Obbie's Story Book

Walt awoke and his first movement inflicted him with unbelievable pain and his neck was inflamed and so tender even a feather landing on it would cause him to yell. It felt like someone with a very dull knife had separated his shoulder from the rest of his body and was trying to couple it together with molten lead. Heavy eyes slowly opened and a craving for food ravished his aching body. His left arm was tied to his side making it impossible to move and his first attempt failed drastically; a painful warning to lie motionless.

He heard noises at the sink and cautiously turned his head in that direction. His young companion was standing at the sink washing dishes and his back was to Walt.

"Hey, Tim, can an old man get something to eat around here? I'm so hungry my stomach thinks my mouth is on vacation."

The figure that turned around was a Lilliputian body in comparison to the one that had cut kindling yesterday. Tim turned to face his partner and Walt hardly recognized the body that had somehow miraculously found a way to melt away thirty pounds. His appearance was that of a someone ten years older and Walt was perplexed by the skeletal effigy standing before him.

"Are you sick, son?" he asked fearing what the answer might be. "Why are you wearing that fuzz on your face? It wasn't there yesterday when I got hurt."

Tears swelled in Tim's dazed eyes and ran down shallow cheeks. Massive tears of jubilation.

"Thank God you've come back. It wasn't yesterday you got hurt.You've been unconscious for four months. I didn't think you'd ever come out of that sleep you were in. I wanted to take you to the doctor but I knew neither one of us would have made it. The snow started a few days after you decided to hibernate for the winter."

"I've been out that long?" an unbelieving patient queried.

"Yes, and I was sure you'd never make it. I had to remove the axe blade from your shoulder and when I did you really started to bleed. I didn't know the human body carried that much blood. You were flowing like a river from your neck and I had to do something to keep you from bleeding to death. The artery in your neck was cut clean in two and was shrinking into your arm and the side of your neck. I took some of your rawhide and tied the artery ends together but I knew if I stopped the flow of blood to your arm you'd lose it. I looked all over the cabin for a tube of some kind that I could use to connect the artery back together again but I couldn't find a thing. Finally I took one of your rifle shells, removed the lead and powder, and cut off the cap end with a hacksaw. I pulled the artery up over each end of the shell and tied them together with your rawhide shoe laces. Then I sewed up your shoulder with the waxed thread you had put aside to mend your boots with if it ever became necessary. From then on all I could do was wait. Day after day I sat by your bed waiting for you to get better----or die. Your fever climbed so high I could hardly read it on the thermometer and at another time I couldn't find a pulse or even get a temperature reading. I was getting ready to dig a hole to put you in when you said something funny."

"What was it that was so funny it kept you from planting me in the ground?" Walt asked with a forced smile in his face.

"You called my name three times, said all you wanted was wisdom, and called me a weird name."

"What did I call you?"

"Something like Tataka, Winaka or something like that."

"Could it have been Wataka?"

"Yeah, that sounds like it. Who is or what is a Wataka?"

"I'll tell you about it later but right now you've got to get rid of the stink in here. Is something rotten?"

"I'll say there is. You've only had sponge baths for the last four months and that can make a person smell pretty bad."

"No, this smell isn't me unless I've died and started to spoil. The cabin smells like an outhouse."

"Oh! that smell. That's part you and part me. I guess I got used to it gradually."

"Got used to what?"

"Our body wastes."

"You mean to tell me you've been going to the bathroom in the cabin? Why didn't you go outside and use the toilet?"

"I really wish I could but I can?t. Over a month ago we had a snowstorm that was a lulu and I think it has snowed every day and night since then. The snow has drifted up over the door and the windows and we can't get out until the snow melts."

"Didn't you try to keep the door clean of the snow?" Walt asked a little concerned about Tim's knowledge of life in the wild.

"I worked my fanny off trying to keep the snow away from the door but I'll bet right now the whole cabin is covered by at least ten feet of the miserable white stuff. I'm glad I had sense enough to load the cabin with as much wood as I could get inside before we became house bound. If I hadn't kept the fire going in the fireplace like I did probably the chimney would have been snowed closed and useless."

"I'm sorry I even questioned you, Tim. If you hadn't been here I'd be as dead as last years rose. By the way what did you use for a toilet?"

Tim had a silly look on his face and it turned slightly red when he answered, "I'm using the bath tub."

"Tim, I've got to ask a dumb question. If we're covered with snow and you can't get out how come you still have hot water? I saw you washing something in the sink. Surely you've used hot water since I've been sick."

"Buckets and buckets of it. All I did was open the bottom half of the window a little bit and scoop snow into the big bowl. Then I put the snow into the tank on back of the stove. Every time I used any hot water I immediately filled the tank again."

"Another dumb question, Tim. If you could open the window and get snow did you think about burrowing out through it."

"Absolutely, but, every time I removed a bowl of snow from outside more snow settled in and took its place. The snow is fine and dry. If I tried to get out I would have been buried under tons of snow."

"You've done good, Tim."

"And, I must say, old man, you've aged me ten years in the last four months. You said I was dumb because I fell into a hole and broke my leg. I can't think if anything dumber than putting an axe head on a handle without putting a wedge in it to keep it from flying off." Walt felt stupid. He had been so intensively attuned to Tim's needs he had forgotten about the wedge. He started to orally defend himself when he saw the silly smile on his roomie's face and realized it was Tim's turn to get even.

"As soon as possible we've got to get to town and get supplies enough to last for the rest of this winter and all of next winter. That is if you want to stay next winter." Walt said giving his young companion a chance to choose.

"I won't be coming back here to this cold miserable place next winter," Tim said trying to show as much contempt and bad feelings as a teenager can muster and added with pleasant tones and a face-filling smile, "neither will you unless you really want to."

"How come?"

"While you were so peacefully resting I had a chance to clean out my backpack. On the bottom, under all the nuggets, I found our family bible and inside the cover was a letter written by my parents and addressed to both of us. You weren't in any condition to read it so I opened it and read it myself. These nuggets are just a sample of what mom and dad found in their mine. They found a hill of gold so big it will take a hundred years to remove it all."

"I'm glad for you, Tim, but what has that got to do with me."

"They left the mine to both of us. You and I are partners; rich partners."

"But I can't...."

"No buts about it. You and I are partners now and for ever and as soon as I can get you back on your feet we've got a lot to do."

"Like what?"

"We've got to get that metal tube out of your shoulder. I've got to be checked by a doctor. I've got to find a decent burial place for my parents. I've got to let my grandmother know what has happened and most important of all, if we stay here next winter we need a new bath tub. You're too weak to walk a hundred miles right now but while you were sleeping like a new-born baby I prepared for our trip out of here. I set the taut line and in the couple days before the snow started I caught some fish and smoked them."

"Were they hard to light?"

"Were they what?"

"I was wondering if the fish you smoked were hard to light."

Tim smiled and continued. "I killed a bear the day after you were hurt, removed his hide, and hung the meat out back on a high tree so other animals couldn't reach it. I smoked some strips of moose and elk meat in the fireplace. I made a small package of things we'd need or that I'd need if you didn't make it. I put some matches in an airtight jar and sealed them so they wouldn't get wet. I washed all our clothes and they're ready to go. I was going to make some snowshoes but I figured by the time you'd be able to walk out of here it will be spring and the snow will be gone."

"I'll be ready by next week."

"No you won't," Tim gleefully tossed back, "when people get to be as old as you their bodies don't mend as well as they do in us younger guys. I'd say at your age it will probably take two maybe three years before you're able to move and only then with the help of someone younger. While you were on your four month vacation I was going to catch a moose and see if I could saddle break it so you could have something to ride out of here but I figured it would be a waste of time. Old folks have a lot of trouble sitting on something moving faster than a rocking chair." Walt tried to keep a straight face but couldn't so he smiled and relaxed. His whole body hurt so much he thought for a minute Tim might be right.

Walt had a restful night and when he finally opened his eyes Tim was standing near the stove.

"We have a slight problem, Walt."

"Well, as long as it's only slight we can handle it. What's the problem?"

"It looks like a mouse got into our biscuits and did a job on them. There isn't one that's edible."

"That's not an insurmountable problem. Make another batch."

"That's where the insurmountable part comes in. I can't. We don't have enough flour."

"Our flour is all gone?" Walt said in disbelief. We had enough to last till spring if we took it easy."

"We have a little flour left but it's full of black bugs."

"Those are flour weevils. They won't hurt anything. Just pick them out and flush them down the sink."

"Even if I picked them out there won't be enough to make a batch of biscuits. I'll do what I can but it won't be much."

"While I'm waiting can I have a cup of coffee?"

"I'm afraid not. We don't have any coffee left."

"We had enough coffee." Walt said chastising Tim a little.

"I know that but there was a long time you couldn't eat or drink. I tried to feed you broth but you wouldn't swallow it. You kept spitting it out. For some reason or other you would swallow the coffee so I fed it to you." Walt felt foolish for getting slightly perturbed at Tim.

"Do we have any sugar left?"

"No. You like your coffee sweet so I put it in your coffee."

"Just what do we have left?"

"Only the meat that's left in the cold storage box, three cans of beans, a partial jar of peanut butter, some jelly, and that's it."

"What in the world have you been eating? If there's still meat in the cold box, you haven't been using the flour because of the bugs and the coffee and sugar are gone, you haven't had very much."

"I've had enough to get by."

"How about the potatoes do we have some of them left?"

"I'm afraid not. That's what I've been living on most of the time."

"What about the fish and meat you smoked where is that?"

"I put it in the storage box out back so it wouldn't spoil. It's covered with snow."

"Do you think you can get out and do some hunting?"

"I don't think so. This has got to be the worst storm we've had in a hundred years. Snow is piled so high the cabin has got to be covered with it. I think the cabin acted like a snow fence and stopped the snow. There's got to be tons of it sitting on top of right now. I even worried for awhile that our roof might cave in from all the extra weight. And if you had put the door on right when you built this cabin I could have dug us out. This is the only cabin I've seen where the door swings out rather than in."

"When did it stop snowing?" Walt asked trying to change the subject.

"I have no idea. For all I know it might be snowing right now."

"You've got to get out of here any way you can, Tim. I guess we still have some wood left but as soon as that's gone and the chimney cools the snow will cut off our oxygen supply. I'm surprised it hasn't happened already."

"We have a little wood left and I've thought of getting out but I won't run off and leave you here alone."

"You've got to. You need to get out of here and find help or we're both dead."

"How can I get out? The doors and windows are covered with snow."

"You have one chance. We'll have to let the fire in the fireplace die out and as soon as the stones are cool enough look up the chimney. There has to be a hole up there that the heat from the fireplace has kept open."

"If I let the fire go out you'll freeze to death."

"No I won't. The snow covering us has made the cabin a big igloo and as long as the stove is burning it won't get cold. I have plenty of blankets that I can wrap up in. It's you I'm worried about."

Tim was elated. Even in the face of death Walt's thoughts were about his safety.

"O.K. No more wood in the fireplace. Even if I get out how can I get you out? If the snow is piled thirty feet high there's no way possible I can dig down and get you out. I don't have anything to dig with."

"I'm hoping what you said about the drifts is true. If you're correct, ten, fifteen or even twenty feet out in front of the door the snow may only be one or two feet deep. If it is you can tunnel back and get to me. If it isn't I want you to take off for Fort Yukon. Those are the only two choices you have."

"Uh, I have another question. What do I do with the snow I'll need to remove once I get to the top of the chimney? I imagine the hole up through the snow isn't more than six inches across if it's that much."

"That doesn't pose a problem, Tim, just knock the snow back down the chimney."

"If I do I'll cut off your oxygen supply."

"I've been thinking about that too. All the time the fireplace has been lit draft from the chimney has been drawing oxygen from the room yet neither of us has had a breathing problem. Actually both of us should be dead right now. We should have suffocated a long time ago but for some reason we haven't. This may sound stupid, Tim, but I think Wataka has been taking care of us."

"I guess the fever has come back and you're delirious again. Who in the world is Wataka?"

"It's a long story and I'll tell you all about it later. Right now it's time to start up the chimney. Look out and see if you can see the sky." Tim walked to the chimney and looked up.

"I can't see a thing up there. Man there must be at least fifty feet of snow piled on us."

"If you can't see how can you tell how much snow there is?"

"If I can't see the top there's got to be loads of.....wait....there's something out there. Oh, my goodness. No wonder I couldn't see any blue sky. It's night and I just saw a star. It's ten o'clock in the evening not ten in the morning."

"Do you think you can climb out?"

"Does a skunk stink? Sure I can."

"You'd better get started then. If you see stars it isn't snowing anymore and Lord knows when it may start again. Don't over do it. If you get hot and sweaty don't remove your jacket. Just slow down a little until you cool off and whatever you do take it easy on that leg. You'll never be able to rescue me if you fall and break it again."

"Don't worry, Grandpa," Tim teased, "I'll be back before you can teach that collar bone to knit." He started toward the chimney.

"Hey, young one, do you think you could put some wood in the stove before you leave. I'd hate to have you dig me out and find me frozen to death."

"Oh sure. I forgot." Tim loaded the stove and headed back to the chimney.

"See you soon, Walt."

"I sure hope so."

In seconds Tim was on his way up the slippery soot covered passageway to the fresh air above. Carefully, painstakingly, he placed his hands and feet on each stone as he ascended slowly upward being positive each foot was anchored in place before he took another step. It took nearly half an hour to scale the vertical four-sided wall and reach the top of the chimney. Stretching upward into the snow he scooped handful after handful into the cavity beneath him. A little snow settled on his face, melted, and ended a short journey by being soaked up by his shirt collar. The coolness invigorated him and by the time another thirty minutes of digging passed he was triumphantly standing on top of the chimney; the interior of the cabin lost to his sight. The solid precipitation now occupying the completeness of his escape route cut off his vision into the room.

Up to now everything he had done was of a physical nature but at the moment he was caught in a mental dilemma. If he continued his upward movement he'd have to remove his feet from the solid foundation of the chimney and if he stepped on the snow filling his escape route it was possible he might sink into it below the level of the chimney top and have to climb out again. The downward movement of his body might cause the snow above him to form a miniature avalanche and seal him in the chimney. If his digging direction must make an acute change, because it was possible the snow above him was not solid enough to support his weight, he would lose the air hole that was supplying his oxygen. The latter answer to his problem somehow seemed to be more satisfactory to him so he began digging through the snow at a forty five degree angle. More slowly than he desired the snow disappeared in front of him and filled the spot he had just vacated. Onward, driven like a knight of the round-table searching for the Holy Grail, he continued his progress. His labor made the minutes drag and in his mind many hours had passed since he said farewell to his snowbound partner, but in reality it was less than two. His hands were like a bulldozer as he repeatedly thrust them forward moving the snow in front and his movements were rewarded when the snow on top of him fell in and he was looking out into the night.

The moon was hiding, wherever it is the moon hides when it isn't aglow in the sky, yet it was nearly daylight bright. Heaven's artist was displaying his talent to the northern world and the aurora borealis slithered and swayed its magnificence from horizon to horizon.

Tim had been correct in his assumption that the building had acted as a barrier for the blowing snow and twelve feet in front of the spot where the door to the cabin was located the ground was frozen solid and nearly free from snow. He played penguin and sliding on his belly rode the little hill of snow to the ground below. He stood erect and critiqued his problems. First and foremost the snow blocking the cabin door must be removed. It was imperative he dislodge enough snow to permit the door to open wide enough to allow Walt's exit but once he could free him from his snowbound prison what would Tim do with him. Neither of them could make it to Fort Yukon but that wasn't important now. First things first. He had to get back to his partner before the dark God of the underworld, Pluto, decided to carry Walt off to Erebus.

His attention was focused on the tracks of tiny feet and a miniature tunnel leading toward the door. Careful not to block off the tunnel he removed the snow and surprisingly his progression exceeded his expectations. The snow was not as soft and powdery as that adjacent to the window where he was getting his supply for water. Instead this snow seemed to contain a small amount or moisture making it easier to roll the snow into basketball size spheres and toss them away from the cabin. The tiny tunnel guided him to the corner of the door below the door handle and in less than an hour he had completely removed the snow and opened the door wide enough to yell in.

"You still alive in there, old man?"

Because no sound was forthcoming his mind hit the panic button.

"Hey, are you alright?" he yelled louder this time as he pulled the door nearly all the way open.

"I was doing fine until you started yelling and woke me up," Walt answered with a big yawn. "Where have you been so long?" Tim surmised Walt was feeling better.

"There's something fishy going on here, Walt."

"Why do you say that?"

"I got back to he cabin by following a small tunnel made by a mouse. Do you suppose it's the same one that ate our biscuits?"

"It ate our biscuits and saved our lives."

"How do you figure that?"

"That tunnel the mouse made was where our oxygen was coming from. As the draft drew the smoke up the chimney it drew in fresh air from the outside. If it wasn't for that mouse you and I would be dead."

"I thought for awhile because the mouse had eaten our biscuits we'd die of starvation, instead it saved out lives. Crazy world isn't it?"

"Speaking of dying I suggest as soon as you get your wind back you clean the snow out of the fireplace and start a fire. If you don't we'll freeze to death, but before you do that please get rid of the bath tub."

"Boy, am I glad I didn't work for you when I was going to high school. You sure are a slave driver."

Being extremely careful so he wouldn't spill anything Tim grabbed the tub by the handle and slowly dragged it across the floor. When it was outside and a sufficient distance from the building to cause any kind of problem he emptied it. He returned to the cabin and got a bucket of hot water from the stove so he could wash it out. Then with the exuberance of youth he partially filled the tub and removed the snow from the fireplace. This method was more proficient than toting smaller loads and making a million trips. He hauled the snow outside and piled it far enough away to prevent it from becoming a menace and load after tedious load found its way into the snow dump. It had never entered his mind he had dispensed so much snow back through his escape route. He finished removing the snow and placing some kindling and wood in the fireplace set it ablaze. Soon the inside of the room was as toasty warm as it had been before he began his digging.

Tim opened the cold box, removed two steaks and put them on the counter knowing it would take at least an hour for them to thaw out sufficiently to cook.

"How much meat do we have in the cold box, Tim?"

"Enough for three more days if.....if.....we eat one meal a day."

"That's all we've got left?" Walt asked surprised by the answer. "I thought we had more than that."

"I used a lot of the meat to make broth for you once you could hold it down. Remember you couldn't chew for a long time. I fed you broth half a dozen times a day. You didn't take much at first but once you started getting well you went through it pretty fast."

"Again thanks. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be alive."

"I guess we're even. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here either."

"Now that we've accoladed each other," Walt smiled,"do you feel up to doing some hunting? If we don't get more food before long we won't make it until spring."

"I'd love to do some hunting. What's your preference? Moose, deer, elk, rabbit, squirrel or cow?"

"Cow, where do you expect to find a ....."

"Hey, if you don't like beef just say so. I'll try and kill something young and tender so you won't have to much trouble chewing." The youngster was enjoying the razzing of his older companion and Walt was pleased Tim had a sense of humor.

"Before I do anything else I'd better have a look at your shoulder. I haven't checked it since last Wednesday. I want to be sure you heal so we can spend some money together," and then added as an afterthought, "before you get too old to enjoy it." He removed the bandage from Walt's shoulder and uttered a low grunt.

"Something wrong young one"

"No, no. I'm surprised by how well your healing. It looks good. If you keep getting on like this we may make it out by spring after all."

"Not if you don't stop wasting your time here with me and go find something to eat."

"O. K. touchy, I'm on my way. It shouldn't take too long to find something to appease your never ending appetite. Just don't go away."

"Where can I....." Once more Walt knew Tim had gotten him.

Jubilant, happy they were both alive, and with expectations for a successful hunt soaring Tim removed his rifle from the rack and pocketed a dozen shells. He'd kill and butcher enough meat on this trip to assure survival for several weeks and do it without unnecessary slaying. In three hours darkness would settle in and take away his hunting ability but finding game in Alaska had never posed a problem. There was always a ---steak on the hoof---somewhere waiting to grace a cabin table.

His spirits had descended into a deep abyss by he time he arrived back at the cabin shortly after dark...empty handed. Neither feather nor fur had aligned themselves in the sight if his rifle and even the telltale tracks that yelled to a hunter "I'm here find me" were absent.

"It looks like the snow must have driven all the game to a better feeding ground. I didn't see a single thing move or even a track in the snow to indicate that there was anything around."

"Don't worry about it tomorrow is another day. There's a lot of game around and you'll get your share of it."

The succeeding day was a clone of the previous one...no meat or tracks within twenty miles of the cabin. The ensuing day was the same and the day after followed suit. The cabin was as void of food as a street person's bank account was of money. All the meat, canned goods, sugar, coffee, flour and everything else had deserted the premises and in her worst days Mother Hubbard's cupboard was no barer than the one in Walt's cabin.

"We sure are stupid, Tim. You've got smoked meat and fish stored out back. Dig down to the storage bin and we'll eat that."

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to tell you this. I've already looked into the box or at least what's left of it. Just before it snowed a bear must have smelled the food. It tore the box apart and cleaned it of all the contents." Both men felt the anguish of hunger pains and Tim was afraid to wonder any distance from the cabin fearing his companion might take a turn for the worse. Walt's shoulder pain had diminished to almost nothing but his hunger pain had expanded a hundred fold.

Returning after dark from another hunting trip his slow saunter into the cabin told of his unsuccessful search. He added more wood to each fire and wanted to talk to Walt but he was far away in one of his ever more frequent naps.

A blood curdling howl from outside the door bolted Walt upright in bid and caused the hair on Tim's back and arms to become rigid. With a swiftness that startled both occupants Tim grabbed his rifle and headed for the door.

"Wait, Tim. If that's a big white wolf leave it alone."

"Are you crazy or are you feverish again? We're hungry and may starve to death. I've never eaten wolf before, and I don't know how it tastes, but I'm willing to give it a chance."

"Look out the door and tell me what you see."

Tim fulfilled his roomies request and puckering up expelled a long low whistle.

"What a magnificent animal. He's almost as white as snow and must weigh three hundred and fifty pounds."

"Did he leave something outside the door?"

"Nothing I can see."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive but I'll check outside just to please you." He walked out and returned immediately.

"Nothing there. What did you expect?"

"I expected to find a big deer near....." Another howl came that reverberated inside the cabin and echoed off toward the forest. Tim jumped for his gun again and once more Walt verbally stopped him. Instead of animalistic howls the couple inside the cabin experienced a number of growls that started deep, deep, down in stalwart lungs, traveled through a powerful throat and rolled unhindered out a fang filled mouth.

"I think whatever it is our there wants to make a meal out of us, Walt. You better let me take a shot at it."

"No. Once the growling stops see if he left us a gift."

Tim stared at Walt thinking he had finally slipped over the edge, gone off the deep end. He touched his patient's head and was gladdened to find it cool to the touch. The growling had diminished in intensity, turned from the door, and was fading off in the direction of the woods.

"O.K. check outside the door."

Unwilling, almost fearful, he opened the door and stared toward the timberline where two huge blazing eyes watched his every move. The light from the cabin bounced back from those eyes as bright as laser beams flashing on a dark night until the wolfish head turned from the cabin and became part of the darkness.

Tim peered to his left and there on the cold frozen ground was the most enormous buck he had ever seen. It was still alive, breathing and bleating soft pain-filled sounds. Both front legs had been broken by the jaws of the predator and it couldn't stand. Hastily Tim retrieved his rifle and with a single well-placed shot quelled the majestic buck's misery. It was so huge it was nearly unmovable.

"Get the rope under the sink, make a loop, and put it over the buck's antlers," Walt told his partner when Tim entered the cabin.

"How do you know it's a buck? You can't see him from there."

"I know it's a buck. Throw the other end of the rope over the ceiling beam in the kitchen and hoist the deer so you can clean it in here."

"If I clean it inside the cabin I'll get blood and guts all over the place."

"Not if you put the tub under the buck and clean him carefully. Save the liver and heart and we'll have them as soon as you can cook them."

Tim set his body in motion to tackle the task before him. He had never felt squeamish about skinning a deer before but this one was different. This one sent cold shivers and tingles up and down his spine. Experience had taught him a deer as weighty as this would be as tough as tree bark and probably taste almost as good.

The blood pumping heart and blood purifying liver were big enough to fill a rather large pot.

"How big is the stomach?" Walt asked his young companion.

"It's big. Really big. Why?"

"When you get it put it in the sink and cut it open."

"Why, I don't care what's in there."

"Just do it," Walt said in an authoritative manner.

"If you say so. I don't see what good it will do to know what this poor animal had for its last meal." He carefully lifted the stomach into the sink and made a hole in the four-chambered appendage.

"I can't believe this," a bewildered lad said to is mentor, "his stomach is full of crab apples. Some are partially chewed and some are whole. It looks like he ate them ten minutes ago."

"Put the whole ones in the sink and wash them thoroughly. They'll go good for desert after we eat the heart and liver and if we have any left over we can put them in the oven and bake them."

"Where in the world could he find apples this time of year? I've never heard of a deer swallowing apples whole and how did you know they'd be in his stomach?"

"I really didn't. Wataka told me he'd send a wolf with a buck when I needed it most. It was just a thought that he'd add something extra."

"What else did Wataka tell you?"

"He told me several things and I'll tell them to you just before they happen."

"Oh, sure. If something happens you can say Wataka caused it. If nothing happens I'll never know what's supposed to happen. We've got to sit down and talk about what happened while you were out of your noodle with fever."

"I'll tell you this much, Tim. Very soon a raccoon will come and give me a present; a precious gift. Then an owl will come and tell me it's time to take the next step."

"Now you're talking to the birds," Tim said shaking his head in disbelief. "You must have been on a fun trip. All I gave you was water, coffee, and broth, and I didn't know any of those things would produce hallucinations."

"You'll see when the time comes----and so will I. By the way, how is our wood supply?"

"We have a little left in here and there isn't any more cut up outside.If you remember correctly you decided to go vacation before we had much wood split into burning size. I'll get with it in the morning and split us up enough to last for awhile. With all the time I've spent hunting I haven't had time to think about the wood."

That night the weather worsened by the hour and snow was falling in flakes so immense they made a noise when they bombarded the land. While still earthbound they obliterated all the light that existed between the moisture laden clouds and the earth. Blown by the arctic wind drifts rose twenty feet high in places that had never been infested with them before. The white precipitation decreased its gravity-pulled flight and the temperature plummeted to fifty-seven breath-freezing degrees below zero and lingered there for days on end. The deer meat was holding out and to the surprise of both men was delicious, but three meals a day for each of them would quickly diminish the supply. Tim yearned to don layers of clothes and hunt for something else but mother nature said "NO" and the weather kept them cabin-bound.

What little wood they had for the fireplace was disappearing at an alarming rate and there was even less wood for the stove. Then the weather turned worse. It dropped to eighty degrees below zero and remained there for four days. On the fifth day it warmed to thirteen degrees below but the icy wind howled long and furiously and the chill factor dropped the air to feel a hundred below. Tim tried once to go out side for wood but the howling wind quickly took his breath away and if he had let go of the cabin door he would have been blown away.

The stove won the race and ran out or wood first and the fireplace followed a close second. It was impossible for Tim to get outside for more wood and even if he could it would be buried under several feet of snow.

"Start with the chairs, Tim, and break up everything you can that will burn. Smash the table into pieces and when they're gone tear the cabinets from the wall and burn them. Next you'll need to start on your bed. Use the wood the bins are made from and when worse comes to worse break up my bed. If it becomes absolutely necessary tear up floor and burn that too."

Tim's priorities were in contrast to those of his host as to what should burn first. He started on the bins and broke them into stove size lengths, the chairs followed, then the table, the shelves, cabinets, and everything burnable was busted and slated for extinction except the beds. In time they too surrendered to the axe.

The only incontestable thing going on while they were imprisoned in the cabin was that Walt's health continued to improve daily. He was ambulatory and with self-therapeutic exercises managed to use his arm. At first pins and needles tormented his left upper limb but feeling in all his fingers was taken as a sign he wouldn't lose them. He cooked, swept the floor, washed dishes, and completed whatever menial tasks his body allowed but the younger and stronger of the pair shouldered the majority of the household responsibilities.

Eventually it happened, the meat was getting low. Deer meat, in some form or other, three times a day for the two of them diminished the supply in short order. And all the wood in the cabin had transformed itself from large solid chunks into wind-dispersible ash.

Walt broke several deer bones into two separate pieces and loaded them into the hot water tank on the back of the stove. He hoped the water was hot enough to turn the bone and marrow into a broth knowing without condiments it would never be awarded a blue ribbon for taste. It would definitely lack flavor but it was possible it might provide enough nourishment to sustain life until they could replenish their pantry.

To remove the floor and cut it into stove lengths was absolutely the last thing Walt intended to do but he was left without a choice. Tim removed the boards that had separated his bed from the warm room and cold ground and cut them into burning size. Walt filled the stove and fireplace and banked them with ashes. Tim gathered every available blanket they had and made a cloth bed on the floor hoping the two of them sleeping side by side would help by sharing body heat. Sometime during the night the wind attained speeds between gale and hurricane and howled so loudly it popped open four sleepy eyes. The cabin shook and nearly left the foundation and they both thought the roof would surely end up in a different county. The only thing keeping them earthbound was the snow drift that had imprisoned them in the early days of the storm. At four A M the temperature climbed to zero and the wind subsided. The fires were little more than glowing embers but the cabin remained warm inside.

Tim was first to notice the sunlight. The windows were clear for the first time in months. The howling wind had gathered the snow and sent it flying leaving the cabin sitting in solitude. He slipped into his parka and walked outside into a clear sun-light bright day. The cabin was no longer a prisoner of the snow and neither was the woodpile; what little there was of it. Walt's accident had caused his wood cutting to cease and Tim was too busy tending Walt to think about anything else. Happy to be free to move about outside he split some wood and gathering an armful of potential heat he walked back into the cabin. Smiling at the still blanket-bound sleepy-head he loaded the fireplace and disappeared through the door to return several minutes later with a load of stove wood. The temperature in the cabin was happy to oblige the occupants by quickly getting back to normal. Working like the proverbial ant he cut and moved loads of wood inside perchance Old Man winter and Jack Frost united in another frontal attack.

Walt was up and about so Tim trudged off into the weald prepared to shoot anything wild big enough to leave a track. His three hour quest, as it had done numerous times before, ended in failure. There wasn't a sign of an animal anywhere. He was returning to the warmth of the cabin, very disappointed, when an owl noiselessly swooped down on him from behind and seized the hood of his parka in its talons. The surprise of the attack and the strength of the grip nearly lifted Tim off the ground. Unharmed but startled he steadied himself and continued his homeward progress. He was downhearted and feared for the well-being of his not completely healed friend.

Nearing the cabin he glanced in the direction of the woodpile and there sat a twitching-nose rabbit. Slowly, so as not to scare the rabbit, he carefully raised his gun and fired his best Annie Oakly shot. If rabbits have nine lives the same as cats this one had already used eight of his for the bullet found its mark and the rabbit fell in a furry heap. Tim removed the soft fur and carried the meat to Walt who in short order had it sizzling in the frying pan. Tim told him the story of the owl.