Bones On Black Spruce Mountain (8 page)

"He took it wherever he went. It was always with him. It guarded him. Like our belt knives; we don't real-ly need them, but we feel safer when we've got them."

Daniel was so certain, so positive about his explanation, that Seth thought it must be true.

As so often happens with summer storms, the rain stopped and the clouds began to disperse. The boys knew enough not to hope the storm was over. It would begin again, but the lull gave Seth and Daniel a chance to try their escape.

The climb back up the cliff went quickly, and although the rocks were wet, neither boy slipped.

When the boys reached the top, they found the bare, stony summit covered with an inch of hailstones. They were melting rapidly, but the footing was hard and slippery. Seth and Daniel inched their way through the ice and soon were moving over soil and under trees. The sky was darkening again, getting ready to let down another torrent. And now, to add to their troubles, it was growing dark. In the excitement and terror of the afternoon the boys had not noticed the day slip away. It was well past suppertime, but eating was the farthest thing from their minds. All either boy could think about was getting back to camp. They wanted more than anything just now to be in the place that had become their home.

"Let's get out the map, Seth. We've got to find a short cut. It's almost dark."

According to the map if they could hold a bearing of east 10 degrees north they would be able to pass around the back side of Eagle Ledge and strike the first small beaver pond where they had been two days ago. It would be farther that way but much quicker, for there would be no climbing. The topographical rings on the map indicated fairly level going. They got their bearing and took off.

Because of the heavy clouds, dark came sooner than it would have under a clear sky. Soon it was too dark to read the compass.

"I can't see this thing anymore," Daniel said. "Get the flashlight."

Seth rummaged in the backpack. "It's not here."

"Oh, damn! I left it in the cave."

"What are we going to do? Why did you leave it!"

"Seth, I don't know. This is no time for an argument! We've got to get home. The only thing we can do is just feel our way along, I guess."

The instinct that had carried them correctly to Morey's sugarhouse that first day was useless now: it was dark, and they were in new country. Luck was all they had to go on.

The thunder began again, and the rain. Suddenly, not more than fifty feet in front of them a bolt of lightning struck a huge spruce tree and split it in half. A terrible clap of thunder followed immediately. The explosion was so deafening, the boys staggered back-ward at the noise. Again the intense white light flashed, and sparks danced the length of the tree; then the whole top of the tree burst into flame, tottered, and began to fall toward the boys.

They dove away from the falling fire. The tree shook the earth when it hit, sending a brilliant shower of orange sparks and fiery branches blowing through the woods.

When it was safe to look, the boys leapt up and began running through the woods. All reason was gone. Luck had deserted them and fear possessed them. They ran, panting, dripping wet; somewhere, anywhere. They were lost, and they ran.

"Daniel!"

Daniel wheeled. In another flash of light he saw Seth lying on his side, gripping his leg with both hands.

"I'm hurt. I fell. I cut my leg." Seth had tripped—a sharp rock. Now a deep gash oozed blood along his shin. Daniel felt in the darkness through Seth's torn pants. His fingers met the warm, thick blood.

"I think it's bad," Daniel said.

Daniel opened his pocket knife and cut Seth's pants from above the knee down to the cuff. He wrapped his bandana around the wound and tied it tight.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so."

Seth stood up.

"It hurts."

"Okay. Put your arm around my shoulder. I'll be your bad leg. Let's go."

"Where? We don't know where we are."

"I know. Let's start moving anyway. Maybe we'll luck out."

The accident had brought both boys back to their senses. Now that they were in real danger, their heads settled. They set out calmly, determined to find their way, one limping and leaning on the other.

Another flash of lightning lit up the woods and Daniel saw straight in front of him a small beaver pond, the beaver pond.

"We're okay, Seth. I know where we are."

Seth's teeth were clenched together. "Good" was all he said.

The two boys staggered downstream toward their camp. Seth was growing heavier and heavier. Daniel's back ached. Finally they were home.

For a moment Daniel imagined that the lost boy was waiting for them at the camp, that he had a fire going, supper hot and waiting, their sleeping bags rolled out, everything warm and cozy. Then Daniel saw the scene the way it really was. The camp stood dark and soaking in the night. It looked good anyway.

The boys hobbled into the lean-to and collapsed on the soft bed of hemlock boughs. Daniel lighted two candles. The glow filled and warmed the tiny wilder-ness room. It was almost like being in a kitchen on a cold winter night, the wood stove going, the air full of the smell of doughnuts and coffee.

"Get your clothes off," Daniel said. "I'll get the first-aid kit."

Daniel gently cleaned and dressed the wound.

"It's not as bad as I thought. Pretty deep, but it bled a lot, probably won't be too sore."

"Thanks, Daniel," Seth said, and as he said it, his hand reached out to touch Daniel, but before it could reach him it hesitated and then returned to Seth's side.

"It's okay. Let's get some sleep."

Both boys zipped themselves into their bags and lay listening to the now gentle rain whispering on the lean-

to roof.

Gradually Daniel became aware that Seth was crying, soft sobs welling up from somewhere deep inside him.

"What's the matter?"

"I want to go home!"
Chapter 8

Sometime during the middle of the night, Daniel didn't know exactly when, he woke. The storm was gone and what clouds remained raced across the sky under a full moon.

Daniel was wide awake and very hungry. He got up, went out back to the toilet, then returned and started a fire. He felt around in the refrigerator down at the brook and found one piece of bacon and two trout. There was still a little club bread left. He cooked supper.

"Seth . . . Seth." Daniel shook him gently. "How's your leg?"

"Huh?" Seth raised himself on an elbow. "Okay. It doesn't hurt."

"Want supper?"

"Now? What time is it?"

"I don't know. Two, three o'clock."

"Why not? I'm starved."

"It's all ready." Seth crawled out of the lean-to and stood up. "My leg feels pretty good. It's a little stiff. Probably I'll limp some, but it feels all right."

The boys ate in silence. Seth was sleepy; Daniel was thinking.

"We got any coffee?" Daniel asked. "I'm sick of tea."

Seth rummaged inside the lean-to. "We brought enough for one pot."

"Good. I'll mix some milk."

The panic of the day was gone. They sat staring at the fire, drinking hot coffee with milk. It was good to be back in camp, good to be safe.

"Well," Daniel said, "I admit it. The story is true, every bit of it, just the way they tell it. It didn't get mixed up at all."

"Yeah, it is. I was so anxious for it to be true; I don't know why, but now that I know it is true, I'm not glad."

Seth was silent for a moment, then he continued:

"Only they didn't know the whole story. Nobody ever mentioned the mound or the well. I think we were the first ones to find that place. I don't think Mr. Bateau's father was ever there. He must have only found the cave on the mountain. Maybe you're right, Daniel; maybe he did die that first winter; maybe he stole all that stuff the first fall."

"I don't think so. I've changed my mind. I think he survived, for a couple of years at least."

"But we can't prove that."

"Maybe we can," Daniel argued. "There's got to be something in all, that stuff we found that proves he lasted more than one year."

"That watercress we found," Seth said, "I bet he planted that, stole it and planted it."

"Maybe he did, but he could have done that the first fall."

"Yeah. The jars and clothes he could have gotten the first fall too, even though the story says different."

"That's right, but I just don't see how he could have done it all in one fall. He built that mound to live in, that was a big job, and he stoned up the well. He must have spent a lot of time going around stealing things. And if he learned to hunt with that spear, he must have spent weeks, maybe months, learning how to sneak up on game before he ever got anything. It all seems like too much to learn, too much to do, in a few months."

"I know it. I wonder where he learned it all."

"He taught himself," Daniel asserted. "He had to."

"I guess so. You know," Seth mused, "it's like he was building a whole new civilization up here."

"Only there was one thing missing."

"What?"

"Other people," Daniel said.

The boys fell silent, thinking, trying to find that one clue that would prove beyond doubt that the boy had lived in the mountains more than one fall. Seth got up, poured himself some more coffee, and began limping back and forth in front of the fire. Suddenly he turned toward Daniel and exclaimed, "The hoe!"

"What?"

"The hoe! What's the only thing you use a hoe for?"

"Hoeing."

"Hoeing what?"

A smile flashed across Daniel's face. "A garden! And he was too late the first year to have a garden. He could only have had a garden after the first winter up here."

"Ah, it's no good," Seth said. "He could have taken the hoe the first fall figuring he'd have a garden. Then he could have died before he had the chance."

"Maybe so," Daniel said, "but I'm ready to believe. Maybe we won't ever be able to prove he really did survive, but I think he did, at least I want to think he did."

"How come you've changed your mind all of a sudden?"

"I don't know. It's just a feeling, ever since I saw the bones. I know that boy."

Daniel stood up and began pacing back and forth in front of the fire. His hands gestured nervously in front of him.

"He ... he feels like my brother. When I close my eyes I can see him up here, moving around like a wild animal. I can imagine what he thought, how he felt."

"Okay, then," Seth asked, "if you know all about it, what killed him? If he didn't freeze or starve, what killed him?"

"Nothing. He wasn't killed; he died. And it's just like Mr. Bateau said, he died of loneliness."

"What?"

"Those bones were lying there just as if he'd died in his sleep. They weren't messed up or broken or anything: they were just lying there, all stretched out. One night he just gave up and died."

"I don't get it."

"Don't you see, Seth? The boy was an orphan."

Daniel's voice began to tremble. "He probably never even knew who his parents were. He knocked around from here to there; he never really had a home. Then he got hooked up with that guy in Hardwick who beat him all the time. You can only stand so much of that."

As Daniel talked, he could feel himself slipping farther and farther back into his own past.

"You can only live so long without anybody to love you, and then something snaps, you get a little crazy or something. You get so you can't trust anybody, even though you want to. After that happens, even though you want to trust people and you want people to trust you, even though you want that more than anything in the world, you can't. I think that's what happened to the boy. It got too late for him. That's why he ran away. And that's why he never came down off the mountain. He couldn't. He wanted to, but he couldn't. He was just too afraid of other people."

"You mean he went crazy, just like Mr. Bateau said."

Daniel sat down abruptly and sighed a frustrated sigh. He let his chin droop into his chest and he stared at the darkened ground between his feet.

"Sure he went crazy, if that's what you want to call it."

Then suddenly Daniel stood up and threw his arms out toward Seth.

"But he couldn't help it! Can't you see! He didn't want to be up here. But it was the only thing left. He hated living up here. He was lonely and afraid!"

Daniel started to pace back and forth in front of the fire again.

"Look, most kids would think it takes a lot for a boy to live alone like an animal on a mountain. It does. . . . It does, but it didn't take half as much courage as it would have for him to come down. You see? Coming down would have meant trusting some-one. And he couldn't. He just couldn't do that. So he lived up here until he couldn't stand it anymore and then he just gave up and died. He was trapped. He was too afraid to come down and too lonely to live."