Then the twinkle began to come, and they laughed.
One more adventure, and that a serious one, was to befall the boys as a final taste of life in the wilderness. One day towards the end of Winter, when the sky cleared after several days of tremendous rain, the three boys who had been cooped up in their quarters and had worn out even the amusement of listening to the Edmonton radio concerts or communicating with the Post of the Mounted, announced they were going hunting.
The supply of fresh meat had fallen pretty low, and additions to their larder would not be unwelcome. Accordingly, Mr. Hampton made no objection to their departure, but insisted that Art or Long Jim accompany them.
“I’d be no good,” said Long Jim. “Sence I did that fool trick o’ cuttin’ my hand with the axe a couple-three days ago, I cain’t set finger to trigger. You better go, Art.”
“All right, boys,” said Art. “I’d like to stretch a leg, too.”
The four, accordingly, set out. In the forest surrounding the spot where they had chosen to erect their huts, there was no longer any game, for the animals had come to learn that these strange creatures brought destruction and had decamped elsewhere. Finally, after they had proceeded some distance without sighting anything, Art suggested they strike for a higher level on the adjacent mountain side. The huts had been erected near the foot of one of the ranges rimming the valley.
“Maybe we’ll run into a mountain sheep or a goat,” he said. “Anyhow, we can see better from a higher lever, for this forest down here is so thick you can hardly see a yard away. The moon’s out an’ up there the trees is thinner.”
With Art leading the way, the party began its upward climb. For some time they toiled upward until presently they reached a level unaffected by the more temperate air of the valley floor, and where, as a consequence, snow covered the rocks. Across a bare shoulder of rock from which the wind had swept all but a trace of snow they made their way and then plunged into a thick woods beyond.
Frank, who was in the rear, laid down his rifle and bent over to adjust the clumsy lacing of a thick shoe pack of the kind they had made for themselves from the skins of slain animals. The others plodding along, head down, did not notice he had stopped, and kept on going. He spent more time at the task than he had anticipated, and when finally he straightened up and picked up his rifle, they were not in sight.