When the Sergeant was fairly off, Hobson and Mac-Nab walked together towards the end of the passage.
Meanwhile Rae had been watching the bears and the loft. It was so dark that all hoped Long’s movements would escape the notice of the hungry animals.
Ten minutes elapsed, and the three watchers went back to the narrow space between the two doors, waiting for the signal to be given to drag in the sledge.
Five minutes more. The cord remained motionless in their hands! Their anxiety can be imagined. It was a quarter of an hour since the Sergeant had started, plenty of time for all he had to do, and he had given no signal.
Hobson waited a few minutes longer, and then tightening his hold of the end of the rope, he made a sign to his companions to pull with him. If the load of wood were not quite ready, the Sergeant could easily stop it from being dragged away.
The rope was pulled vigorously. A heavy object seemed to slide along the snow. In a few moments it reached the outer door.
It was the body of the Sergeant, with the rope round his waist. Poor Long had never reached the shed. He had fallen fainting to the ground, and after twenty minutes’ exposure to such a temperature there was little hope that he would revive.
A cry of grief and despair burst from the lips of Mac-Nab and Rae. They lifted their unhappy comrade from the ground, and carried him into the passage; but as the Lieutenant was closing the outer door, something pushed violently against it, and a horrible growl was heard.
“Help!” cried Hobson.
Mac-Nab and Rae rushed to their officer’s assistance; but Mrs. Barnett had been beforehand with them and was struggling with all her strength to help Hobson to close the door. In vain; the monstrous brute, throwing the whole weight of its body against it, would force its way into the passage in another moment.
Mrs. Barnett, whose presence of mind did not forsake her now, seized one of the pistols in the Lieutenant’s belt, and waiting quietly until the animal shoved its head between the door and the wall, discharged the contents into its open mouth.
The bear fell backwards, mortally wounded no doubt, and the door was shut and securely fastened.
The body of the Sergeant was then carried into the large room. But, alas! the fire was dying out. How was it possible to restore the vital heat with no means of obtaining warmth?
“I will go—I will go and fetch some wood!” cried the blacksmith Rae.
“Yes, Rae, we will go together!” exclaimed Mrs. Barnett, whose courage was unabated.
“No, my friends, no!” cried Hobson; “you would fall victims to the cold, or the bears, or both. Let us burn all there is to burn in the house, and leave the rest to God!”
And the poor half-frozen settlers rose and laid about them with their hatchets like madmen. Benches, tables, and partition walls were thrown down, broken up, crushed to pieces, and piled up in the stove of the large room and kitchen furnace. Very soon good fires were burning, on which a few drops of walrus-oil were poured, so that the temperature of the rooms quickly rose a dozen degrees.
Every effort was made to restore the Sergeant. He was rubbed with warm rum, and gradually the circulation of his blood was restored. The white blotches with which parts of his body were covered began to disappear; but he had suffered dreadfully, and several hours elapsed before he could articulate a word. He was laid in a warm bed, and Mrs. Barnett and Madge watched by him until the next morning.
Meanwhile Hobson, Mac-Nab, and Rae consulted how best to escape from their terrible situation. It was impossible to shut their eyes to the fact that in two days this fresh supply of fuel would be exhausted, and then, if the cold continued, what would become of them all? The new moon had risen forty-eight hours ago, and there was no sign of a change in the weather! The north wind still swept the face of the country with its icy breath; the barometer remained at “fine dry weather;” and there was not a vapour to be seen above the endless succession of ice fields. There was reason to fear that the intense cold would last a long time yet, but what was to be done? Would it do to try once more to get to the woodshed, when the bears had been roused by the shot, and rendered doubly dangerous? Would it be possible to attack these dreadful creatures in the open air? No, it would be madness, and certain death for all!
Fortunately the temperature of the rooms had now become more bearable, and in the morning Mrs. Joliffe served up a breakfast of hot meat and tea. Hot grog was served out, and the brave Sergeant was able to take his share. The heat from the stoves warmed the bodies and reanimated the drooping courage of the poor colonists, who were now ready to attack the bears at a word from Hobson. But the Lieutenant, thinking the forces unequally matched, would not risk the attempt; and it appeared likely that the day would pass without any incident worthy of note, when at about three o’clock in the afternoon a great noise was heard on the top of the house.
“There they are!” cried two or three soldiers, hastily arming themselves with hatchets and pistols.
It was evident that the bears had torn away one of the rafters of the roof, and got into the loft.
“Let everyone remain where he is!” cried the Lieutenant. “Rae, the trap!”
The blacksmith rushed into the
