Near by, to the south, a curl of smoke rose above the forest green, and this he knew to be the tilt. Eastward from the tilt splotches of water could be discerned, where the little river ran down to join Seal Lake.
Andy was used to wild nature, but this provided an element of romance new to him. Here at his feet, in all its silent and magnificent grandeur, stretched the great primordial wilderness which had been the scene of his father’s exploits. This, too, was the scene of strange, weird tales of stirring adventures to which he had listened so often. Here men had fought wild beasts. Here men had starved, and here had been enacted heroic deeds, the narrative of which never failed to thrill him. Was he destined to take part in like adventures, and like deeds of heroism?
He was awed by the immensity of the solitudes. A lump came into his throat and tears into his eyes, as he looked away over the vast silence to the horizon. This was God’s land, just as God had made it. No man lived here, or had ever lived here. There was no human habitation within the limitless boundaries of these rolling miles of forest and mountain, save the little tilt from which the curl of smoke was rising, and no other human beings than himself and David and Indian Jake.
Then there came upon Andy a realization of his own smallness and insignificance, and a wave of fear swept over his heart. Here in this boundless wilderness he was to face the rigors of a long, sub-arctic winter, with all its privations and hardships, cut off from all communication with the greater world outside. For many, many months he would have no word from his father or Margaret or Jamie or Doctor Joe, or know how they fared, or whether the mist in Jamie’s eyes was thickening or no. It was not strange then if Andy experienced a sudden longing for home and a touch of homesickness.
But Andy was brave and full of courage, and presently throwing back his head, he laughed, to drive away the fear and the loneliness.
“Huh!” he said, “there’s nothin’ to be scared of. Pop says th’ Lard’ll take care of us, and we does our best t’ take care of ourselves. There’s fur here, and Davy and I must get un, t’ cure Jamie’s eyes, and we _will_ get un, _what_ever. I’ll have plenty o’ grit, and a stout heart like a man’s, and ’twon’t be so long when we goes home again.”