<h2 id="c25"><br/>CHAPTER XXV <br/>THE MIRAGE</h2>
<p>That night Marian lay awake for a long
time. She had a vague feeling that they were
approaching a crisis. Many agencies were at
work. Some appeared to favor the success of
their enterprise, and some were working directly
against them. Scarberry, with his herd, was
some hours ahead of them. That was bad. If
he succeeded in retaining this lead, the race was
lost. However, less than half the distance had
been covered, the easiest half. Many a peril
awaited each herd. Who could tell when prowling
wolves, large bands of Indians, a caribou
herd, an impassable river, might bring either to
a halt?</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_210">[210]</div>
<p>Marian could not answer all of the questions
that troubled her. The Indians? Would they
be satisfied with her gift of food, or would they
continue to prey upon the herd? Would they
go back to some large tribe and lead them to
the herd that they might drive them away, an
easy bounty?</p>
<p>She had dealt with Eskimos; knew about
what to expect from them. “But Indians,”
she whispered to herself, “What are they like?”</p>
<p>As if in answer to her perplexity, there came
to her mind the words of a great and good
man:</p>
<p>“Humanity is everywhere very much the
same.”</p>
<p>This thought gave her comfort. She could
not help but feel that the Indian she had befriended
would not betray her, but might even
come to her aid in some emergency.</p>
<p>“But those of the purple flame?” she whispered
to herself. “That silent watcher on the
hill—what did he mean by sitting there with
a rifle across his knee? Is he and his companions
our friends or our enemies?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_211">[211]</div>
<p>Here, indeed, was a problem. Until this day,
she had felt that these persons were to be distrusted
and feared. However, there had been
something about that silent watcher that had
given her a feeling of safety in spite of her
prejudice.</p>
<p>“It was as if he were set there as a watch
to see that the Indian did us no harm,” she
told herself. “And yet, how could he?”</p>
<p>It was in the midst of this perplexity that
she fell asleep.</p>
<p>Long before dawn the girls awoke to face a
new day and a new, unknown peril. The forest,
stretching out black and somber against the
white foreground of snow, seemed a great menacing
hand, reaching out to seize their precious
possession. They could not know what perils
awaited them in the forest.</p>
<p>With breakfast over, the tents struck, sled-deer
harnessed and hitched to the sled, and
everything in readiness for the continuing of
the race to Fort Jarvis, the girls climbed the
nearest hill, hoping that they might catch some
glimpse of the country beyond the forest.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_212">[212]</div>
<p>Their hopes were vain. Far as eye could see,
the forest stretched before them. They could
only guess the miles they must travel before
coming again to rolling hills and level tundra.
They were traveling over a region of the great
Northland which had never really been explored.
No accurate maps showed where rivers ran or
forests spread out over the plains.</p>
<p>Standing there, looking at the great forest,
Patsy quoted:</p>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">“‘This the forest primeval;</p>
<p class="t0">The murmuring pines and the hemlocks</p>
<p class="t0">Stand like Druids of old</p>
<p class="t0">With beards that rest on their bosom.’</p>
</div>
<p>“And, with two Eskimos for companions, we
are to enter that forest. Only wild people, and
wilder caribou and wolves, have been there before
us. Oh, Marian! We are explorers! We
really, truly are! Isn’t it gran-n-d!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_213">[213]</div>
<p>Marian did not answer. There was a puzzled
look on her face as she stared away toward
the north. Out of the very clouds faint
images appeared to be marching. Yes, yes, now
they became clearer. Reindeer—a whole herd
of them. What could it mean? Was this a
vision? Was she “seeing things,” or was it
possible that much higher hills lay over there
and that the reindeer were crossing them?</p>
<p>“Look,” she said to her cousin, pointing
away to the clouds.</p>
<p>Together, with bated breaths, they watched
the panorama that moved before them. Now
they saw the herders and their dogs, saw them
run this way and that; saw the herd change its
course, saw the herders again take up the steady
march.</p>
<p>“Why,” exclaimed Patsy, “Seems as if you
could hear the crack-crack of reindeer hoofs
and the bark of the dogs!”</p>
<p>“They must be miles away. It’s the Scarberry
herd,” said Marian.</p>
<p>“Look,” whispered Patsy, “the deer are
stopping.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_214">[214]</div>
<p>It was true. Having come to an abrupt halt,
as if facing an insurmountable barrier, the leaders
compelled those that followed to pack in a
solid mass behind them or to spread out to
right or left. In an incredibly short time they
stood out in a straight line, facing east.</p>
<p>“It—it must be a river, a river that is still
open, that cannot be crossed,” said Marian in
tones of tense excitement.</p>
<p>“And that means!” exclaimed Patsy.</p>
<p>“That our rival has been stopped. Nature
has brought them to a halt. We may win yet.
Let’s hurry. We may find a crossing-place in
the forest.”</p>
<p>“But look, look over there to the left!” cried
Patsy.</p>
<p>“What? Where?”</p>
<p>“Why, they’re gone!” exclaimed Patsy.
“There were three men. Indians, they looked
like. They seemed to be watching the Scarberry
herd from a hilltop some distance away.”</p>
<p>“But look!” cried Marian. “It’s gone!”</p>
<p>To their great astonishment, the herd had
vanished. As it had appeared to march out of
the clouds, so it seemed now to have receded
again into them.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_215">[215]</div>
<p>“Were we dreaming?” Patsy asked in an
awed whisper.</p>
<p>“No,” said Marian thoughtfully, “It was a
mirage, a mirage of the great white wilderness.
We have them here just as they do on the desert.
By the aid of this mirage, nature has
shown us a great secret; that we still have a
splendid chance to win the race. Let’s get down
to camp and be away.”</p>
<p>“But the three Indians?” questioned Patsy.
“What were they about to do?”</p>
<p>“Who knows?” said Marian. “We have
little to do with the Scarberry herd. Our task
is that of getting to Fort Jarvis.”</p>
<p>Two hours were consumed in reaching the
edge of the forest. After that, for hours they
passed through the wonder world of a northern
forest in winter. Deep and still, the snow lay
like a great white blanket. Black as ebonite
against this whiteness stood the fir and spruce
trees. There was something strangely solemn
about the place. The crack of reindeer’s hoofs,
the bark of dogs, all seemed strangely out of
place here. It was as though they stood on holy
ground.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_216">[216]</div>
<p>“It’s like a church,” Patsy said in an awed
voice.</p>
<p>“God’s great cathedral,” answered Marian.</p>
<p>Fortunately the trees were not too close together.
There was room for the deer to pass
between them. So, as before, the herd moved
forward in a fairly compact mass.</p>
<p>“Going to be easy,” was Patsy’s comment
after three hours had passed.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Marian shook her head in
doubt, “I hope so, but you know an Alaskan
who is used to barren hills and tundra, dreads
a forest. I belong to the tundra, so I dread
it, too.”</p>
<p>In spite of her fears, just at nightfall Marian
found herself passing from beneath the last
spruce tree and gazing away at rolling hills
beyond.</p>
<p>She was just offering up a little prayer of
thanksgiving, when some movement of the forward
herd leaders attracted her attention.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_217">[217]</div>
<p>“They’re stopping,” she said. “I wonder
why?”</p>
<p>Instantly the vision of the morning flashed
through her mind.</p>
<p>“The river!” she exclaimed in alarm. “If—if
we can’t cross it, we’ll have to camp at
the edge of the forest. And that is bad, very
bad. Animals that are cowards, and slink away
by day, become daring beasts of prey at night.”</p>
<p>A hurried race forward confirmed her worst
suspicions; there, at her feet was a river,
flanked on one side by willows and on the other
by a steep bank. It was not a broad stream—she
could throw a stone across it—but it did
flow swiftly. Its powerful current had thus far
defied the winter’s fiercest blasts. It was full
to the brim with milky water and crowding
cakes of ice. No creature could brave that
torrent, and live.</p>
<p>“Blocked!” she cried. “And just when I
was hoping for so much!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_218">[218]</div>
<p>Sinking down upon the snow, she gave herself
over for a moment to hopeless despair. The
next moment she was on her feet. With arms
outstretched toward the stars as if in appeal for
aid, she spoke through tight clenched teeth:</p>
<p>“We must! We will! We will win!”</p>
<p>As if in mockery of her high resolves, at
that moment there came to her ears the long-drawn
howl of a timber wolf.</p>
<p>The call of the wolf was answered by another,
and yet another. At the moment they seemed
some distance away, but Marian trembled at
the sound.</p>
<p>“A wolf travels fast,” she told herself as
she turned to hurry back to Patsy and her
faithful Eskimo.</p>
<p>“Listen!” she exclaimed, as she came near
to her companions. “Sounds like ten or twelve
of them howling at once. Terogloona, do wolves
travel in packs?”</p>
<p>“Mebby not,” the Eskimo shrugged his shoulders,
“but often they are many. Then they
call to one another. They come all to one place.
Then there’s trouble. There will be trouble to-night,
and we have no rifle. We—”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_219">[219]</div>
<p>He broke off abruptly to lean forward in a
listening attitude. “That is strange,” he murmured,
“They have found some prey back there
where they are, perhaps a caribou.”</p>
<p>As they stood at strained attention, it became
evident to all that the creature being pursued
was coming down the wind toward them. The
yap-yap of the wolves, now in full pursuit, grew
momentarily louder. At the beginning they had
seemed two miles away. Now they seemed but
one mile; a half mile. The girls fairly held
their breaths as they watched and waited.</p>
<p>And now it seemed that the wolves must be
all but upon them. Then, with a sudden cry,
Marian saw the great spreading antlers of old
Omnap-puk, the king of reindeer and caribou,
rise above the ridge.</p>
<p>“He’s not alone. There are others,” Patsy
breathed.</p>
<p>“Reindeer!” Marian murmured in astonishment.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_220">[220]</div>
<p>It was true. One by one at first, then by
fives and tens, a drove of deer, fifty or sixty in
number, appeared on the crest of the hill and
came plunging down toward Marian’s herd.</p>
<p>The old Monarch had never before joined
their herd, but this time, without a second’s
hesitation, he plunged straight on until he came
to the edge of the herd. Then, with a peculiar
whistled challenge, he wheeled about and with
antlers lowered for battle, pawed defiance at
the on-rushing band of wolves.</p>
<p>Then a strange and interesting drama began
to be enacted. There was a shifting and turning
of deer. Front ranks were quickly formed.
When the wolves, with lolling tongues and dripping
jaws reached the spot, they found themselves
facing a solid row of bayonet-like antlers.</p>
<p>Quick as they were to understand the situation,
and to rush away in a circle to execute a
rear attack, the deer, under the monarch’s leadership,
were quicker. Other lines were formed
until a complete circle of antlers confronted the
beasts of prey. The weaker and younger deer
were in the center.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_221">[221]</div>
<p>Then it was that the girls discovered for the
first time that they, too, were in the center;
that they were surrounded by the restless, snorting,
pawing herd of deer. In their interest at
watching the progress of events, they had not
been aware of the fact that the deer, in swinging
about, had encircled them.</p>
<p>That they were in peril, they knew all too
well. They read this in the look of concern on
Terogloona’s face.</p>
<p>“Circle hold, all right,” he said soberly. “Not
hold, bad! Deer afraid. Go mad. Want’a
trample down all; want’a get away fast. Mebby
knock down my master’s daughter, her friend,
Terogloona, Attatak; knock down all; mebby
trampled. Mebby die. Mebby wolf kill.”</p>
<p>There was apparently nothing to do but wait.
To the wolf pack new numbers appeared to be
added from time to time. The sound of their
yap-yapping came incessantly. The circle
swayed now to this side and now to that as some
frightened deer appeared ready to break away.
It was with the utmost difficulty that the girls
prevented themselves from being knocked down
and trampled under the sharp hoofs of the
surging deer.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_222">[222]</div>
<p>“What will it be like if the circle breaks and
they really stampede?” groaned Patsy. For
the first time in her Arctic experience she was
truly frightened.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” answered Marian. “We can
only trust. I wish we were out of this. I
wish—”</p>
<p>A sharp exclamation escaped Marian’s lips.
Over to the left a deer had gone down. The
wolves appeared to have cut the tendons to his
forelegs. There was terrible confusion. It
seemed that the day was lost, that the stampede
was at hand.</p>
<p>“Keep close to me,” Marian whispered
bravely. “Some way we will pull through.”</p>
<p>Patsy gripped her arm for the final struggle.
Then, to her astonishment, she heard the sound
of a shot, then another, and yet another.</p>
<p>“Someone to our rescue,” cried Marian.
“Who can it be?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_223">[223]</div>
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