PAGE 4
Sally’s "Turns"
by
Many men would face an aeroplane flight with a sinking sensation. Many would have to acknowledge some qualms on a start with “mere dogs” in a blizzard like this one. But Sally, unemotional as a statue and serene as a judge, knew his pilot too well to worry, and, stretched out full length on the sledge, occupied himself with combating the snow in between “spells” of hauling the komatik out of hopeless snowbanks. “It won’t do to pass the Featherbed without making sure them’s not there,” thought Sally. “If Ky had any wits about him, he’d never try the Hanging Marshes a night like this.” So when at last the team actually divided round the leading mark-pole, Surefoot having rubbed his side on it, so straight had he travelled even in that inferno, Sally leaped off immediately, and, following the line of poles, was cheered to see sparks issuing from the snug tilt among the trees. But alas, there was only one man, old Uncle John, resting there safely when Sally came tumbling in. The cheerful wood fire, the contrast of the warmth and quiet with the howling and darkness of the storm outside, called loudly to every physical faculty to stay for the night.
“Where be them gone?” queried Sally as soon as the old man had roused himself enough to understand the sudden interruption. “Where’s Ky and Patsy? I thought you was all together by t’ tracks.”
“So we was, so we was, boy. But them’s gone on, while I thought I’d bide till daylight.”
The loud wail of the dogs in chorus, as they chafed at being left out of sight or knowledge of their master’s whereabouts, was plainly audible to both men, and suggested the cruel bleakness of the night outside.
“Youse isn’t going on to look for ’em, is you? There be no chance of doing nothing a night like this,” added the old man.
But Sally was in another world. He could see the two men adrift and trying to keep life in themselves on the White Hills just as plainly as the cry made him see his beloved dogs calling to him from the exposed trail outside.
“There’ll be nothing left anyhow to do by morning, Uncle John,” he answered. “Look after yourself well and keep t’ fire in; maybe I’ll be back sooner than us expects. Goodnight to you.” And Sally disappeared once more into the night.
They were still alive when Surefoot found them, though far more played out than one would suppose strong men could be in so short a time. The extra wraps were at once requisitioned, a ration from the spirit flask was rapidly given to each, and then, forcing them to sit down on the sledge, Sally again encouraged Surefoot to take the trail. Downhill, they managed to move along, but the heavy thatch of snow made progress difficult on the level and almost impossible uphill, just when exhaustion made marching impracticable even with a line from the sledge lashed to their arms. Sally found his last device unavailable. The men must get off for the uphill work, and that is what it became increasingly impossible for them to do.
Apparently Ky was the worse off. He didn’t seem to know what was going on. Sally noticed that his hat had gone and thought his head was freezing, so without hesitation he covered it with his own warm nor’wester. Ky lay mostly on the komatik now, and it took all Sally’s strength and such little aid as Patsy could give to enable the dogs to haul up the Frenchman’s Leap, usually nearly perpendicular, but now fortunately sloped off by the heavy drift. Each man had to take a trace ahead and haul exactly like two big dogs, thus strengthening the team. At last the komatik topped the brow and was once more coming along after them. But Patsy was so played out that Sally drove him back to the sledge, hoping that the dogs could now haul the two men again. To his horror on reaching the komatik he found the real cause of its running so much more easily. Ky was gone. Probably he had only just slipped off. He would go back and look for him. But then he would lose the dogs. Patsy was too lost to the world to understand anything or to help. If he went back alone the dogs might follow and he would lose Patsy as well. Still he must try it. Halting the dogs he turned the komatik over, driving the upturned nose of the runners deep into the snow; then he laid Patsy on the top, and, lashing him on, finally began groping back down the steep rise for the missing man.