strewn with branches that had been broken off to make a space about four feet high and five feet across each way. The light was dim in the strange burrow, and Ralph struck a match. As the flame flickered, it showed upon the ground the torn, bloody skin and broken bones of a hare. There's all that's left of my hair, cried Ralph. The boys examined the remains of the animal, then stared at each other in consternation. He ate it raw, said Ralph. Larry nodded, tore the skin off and nod the bones, he said. What sort of a thing is he, Ralph exclaimed? Do you suppose it can be an animal after all, Larry? Not with those tracks. Besides, Meg and I saw him. Lawrence was silent for a moment. Then he said slowly, Ralph, I don't know what sort of a creature that man is, but he must be starving to eat a hare raw. It looks as if he had had a fire here, too, but he couldn't wait to cook his meat. The strange man's unexplainable behavior made the boys more eager than ever to track him down. The trail led them through the swamp and up the ridge bounding the second and larger bay they had visited on their first trip to the lighthouse. To the summit of this ridge, which was probably not more than a hundred feet high and along the top, the tracks ran. The ridge top was open rock with scattering jackpines growing in the depressions and crevices and other trees in the occasional transverse gullies. The wind had swept some parts almost bare of snow and packed it hard in others so the footprints were more difficult to trace. While following the ridge, the lads noticed a number of hair tracks. Once when Lawrence paused to glance at what seemed to be a fresh track, he heard a rustling in a tree-clothed gully just ahead. Motioning to Ralph to keep still, Larry crept forward cautiously. Just as he reached the edge of the gully, a hare leaped into plain sight between two trees. Larry was prepared for a quick shot and made it successfully. The trip had not been in vain whether the strange man was overtaken or not. When a little farther along, he succeeded in shooting another hare, both boys were so pleased that the chase they had started on seemed of minor consequence. The really important thing was that they were going to have fresh meat for dinner. They followed the ridge beyond the head of the harbor until they reached a place where they could look down on a small lake, perhaps a half-mile long. There on the wind-swept rock they lost the trail and were obliged to hunt for it. In his search Lawrence came upon a deep, irregularly shaped hole partly filled with snow from which two jackpines projected. Ralph come here and see this queer-looking place, he called. I wonder if it can be one of the old Indian pits. The book on geology which had been saved from the fire mentioned in a footnote that old Indian copper mines had been found on the island. As Ralph turned at Larry's call he saw his friend move forward a few steps, slip and clutch wildly at a dead pine that slanted out over the hole. He grasped a branch, but the tree, balanced on the edge and ready to fall, needed scarcely more than a touch to make it lose its insecure hold. Down went the boy to the bottom of the pit, the tree crashing after him. End of Chapter 24 Chapter 25 When Light Houses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 25. The Links Ralph sprang forward as the cloud of flying snow settled he could see his companion lying on his face, his right leg caught under the fallen tree. Ralph scrambled down the slope and was relieved to see that Larry was conscious. He twisted about a little and tried to pull his foot out. When Ralph reached him, he was groaning with pain. I can't budge my foot, he said, and it hurts to try. Then he added in an effort to make the best of the accident. It's bruised a bit, I guess. I'm not hurt anywhere else. The foot was wedged under the trunk, where there were no branches. Ralph attempted to move the tree enough to release his friend, but with all his efforts he could not lift it. Perhaps if he cut off some of the branches and lightened it, he might manage to raise it, he thought. He had chopped off two of the larger branches when another idea occurred to him. Why not cut the tree trunk a little above where Larry's foot was pinned? He could surely lift the section remaining. But at the first stroke of Ralph's axe on the trunk, Larry cried out sharply. The blow jarred the tree just enough to cause a new pressure on his foot. Try it farther up, he said, when Ralph had explained what he wanted to do. Ralph did so, and though the pressure still hurt Lawrence, it was not more than he could bear. After chopping through the trunk, Ralph was able to raise the section under which Larry's foot was caught so that the ladder could draw it out. When Ralph reached his side, he found the injured boy ghastly white and the perspiration standing out on his face. I'm almost afraid my foot's crushed some, he said. We'll have to get you home before we can tell. Every movement of his hurt foot pained Lawrence frightfully and a very few steps caused him to almost faint away. I can help you up the bank, said Ralph, but you never can walk all the way home and I don't believe I can carry you that far on my back. It must be about three miles. Of course you can't carry me, I'll have to walk somehow. You mustn't even try, Ralph was emphatic. You might get your foot in such shape it never would get well. There's only one thing to do. I'll have to leave you here and go back for the toboggan. You'll be better sheltered down here than up in the wind, don't try to get you out of the hole for the present. It will take me some time to make the trip. I can't possibly get back before dark. I'm going to make you as comfortable as I can first. You mustn't let your foot freeze, it's beginning to snow too. Hastening back to a tree-covered gully that crossed the ridge, Ralph stripped from an old birch some big sheets of bark, all he could carry. A second trip to cut two slender aspens from which he trimmed most of the branches. With a snowshoe he scraped away the snow around one of the pines that grew in the hole. He was surprised to uncover a patch of wintergreen and bearberry plants, their glossy leaves looking as fresh and green as in summer. He strewed part of the cleared space with pine-bows. Then he set the big sheets of bark up so they would rest against the tree and the poles making a primitive shelter that would protect Lawrence from the falling snow. A small space just within the entrance to the lean-to had been left free of branches, and there, within a framework of green logs to keep it from spreading, Ralph kindled a fire taking care to place it so the flames could not reach the bark covering. Beside the fire he piled enough fuel to last until he made the trip to the lighthouse and back. Dusk had come by the time he was ready to start. Lawrence was surprised that it did not seem colder in the lean-to. He felt quite warm and except for his aching foot very comfortable. As he sat there between the jack pine and the fire, chewing a wintergreen leaf and drowsily listening to the crackling of the birch wood, the rustling of the pine needles and the light breeze, and the soft thud of an occasional mass of snow falling from the tree. As darkness came on, his drowsiness increased and presently he fell asleep. He woke suddenly with a most uncomfortable feeling of danger. He could hear a slight noise, a crunching as of an animal eating a bone. The fire had died down to little more than embers. Beyond the coals gleamed two bright eyes. Larry sat motionless. The eyes turned away. The crunching began again. Larry had taken one of the hairs with him for the evening meal, but had left the other laying near the fire. Something was feasting on that hair. Larry could see enough to make out that the thief was not a man, but an animal of some kind. At the thought of losing that fresh meat, sudden anger stirred the boy. He reached for the rifle that lay beside him. His movement disturbed the beast. Again the gleaming eyes turned towards him. Then Larry fired. There was a fierce cat-like screech and Larry struggled to his feet. His shot had wounded the animal slightly. A second shot missed entirely. The big cat did not run, but crouched down silent, its angry eyes watching its enemy, its stub of a tail twitching nervously. Before Larry could fire again, it uttered another of its fierce screeches and sprang straight at him. He jumped back, his injured foot doubled under him and he went down. His backward jump had saved him, however, for the animal landed in front of him, not on him, one cruel, outstretched claw tearing his trouser's leg and scratching through to the skin. At the same instant there was a shout and Ralph Axe raised burst into the lean-to. His axe descended on the beast's head, smashing the skull. He had put all the strength he could muster into that quick blow. And the two boys examined the dead beast. Is this like the animal that followed you last night? Lawrence asked. I don't know whether that was what was after me, Ralph replied, but it's like the beast that jumped out of the tree. It's the same color as near as I can tell and it has tufts on its ears and great big pads of feet and a stub of a tail. It's the same thing all right. Is it a wildcat or a lynx? A Canada lynx. It was lucky for me you came when you did. They are ugly beasts when wounded. I've always heard so and now I know it. Climbing up the steep slope was a hard task for Larry, but he undertook it pluckily and with Ralph's help succeeded at last. There Ralph settled him on the toboggan and wrapped him in a blanket. They went along the ridge to the head of the little bay. Ralph had trouble taking the toboggan with Larry on it across the tree-clothed gully. He knew crossing the swamp was out of the question. On his trip from the lighthouse he had come along the ice of the bay and had found a partly open expanse of ridge side where he had climbed to the summit. Now he took Lawrence down the same way, exerting all his strength to hold the toboggan back from making too swift a descent. The ice reached safely. They went down the bay to its mouth and along close to shore. Luckily the falling snow was not thick enough to be confusing even in the darkness. Lawrence did not make a sound of complaint all the way home, but after Ralph had carried him from the sled had put him in his bunk and was taking off his moccasin he almost fainted away. Margaret pulled the pillow out from under his head and bathed his forehead with cold water while Ralph proceeded to remove the woolen stocking. He was relieved to see that there was no blood on it, but when he looked at the foot itself he whistled sharply. It was badly discoloured and in some places the blood had settled just under the skin, but the skin itself was not broken and Larry could move his toes. The three could not find that there were any broken bones, but the ankle was sprained and as painful as the foot. It's lucky your whole foot wasn't crushed, Ralph exclaimed. It must have been the snow that saved it. I've no right to complain, Larry answered pluckily, if nothing's broken. To tell the truth I thought at first the whole thing was smashed to a pulp. And no doctor nearer than fifty miles, said Margaret soberly. End of chapter 25 CHAPTER 26 When Light Houses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 26. Chased by Wolves No one knew just what to do for Lawrence's foot, which swelled badly and turned all sorts of colours. He could not step on it and Ralph put the cot in the living room for him, so he would not have to go back and forth from one room to another. Meg's bed was moved to the kitchen. The snowstorm had so effaced the mysterious man's tracks that Ralph could not have followed them even if he had dared risk the attempt alone. A few days after Larry's injury Ralph was obliged to go for more wood. Jack would have gone with him to help, but he was suffering from a slight attack of indigestion. Margaret accompanied her brother. Carrying wood, she said, would at least be a change from housework. Ralph fell to spruce, trimmed off the branches, and cut the trunk in lengths they could handle. The sun set as they neared the end of their task, and through the woods there came to them the faint faraway howl of a wolf. Meg was startled, but Ralph reassured her. That fellow was a long way off, he said. We've heard wolves several times when we have been cutting wood, but they have never come anywhere near us. A little later they heard the howling again, and that time it was not so far away. It sounded like the voices of several wolves, and Ralph thought the time had come to make speed. We'll take out this last load, he said, and then we'll make tracks for home. While they were putting the wood on the toboggan they heard the wolves again, all together too near for comfort. Seizing the rope they got away as rapidly as they could. They had just cleared the shore and reached the open harbour where they could go faster when the howling came once more, so near that it thoroughly startled them. They made a new effort to get ahead. A moment later Margaret looked back over her shoulder and uttered a little cry. Ralph, look there! He looked. Three, four lean dark dog-like shapes had emerged from the woods near the place where the toboggan had been. They were big timber wolves. Drop the rope, Ralph ordered. We'll leave the sled here. Go on as fast as you can, but steadily don't get scared. He remembered that he had read that one must not run from wolves. A moment later he looked back again. The four beasts seemed to be following, but they were not coming very fast. They sank down in the soft upper layer of new-fallen snow more than Meg and Ralph did with their snowshoes. Why didn't I have sense enough to bring the gun, Ralph thought? Then he remembered that he had left his only weapon, the axe in the toboggan. Telling Meg to go on he started back. When he turned the wolves stopped and stood watching him. They don't seem to be very brave, he thought, encouraged. He reached the toboggan, picked up the axe, and was about to go on after Margaret when there occurred to him a device that might frighten the beasts. Hastily he gathered up a handful of twigs and chips, made a little pile in the trail, lighted it, and added some larger pieces. By the time he was ready to start on, Meg was some distance ahead. As soon as he began to move forward the wolves followed. At first he did not try to overtake his sister, but went unsteadily, armed with the axe, and glancing back now and then. The animals came on in the trail of the sled until they neared the fire. Then they paused, as Ralph had hoped they would, and stood still watching the queer thing, and evidently fearing to approach it. After a little one of them started to make a detour to the right to avoid the blaze and presently the others followed. The device of the fire had gained a little time for the pursuit, but before long Ralph discovered that the wolves had changed their tactics. When they had circled the fire three of them turned towards the trail again. The fourth, apparently the leader of the pack, kept on its way at some distance to the right, but increased its speed, going forward with great bounds. In an instant Ralph realized that this beast was maneuvering to head them off while the rest of the pack came up from behind. He hastened forward to catch up with Margaret, who had nothing with her to defend herself. In the meantime Jack at the lighthouse had grown restless and leaving Lawrence asleep on his cot had gone out for a little run on his snowshoes. He kept near the house, but coming to a place where he had a good view down the harbor he saw Margaret and Ralph approaching. The sun had gone down, but there was still light enough so that he could see plainly, against the white snow, the three dark, dog-like figures following his brother and sister. Jack did not hesitate. He hurried to the lighthouse, kicked off his snowshoes, rushed into the kitchen, seized the rifle and ammunition, dashed out again, resumed his snowshoes, and started to the rescue. It was not until he was well out on the harbor that he noticed the fourth wolf a little way to his left and almost opposite him. Ralph shouted to him to go back, but the younger boy paid no heed. Loading the rifle as he went he hastened forward. As he placed the loaded weapon in Ralph's hands the latter handed him the axe in exchange. Then Ralph turned about and took aim at the first of the three beasts in the trail. They had drawn unpleasantly close. He had an excellent chance for a shot, and he never could explain why he missed, but he did miss his shot going wide. The noise seemed to frighten the animals, though. They shrank back, retreated a few paces and stood still. Ralph took the occasion to go on after Margaret and Jack. Glancing ahead and to either side he was surprised to find that the leading wolf had disappeared. Once more he turned and took aim at the three beasts in the rear who were coming on again. He was cooler and more careful that time. A wolf leaped back with a sharp howl and the others turned and fled. Ralph stood still for a moment watching them. They ran but a short distance, then paused, turned back and cautiously approached the wounded beast which was crouched down in the snow. Ralph had heard that wolves sometimes kill and devour their own wounded. He waited to see what was going to happen. Suddenly there was a cry from Meg. Turning the boy saw something that almost paralyzed him for a moment. The missing leader had reappeared. In front and a little to the right lay a ridge of broken ice and heaped up snow. Gaining the shelter of that ridge the wolf had been hidden from sight. Now suddenly it had come around the end directly in their path and only a few feet ahead of Meg and Jack. Snarling the beast faced them. Just as Ralph turned the wolf leaped forward. Jack raised his axe but before he could strike Ralph having recovered from his momentary paralysis fired full at the animal's breast. Fortunately Meg, a little to one side and Jack a few paces the other way were out of range. The wolf leaped into the air and fell back in a heap on the snow. From behind came a chorus of long howls. Ralph did not look back to see what was happening there. Darting forward he seized Meg by the hand calling to Jack at the same time. Hurrying past the motionless body of the wolf they made full speed for the lighthouse. They had gone some distance before Ralph turned to look back. Then he saw that the two sound wolves were slowly and hesitatingly drawing near the fallen leader. While farther back the wounded one was dragging itself across the snow after them. The fugitives were almost home by that time. Ralph sent one more shot in the direction of the dark forms but though there was an answering howl he could not tell whether he had done any damage or not. At any rate the wolves did not attempt to resume the chase. The last glimpse Ralph had of them through the gathering darkness they were grouped around the motionless heap in the snow. He wondered if they would devour their dead comrade. The three wasted no time in getting to the lighthouse. The firing had aroused Larry from his nap. He had not felt any particular concern at first supposing Ralph on his way back was taking a shot at a hare. But when the long drawn howling reached his ears he called to Jack and getting no answer left his cot to hop to one window and then to another in a vain attempt to see what was going on. End of Chapter 26 Chapter 27 When Light Houses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 27. The Fight Whether the wolves devoured their dead leader or not Ralph never discovered. More snow fell that night and the next day and when he went back for the loaded sled he could find no trace of the animals. The howling ceased and the young people concluded that the wolves had shifted their hunting ground to some other part of the island. Ralph, however, took the precaution to carry the rifle whenever he went far from the lighthouse. One day, nearly a week after the wolf attack Margaret went out with Ralph again not for wood this time but to watch some fishing lines he had set the day before in holes cut in the ice a little way up the shore beyond the fishing camp. He had taken into consideration when he left the lines overnight that they might be robbed but it was imperative that he add to the fast diminishing food supplies. So as he had more tackle he had decided to take the risk. When the two reached the holes the tackle was safe and the uprights were lying flat Ralph drew up the lines and found them undisturbed apparently no fish had even nibbled at the hooks. After he had been watching for a bite without result for more than a half hour he noticed that several squirrels were chattering in the nearby woods. You watch the lines, Meg, he said and I'll see if I can get one of those fellows one squirrel isn't much but it's better than no meat. He crossed the short stretch of snow-covered ice but by the time he reached the shore the squirrels had scattered. He stalked one for a little way then lost sight and sound of it disgusted he turned back as he came out of the woods a rustling in a bush behind him caused him to look around. He stood still hoping to get a shot at a hair. Suddenly he was startled by a sharp cry Ralph Ralph shrieked Meg's voice turning he saw his sister struggling with a man a ragged wild-looking creature who was trying to take something away from her Ralph raised his rifle then lowered it fearing he might hit Meg with a shout he sprang down the bank and started to run across the ice the ragged man startled dropped Meg's arm at the same time relaxing his hold on the fish he had been trying to take from her as she jumped back she rested the fish from him the man gave a horse inarticulate cry and sprang at her again she turned and ran he after her but as he reached out his hand to lay hold of her again Ralph came up to them with his clubbed rifle he aimed a blow at the man's head the creature turned just in time ducked dodged the blow sprang up and seized Ralph around the neck knocking the rifle from his hand in a moment the two were rolling in the snow in a fierce rough and tumble fight Ralph was strong quick and agile his adversary was weakened by hunger but what he lacked in strength he made up for in fury he fought like a desperate animal clawing scratching choking biting over and over the two rolled in the snow now the ragged man was on top now Ralph he had freed his neck from his enemy's arm but the ladder was trying to sink his teeth in the boy's flesh to get his fingers into his eyes or around his throat there was no fair play about his methods Ralph realized that the creature was fighting to kill with a quick twist and a violent effort the lad wrenched his right arm free then a singular thing happened the man suddenly collapsed and became limp in his surprise Ralph loosened his grip and his right hand stopped halfway to the other's chin had he killed the man he wondered as quickly as they had relaxed his adversary's muscles stiffened again with the suddenness and slipperiness of an eel he was out of Ralph's grasp throwing the boy over on his face as he slipped from underneath him though Ralph was on his feet in an instant the man was up first and was making away with a limping gait but the desperate speed of a wild animal Ralph started in pursuit but with a broken snowshoe and a wrenched knee he had no chance of overtaking that fleeing figure Margaret too was calling to him to come back when he reached her she was down in a heap in the snow her hand still grasping the rifle which she had picked up to go to her brother's rescue her face was ghastly white for a moment he thought she was going to faint but when she found he was not badly hurt she rallied in a few minutes she was able to tell how the man had managed to come upon her without her knowledge the stick across one of the holes had suddenly been pulled upright and she had knelt down by the edge to pull out the fish it was a good-sized one and gave her a hard pull but she finally secured it she had just struck the squirming fish on the head with a piece of wood to put an end to its suffering when she heard behind her a queer growl such as a hungry animal might make she sprang to her feet turned and found herself facing the same villainous looking creature she had seen twice through the window as he gave a husky cry and reached for the fish she shrieked for Ralph the rest he had seen I believe the man is crazy Ralph, she said, shuddering I never saw such strange wild eyes and he didn't speak but just growled and snarled like an animal he's more beast than man all right, the boy answered I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to shoot him oh no, his sister exclaimed I couldn't bear to think of your killing a man I'll kill him for sure if he attacks you again Ralph replied grimly it was the fish he wanted if I had had sense enough to drop it I believe he would have picked it up and run without disturbing me any more I didn't realize I was holding on to it well said Ralph as long as you are not hurt I'm glad you did hold on to it we can have it for dinner they both found themselves weak and shaken now that the danger was over and they made but slow progress to the lighthouse Margaret insisted that they must not tell Jack about their adventure we'll have to keep an eye on him said Ralph and see that he doesn't get far from home alone I won't let him out of my sight replied Meg decidedly we don't want that creature to get a chance to attack him or even frighten him so they told their tale to Lawrence only leaving Jack in apparent ignorance of the danger that had threatened his brother and sister with Larry Ralph debated the advisability of trying once more to track down the strange man but Larry advised against the attempt if I could go with you he said we might try it but I don't think you ought to risk it alone even with the gun you couldn't shoot him on sight in cold blood and if it came to a fight you might get the worst of it and then where would the rest of us be I might scare him and drive him away where would you drive him to off the island he might discover you were tracking him and take you by surprise jump out of a tree on you or something like that Ralph had to admit the reasonableness of Larry's arguments though he was reluctant to give up the idea of tracking down the creature that had made them so much trouble he finally agreed not to attempt it until Larry's foot was well enough to enable him to go to I'm going to watch out for him every minute though he said if I get a glimpse of him I'll warn him that if he comes anywhere near the house or near any one of us again I'll shoot him as if he were a wolf End of Chapter 27