Page:St. Nicholas (serial) (IA stnicholasserial321dodg).pdf/579

1905.] curiosity. Swedie laughed aloud and slapped the reins over Viking’s back. But all of a sudden the dog slowed his gait and then stood stock-still, whining a little.

“What is it, Viking?” Swedie called sharply. “Mush, mush on there.”

But the dog refused to move, and Swedie, who for some time had noticed that the sled had traveled over a very uneven road, threw off the shawl and sprang into the snow, going quickly to the left where, on the river trail, the police had placed fir-trees to mark the way. He could not find one of them, and he hurried back to the sled, lighting the lantern with numb fingers. It was as he feared. They were off the road. In the light this would not have been a great matter, for he might have seen the line of trees from either bank of the river. But in the dark it was more serious, and for a long time the boy stumbled about in the deep snow, the storm blinding his eyes and the cold numbing his fingers and feet. Indeed, there was scarcely any feeling in his feet at all, though Swedie did not notice it, being so busy with other thoughts. At last, with a cry of joy, he fell into a snow-laden tree. Recovering himself, he led Viking from the open, and they were soon on their way again. It was getting colder now, and Swedie was growing anxious. He had been nearly two hours on the way, and a quarter of that time had been wasted looking for the road. He slapped his hands together to keep them from freezing, and got out every five minutes to run beside the sled to cheer and to help Viking. Far back on the hills, to the right, he could hear an ominous wailing sound, and he knew that his dog was shaking with fear. Only love for his master kept him from turning and running back to town, for, though Viking held the Malemutes in contempt, he was afraid of the gaunt, long-teethed wolves with their fiery eyes—afraid for himself and for Swedie.

On and on they went. It grew colder all the time, and the snow ceased falling, All about was dark and still. “Even in the river,” thought Swedie, “it cannot be darker or more quiet.”

His hands were getting very numb. He ran with all his might and beat his arms across his chest. Surely he would reach the peninsula soon.

Hark! He shouted to Viking to stop, and stood listening intently, A dull roaring came to his ears, and then, sharply, distinctly, a loud report as though some one were shooting a hundred yards away. Sweetly, serenely, as though lazily gracious, the moon suddenly sailed from under a great bank of clouds, and Swedie caught his breath in horror.

A stone’s throw from him the river was open wide, and a great mouth yawned, all the blacker for the intense whiteness around, the water humping itself up like a monstrous tongue in the opening, while behind Swedie the ice had broken again, and there was another great blot of black amid the snow.

Shouting to the dog, the lad turned him swiftly to the shore where the peninsula jutted out, almost dividing the river. With a loud bark, the brute sprang in great leaps, dragging the sled with his master upon it. Too late! They could not get to the shore. Again the rumbling and the sharp report, and the ice on which they traveled with the fir-trees marking the road had broken away from the shore ice, and a black ribbon, ever growing wider, was between them and the land.

Another sound above the noise of the water—a far-away, cheery singing. Again Swedie listened, and his heart beat madly in his little bosom. It was his father on his way home singing one of the old Norse folk-songs that his mother had loved. Slowly, serenely, as she had sailed from beneath them, the moon vanished under the clouds and the world was black again.

With trembling hands Swedie took out his knife and cut the harness from his dog. He hugged the great brute once, swiftly, passionately, then stood up and spoke cheerily, firmly: “Go to father, Viking, go to father,’ and pushed him toward the shore, trusting that the lovingly wise animal would find some way to lead his father to safety.

In a second the dog was off. He too had heard the singing and knew what was required of him. He leaped the ten feet across the black ribbon of water and hastened around the peninsula on the land trail.

Swedie stood alone on his island of moving ice, looking in the direction whence came the singing, that grew louder every moment and more distinct. Now his father must be