Arizona Blue"Gunfighter The Wolves Nest"in the North Southward Bound [Chapter Four of Seven] On our way through the thickness of the woods, they followed Feba's memory on how to get to the next cabin about five-miles away. It was on the way to the city of Pigs Eye [St. Paul]. Her legs were getting cold, but the movement kept her from freezing. And Arizona was starting to lose his lung capacity. It was colder than the night before. It was about 2:00 PM when they got to the McKinley's cabin, it was by a big lake, but then to Blue, all there was in this land were lakes. As they looked beyond the wooded area, they noticed in the distance the cabin was on fire. They looked at each other. Then stayed hidden, looking for the Indians. But none came out. Said Arizona, bigheartedly, "It will be better we stay here I'm afraid to say, because we can start a fire, and the Indians will think it is from that cabin, plus I can get some of the burnt firewood and see if there are any furs left about. Maybe some hidden frozen meat out by the fur house," which was sill standing for some odd reason behind the burning cabin. After the Indians experience with the wolves at Feba's place I do not think they'd want to repeat the event, and possibly just leave it alone. Feba exhausted, leaned against a tree, as her back slid down its rough bark she was half sleeping. Her body fell into the nest of leaves under the tree. There was no snow there. And as Blue looked about, he thought it would be a good place to camp. He left her there as he went to the cabin to see what he could collect. As he approached, the cabin it was already on the ground burnt completely down, to cinders, smoke and ash: it was just residue all about; bodies where charcoaled in the ruins. He walked to the back of it, opened the door to the slaughterhouse, and there was no wolves alive in it. But there were about twenty-furs. Two bear skins, three or four wolves skins, and the rest were fox, and beaver. A horse was standing about forty-feet behind the house with a rope around its neck, as if someone had tried it to a fence. But no body was found, and the fence was nonexistent now. Blue took the two bear furs, and the wolf ones, the horse, tying the furs together with a rope he found nearby in the ashes, and threw them over the back of the horse. Then he looked about for food. He went to where the kitchen would have been, had the house not burnet down, and noticed a wooden door in the ground, he opened it, and it was full of meat. He grabbed several pounds of it. It was wrapped up in paper. He took one of the furs and used it as a holder for the meat, and swung it over the horse. Then he picked up two pieces of wood, still with the ambers of fire in them, and headed back to Feba. She was sleeping now, when he arrived back. Blue quickly kicked her in the foot, "Wake up!" you can't sleep like that in the cold, your body will drift off, and you'll die." She didn't care it seemed, but her eyes opened nonetheless, and she stayed alive for the moment out of respect for Blue. He then built a fire, spreading the leaves out, ran back to the house to get some more fire wood. Finally he took the two bear skins and built a shelter out of them, along side of the fire, and put the other furs over Feba, her bones were starting to unthaw. About three hours thereafter, Blue noticed it was getting dark already; as he examined her face, color was coming back within it. And then Blue leaned back against the big spruce tree Feba was leaning against. And there they slept in the wild of the frozen North, fire burning, and meat cooking on a stick hanging from a tree branch tied to a rope. And night cast it shadow over the trees which cast a shadow onto the snow, and the full moon came out. Blue's eyes opened automatically every ten or fifteen minutes to see if the moon would show any shadows. He felt there were Indians about but he was too tired to get up and search the area: too frozen, and weak, plus, he would be no danger to them, no great battle, so he figured if they wanted him, they could have him any time really. If they wanted to fight like this, so be it, it would be a cowards way. And they were brave if anything. This would not be a brave person's style. Even Arizona-Blue, the great gunfighter would not take that much advantage of a situation. Nor would the soldiers at the battle of Chickamauga shoot a person in such conditions. And if the Indians decided to, so be it. Hell could not get much worse. |
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