



Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan,
Matthew Wheaton and the Online Distributed Proofreading
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    THE WILDERNESS CASTAWAYS

    [Illustration: He waited, his axe grasped in both hands
      [_Page 272_]]




    THE WILDERNESS CASTAWAYS

    BY DILLON WALLACE

    AUTHOR OF
    "THE LURE OF THE LABRADOR WILD," "THE LONG
    LABRADOR TRAIL," "BEYOND THE
    MEXICAN SIERRAS," ETC


    ILLUSTRATED BY
    HENRY S. WATSON


    CHICAGO
    A. C. McCLURG & CO.
    1936


    COPYRIGHT A. C. MCCLURG & CO.
    1913

    Copyrighted in Great Britain




    CONTENTS


    CHAPTER                                       PAGE

        I GETTING ACQUAINTED                         1
       II THE FIRST BEAR                            23
      III A HUSKY CAMP                              34
       IV THE WILDERNESS PRIMEVAL                   49
        V WRECKED                                   64
       VI THE CASTAWAYS ABANDONED                   86
      VII ADRIFT ON AN ICE PAN                      95
     VIII FACING STARVATION                        111
       IX THE WATERS CLEAR                         124
        X A NARROW ESCAPE                          140
       XI A DEATH STRUGGLE                         151
      XII FACTOR MACTAVISH OF FORT RELIANCE        163
     XIII WINTER SHELTER AND HARD WORK             184
      XIV A LONELY CHRISTMAS                       194
       XV THE TRAPPER FROM INDIAN LAKE             209
      XVI RELEASED FROM BONDAGE                    219
     XVII THE SNOWSHOE JOURNEY TO INDIAN LAKE      231
    XVIII STALKED BY WOLVES                        252
      XIX ON THE FUR TRAILS                        270
       XX WINNIPEG AT LAST                         285
      XXI BAD NEWS AND GOOD                        295
     XXII HOW PAUL AND DAN MADE GOOD               306




    ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                                PAGE

    He waited, his axe grasped in both hands          _Frontispiece_
    "Keep un nerve," soothed Dan                                  84
    Dan struck up a tune                                         116
    Fired several more shots after the retreating birds          136
    He could feel its sharp claws tearing his flesh              162
    The Eskimos were watching them curiously from the beach      174
    "You're a big coward"                                        180
    The boys were startled. They had heard no one approach       208
    The three put their heads together                           286




THE WILDERNESS CASTAWAYS




CHAPTER I

GETTING ACQUAINTED


"Dan Rudd," roared Captain Zachariah Bluntt, "if I has to tell you
again to keep that mouth organ below decks, I'll wring your neck! Yes,
wring your neck! By the imps of the sea, I will!"

"Aye, aye, sir," answered Dan Rudd, a robust, sunny-faced sailor lad
of sixteen, quickly slipping the offending harmonica, upon which he
had been playing a lively air, into his pocket.

Captain Bluntt, impatiently pacing the deck, was plainly in ill humor.
His great red beard, standing out like a lion's mane, bristled
ominously, and his shaggy eyebrows were drawn down in an unpleasant
scowl.

It was two o'clock on a mid-July afternoon, the last case of
provisions had been lowered into the hold, the last lighter-load of
coal stowed into the bunkers, steam was up, and the staunch little
Newfoundland steamer _North Star_, riding at anchor in Sydney harbor,
had been ready to sail for three hours, and for three hours Captain
Bluntt had been impatiently awaiting orders to get under way.

Two clean-cut, smooth-shaven, alert young men of thirty or thereabouts
were standing at the port rail aft. Their sun-tanned faces marked them
as men accustomed to out-of-door life, and their sinewy, muscular
frames and keen but good-humored eyes proclaimed health and genial
dispositions. They were intently, and with visible impatience,
watching a wharf from which a boat was putting off. As the little
craft shot out into the open one of them raised a pair of binoculars
to his eyes, studied it for a moment, and announced:

"There he is at last! Here, take a look through the glass, Ainsworth,"
and he passed the binoculars to his friend.

"Yes, that's he," said Ainsworth, after a moment's observation, "and,
Remington, he's sitting back smoking a cigarette as unconcernedly as
if he hadn't kept us waiting half a day for him."

"I'll tell the skipper, and ease his mind," suggested Remington, and
striding forward he called out cheerily:

"All right, Captain Bluntt, Master Densmore is coming. You may put out
as soon as you please when he's aboard."

"Very vexing! Very vexing, Mr. Remington!" exclaimed Captain Bluntt.
"Fair wind, fair tide, and losing advantage of it, sir! All right,
sir, all right. We'll weigh anchor at once, sir."

In a moment sailors were working at the windlass, anchor chains were
clanking, and the men singing in rhythmic unison as they swung up and
down at the crank handles. Then the engines began to pulsate.

The _North Star_ had been chartered by the two young men--George
Remington and Henry Ainsworth--for a summer's voyage to Hudson Bay.
Both were enthusiastic sportsmen, and Remington, who had once before
visited the region, had promised Ainsworth some exciting polar bear
and walrus hunting, as well as excellent sport fishing the coastal
streams for salmon and trout.

Paul Densmore, the only son of John Densmore, a multimillionaire ship
owner and a friend of Remington's, had been invited by Remington to
accompany them as his guest. When Remington and Ainsworth went aboard
the _North Star_ upon the morning our story begins, Paul had remained
ashore in Sydney to make some purchases in the town, promising to
follow them within the hour. Captain Bluntt had been instructed to
make ready for departure accordingly. But Paul had failed to keep his
promise, and with hours of idle waiting for the appearance of the
delinquent youth Captain Bluntt had worked himself into the high state
of ill humor in which we find him.

"The Captain was just at the point of blowing up," laughed Remington
when he rejoined Ainsworth, "but he'll be all right presently. He's a
very impatient old fellow."

"He's had good reason to be impatient," said Ainsworth. "I can safely
prophesy more breakers ahead. Judging from the little I've seen of
that boy, Remington, you'll be heartily sorry you brought him before
we get back to New York."

"I'm heartily sorry already," admitted Remington, "but I couldn't help
it. Densmore is one of the best fellows in the world. He pulled me out
of a tight place once when I was caught in the market, and when he
asked me the other day if it would be an imposition upon friendship if
he asked me to invite Paul, there was nothing to do but invite the
youngster to come."

"Oh, don't think for a moment I'm finding fault with you, old man,"
Ainsworth hastened to explain. "I see your position, and I'd have done
the same under the circumstances, but it's a pity nevertheless that we
have to put up with him."

"Yes, it is a pity," agreed Remington. "That boy has no sense of
responsibility. Never keeps an appointment or a promise.
I never saw any one quite so lacking in consideration of
others--selfish--selfish--that's the word."

"Why did his father ever let him grow into such a cad, anyway? What he
needs is a good sound thrashing every day for a month. That would cure
him."

"Fact is, I don't think Densmore ever knew much about him until
recently. Too many irons in the fire to give much thought to his
family. This steamship company's his pet scheme just now, but he's the
head of half a dozen other big things, and even when he's home his
mind is all taken up with business. He left the boy's training to the
mother, and it's the old story of an only child. She's coddled and
indulged and pampered him till she's spoiled him. He failed in the
final tests at school this year--he attends a select boys' school
uptown somewhere--and the head master wrote Densmore that there was no
use sending him back unless he took more interest in the work, adding
something to the effect that he seemed strangely void of ambition,
never obeyed rules unless convenient, and was a disturbing element in
the school. I think that brought Densmore to his senses about his
son's condition."

"And he shoved the boy off on us for the summer," said Ainsworth
ill-naturedly.

"Oh, no, not for the purpose of getting rid of him," Remington
hastened to explain. "Densmore's all right. He wouldn't intentionally
cause us inconvenience. He had two reasons for asking me to bring him.
He learned Paul was addicted to cigarettes, and he wanted to get him
away somewhere where cigarettes aren't to be had. He thought, too,
that good, wholesome exercise in the open, and a complete change of
environment, might give him a new view of life and awaken his
ambition. The boy's mother has never permitted him to take part in
what she calls rough games--baseball, football and real boys'
sports--and she'd never let him go camping with other fellows, though
he's begged to go. Afraid he'd get hurt. It took a lot of argument on
Densmore's part to get her permission to let him come with us."

"One of those young hopefuls, isn't he, that thinks his father is rich
and there's no use of his ever doing anything but spend money?"
suggested Ainsworth. "From the little I've seen of him, he'll spend
it, all right, too."

At that moment the boat hove alongside, and a tall, sallow-faced lad,
perhaps seventeen years of age, a cigarette hanging at the corner of
his mouth, tossed a bill to the boatman, languidly rose to his feet,
caught the rope ladder lying over the ship's side, and with difficulty
climbed to the deck.

"Glad to see you, Paul," greeted Remington. "We were getting a bit
worried about you. You're late."

"Oh, I didn't think there was any rush," said Paul indifferently.
"Stopped for luncheon at the hotel. Horrible stuff they serve there.
It really isn't fit to eat."

"I'm afraid your appetite isn't very good, Paul," suggested Remington.
"Wait till you get your lungs full of salt air, and rough it a bit;
you'll think anything is good then."

"Oh, I don't know," Paul remarked indifferently, as he lounged back
upon a chair, drew a fresh cigarette from a silver case, lighted it,
flicked some ashes from his white flannel trousers and casually
surveyed the deck. "What a rum old ship this is!" he continued. "I
thought we were going to have a comfortable yacht."

"The _North Star_ isn't much to look at," admitted Remington, "but
she's the best sort of a ship for our trip. No ordinary yacht would
do. We're going to rough it good and plenty, you know."

"That so? What kind of roughing it?"

"Hunting, fishing, camping, and that sort of thing. I hope we'll have
some good bear hunting before we get back."

"Bear hunting!" Paul was interested at once. "What kind of bears shall
we run across? Grizzlies?"

"No," laughed Remington, "Polar bears."

"Polar bear hunting! Cricky, but that'll be great!" Paul sat up
excitedly. "Where're we going, Mr. Remington? I didn't pay much
attention to what Father said about it. I thought it was just an
ordinary yachting trip."

"You didn't seem to have much interest in it, coming over on the
train," said Remington, and as he explained the region, the
prospective hunting and fishing, and the adventure, Paul forgot his
cigarette.

"That's just the kind of trip I've wanted to take all my life," he
exclaimed. "May I shoot too?"

"Yes, I've a rifle and a shotgun among my things for you."

"May I see them? I've always been just crazy for a gun!"

"Wait a moment."

Remington went below and presently returned with a modern high-power
rifle and a beautiful double-barreled shotgun. Paul's eyes sparkled
with delight and he listened with close attention while Remington
explained their manipulation, with due caution as to their handling.
Then he exclaimed:

"Good old Dad! He is a good scout to let me come with you! Ever so
many thanks, Mr. Remington. Where are the cartridges?"

"They're with mine. I'll get them for you when you need them. You may
as well take the guns down to your stateroom, though, when you go."

"I guess I'll go now, and unpack my things."

"Very well. The steward will show you your room. You'll find
everything there. Abner," turning to a bareheaded young sailor clad in
blue flannel shirt, with sleeves rolled up, and trousers tucked into
the tops of high sealskin boots, who was standing near the
companionway, "this is Master Densmore. Will you show him to his room?
Abner is the steward, Paul."

"Yes, sir; this way, sir," answered Abner, respectfully.

"He seems interested," remarked Ainsworth when Paul had gone below.
"I'm inclined to think he's a pretty good fellow at heart after all.
Just spoiled."

"That's so," agreed Remington.

A moment later Paul reappeared from the companionway, and asked:

"Where are my trunks, Mr. Remington? The steward took me to a room he
insists is mine, but my trunks aren't there; just some canvas bags.
Guess he's trying to put me in the wrong room."

"I left your trunks ashore, Paul."

"Ashore! Why, all my things are in them! I can't go without them! I've
no clothes with me!"

"The canvas bags contain all the clothes you'll need. Look through
them and see what you think of the outfit. Your father selected them."

"But my cigarettes! I packed them in one of the trunks!"

"I'm afraid you'll have to do without them. You'll find you can shoot
straighter if you don't smoke. Cigarettes knock a fellow's nerves all
out, you know."

"This is rum!" exclaimed the angry lad. "No cigarettes! Well, I'll go
down and see the stuff."

"You'd better put on one of the warm suits you'll find in your bags,
Paul," suggested Remington. "We're getting out to sea, and it'll be
chilly on deck."

Paul vouchsafed no reply, but he profited by the advice, and donned a
complete new outfit of clothing suited to his surroundings.

"Look like a <DW55> laborer, don't I?" he asked Remington, whom he met
at his stateroom door half an hour later.

"You look comfortably dressed," was the reply. "You see I've adopted
similar clothes."

"You do look funny," laughed Paul, "and that's the way I feel. Mother
_would_ have a fit if she saw me now," glancing down at his flannel
shirt and heavy trousers and shoes. "Mr. Remington," he continued,
hesitatingly, "I--I want to apologize for what I said about the trunks
and cigarettes. I can get on without cigarettes if they'd spoil my
shooting."

"That's all right, Paul. They certainly would spoil your shooting."

Captain Bluntt was in excellent humor when he took his place at the
head of the supper table.

"So you're the young rascal," he said to Paul, "who kept us waiting at
Sydney."

"Oh, I guess there wasn't any great rush," answered Paul, somewhat
nettled. "We're on a pleasure trip, and not trying to break a
record."

Captain Bluntt looked at him curiously for a moment under his shaggy
eyebrows.

"Not much of a sailor, I guess, youngster. Well, you'll learn
something before you gets home. Got a wonderful lot to learn, too."

Paul flushed angrily, and retorted impudently and boastfully:

"Oh, I don't know. This isn't my first yachting trip. I know a thing
or two about sailing. Captains of yachts don't usually tell the guests
what they're to do."

"Yacht, eh?" And Captain Bluntt laughed good-naturedly. "Well, well,
don't get grumpy. No offence meant. No doubt you're a great sailor;
you look it. Yes, you look it!" Turning from Paul as from a child
whose presence he had quite forgotten, he remarked:

"She's off in fine style, Mr. Remington, fine style! And we'll make a
rare fine run, sir, if the weather holds. Yes, sir, if the weather
holds!"

"Is there much ice reported off the Labrador coast?"

"We'll meet some ice, sir; bay ice. No trouble with that, sir. Plenty
of bergs! Wonderful crop of bergs, sir!"

They had finished eating, and Captain Bluntt was striking a match to
light one of Remington's cigars which he had accepted, when strains of
music floated down to them. He paused with lighted match in mid air,
an ear cocked to one side, his red beard bristling.

"By the imps of the sea!" he blurted. "There's that Dan Rudd with his
mouth organ, and I _told_ him to keep un below! The rascal! Wring his
neck! Yes, sir, I'll wring his neck!" and he sprang up as though bent
upon carrying