Newfoundland Stories by Eldon Drodge Page A

would take him that much longer. In any case, the ice of the lake was still firm enough to bear his considerable weight, and would remain so well into April.
    The dog, as anxious as its master to reach the comforts of the cabin, paced, never far from the man’s side. No overt communication of any kind passed between them, yet the bond and understanding between man and beast were unmistakable. They were partners, relying on each other for companionship and protection.
    Halfway to his destination, the man stopped to rest again for a few minutes. His legs were beginning to cramp from the long hours of hard walking, and he stooped slightly to rub them to restore circulation. This time he did not bother to remove the load from his back. He wasn’t planning to stop very long.
    The loud low explosions that frequently reverberated across the ice caused him no concern. Neither did the long jagged crack lines that marked the ice surface in numerous places. They simply spelled the beginning of spring thaw as the many layers of ice that covered the lake to a depth of several feet in some areas grounded and grated against each other below the frigid surface. The first real indication that the ice was becoming unsafe would be the appearance of open pools of water along the shoreline. None of these were yet visible. The other potential peril, soft areas caused by shifting undercurrents, underground springs, and warm spots in the lake’s depths, were usually identifiable by a discolouring of the ice in those particular areas. The man had not noted any of these yet this year.
    The discomfort of his legs assuaged somewhat, he started out again. By now, night had descended in full, and the darkness rendered his progress a little more difficult, although he knew his way across the frozen lake by heart. The dog, meandering ahead, knew instinctively that he was now charged with some of the responsibility for getting his master and himself safely home.
    The man had advanced no more than a dozen paces when he heard the dog growl, and knew instantly that something was amiss. When the growls became whines and sharp yips, he immediately turned back, implicitly placing his trust in the animal’s instincts. Clearly, some danger lay ahead. He would have to retrace his steps and approach the cabin from a different direction.
    But it was too late. He felt the ice open beneath him, and even as he tried to straddle the danger area, he felt himself falling. Suddenly up to his waist in the shockingly frigid water, he clung to the edge of the ice, trying frantically to pull himself up. He hung there for several seconds, and then, to his disbelief, the ice failed under his weight and he plunged below the surface. He struggled upward but the load on his back kept pulling him down. He knew that his only chance of survival was to remove it. He desperately tried to dislodge the traps securely tied across his shoulders.
    To his horror, the rope was snagged, and the backpack, metal traps, and snowshoes were all entangled with each other. He tried to shuck out of his fur coat, but the same rope bound it too tightly. He was trapped and running out of time. His lungs were bursting and he was forced to exhale, spitting a stream of bubbles to the surface. Still, he refused to inhale, but finally, the searing in his chest forced him to gasp – he had to breathe, he had to have air. Instead, icy water rushed in and filled his mouth, and then his lungs. His frantic struggles slowed until they finally ceased altogether and the panic magically transformed itself into calm acceptance. Limp, his body drifted to the bottom of the lake.
    The dog howled into the night, its grief echoing across the lake into the darkness. It held a lonely vigil. When it was finally over, he set off, not toward the cabin, but back across the lake toward the dark woods that lay beyond, leaving behind him forever the only companion he had ever known.
    AUTHOR’S NOTE
    Who was this