OBJECTS OF CHARITY.
While Cabot felt very bitter against the young Indian whom he had named
"Arsenic," on account of the base ingratitude with which the latter had
repaid the kindness shown him, and was determined to punish him for it
in some way, he had not the slightest idea what form the punishment
would take. Of course he did not intend to kill Arsenic, nor even to
severely injure him, but he had thought of giving the rascal a sound
thrashing, and only hoped he could make him understand what it was for.
In the excitement of the past two weeks he had forgotten all about
Arsenic, but the sight of those ragged children had awakened his
animosity, and he had followed them, hoping that they would lead him to
the object of his just wrath. It was only when he reached the
sorry-looking tent that he remembered the other savages whom Arsenic
had brought with him on his second visit to the schooner, and wondered
if some of them might not be concealed behind the canvas screen ready
to spring upon him.
With this thought he stepped nimbly to one side as he threw open the
flap, and stood for a moment waiting for what might happen. There was
no rush of men and no sound, save only a faint cry of terror, hearing
which Cabot peered cautiously around the edge of the opening.
A poor little fire of sticks smouldered on the ground in the middle,
filling the place with a pungent smoke. Through this Cabot could at
first make out only a confused huddle at one side, from which several
pairs of eyes glared at him like those of wild beasts. As he entered
the tent a human figure detached itself from this and strove to rise,
but fell back weakly helpless. In another moment a closer view
disclosed to Cabot the whole dreadful situation. The huddle resolved
itself into a woman, hollow-cheeked and gaunt with sickness and hunger,
two children in slightly better plight, and a little dead baby. There
was no other person in the tent, and it contained no furnishing except
the heap of boughs, rags, and scraps of fur that passed for a bed, and
a broken kettle that lay beside the fire. On the floor were scattered
a few bones picked clean, from which even the marrow had been
extracted; but otherwise there was no vestige of food.
"I believe they are starving to death!" cried Cabot, as he made these
discoveries.
"It certainly looks like it," replied White, who had followed his
friend into the tent. "I wonder what they did with all the provisions
they stole from us."
"Probably they were taken from them in turn to feed those other
Indians. At any rate, they are destitute enough now, and we can't
leave them here to die. Go and bring Yim with the sled as quick as you
can, while I wake up this fire."
"All right," replied White, "only I'm afraid he won't come."
"He must come," said Cabot decisively.
The hatred between Eskimo and Indian is so bitter that it took all
White's powers of persuasion, together with certain threats, to bring
Yim to the tent, but once there even he was sufficiently roused by its
spectacle of suffering to bestir himself most actively.
During the next hour, while the starving, half-frozen Indians were
warmed and fed, the rescuers discussed the situation and what should be
done. They could not leave the helpless family as they had found them,
neither could they carry them away, and it would be folly to remain
with them longer than was absolutely necessary. They could not gain a
word of information from the woman or children as to how they had
arrived at such a pitiable plight, what they had done with the stolen
provisions, why their friends had abandoned them, or what had become of
Arsenic.
"I'll tell you what," said Cabot at length; "we'll provide them with a
supply of wood and leave all the provisions we can possibly spare.
Then we will hurry on to Indian Harbour, send back some more provisions
from there by Yim, and get him to report the case to Mr. Mellins."
As there seemed nothing better to be done, this plan was carried out,
though dividing the provisions made each portion look woefully small,
and by noon the sledge was again on its way southward.
The head of the fiord having been reached, the trail now left the
sheltering timber and struck across an open country, which was also
extremely rugged, abounding in hills and hollows. Over these the
sledge pulled heavily, in spite of its lightened load, because one of
the ice shoes, with which its runners were shod, had broken and could
not be repaired until camp was made.
When they had gone about three miles, and while our lads were still
talking of the suffering they had so recently witnessed, they were
attracted by an exclamation from Yim, who was pointing eagerly ahead.
Looking in that direction, they saw a line of dark objects, that had
just topped a distant ridge, running swiftly towards them.
"Caribou!" shouted White, in great excitement, at the same time seizing
his rifle from the sledge and hastily removing it from its sealskin
case. In another minute sledge and dogs were concealed in a bit of a
gully, with Cabot to watch them, while Yim and White, lying flat behind
the crest of a low ridge, were eagerly noting the course of the
approaching animals. When it became evident that they would pass at
some distance on the right, White, crouching low, ran in that direction.
The caribou appeared badly frightened, pausing every few moments to
face about and cast terrified glances over the way they had come. All
at once, during one of these pauses, a shot rang out, followed quickly
by another, and, as the terrified animals dashed madly away in a new
direction, one of their number dropped behind, staggered, and fell.
"I've got him! I've got him!" yelled White, wild with the joy of his
achievement.
"Hurrah for us!" shouted Cabot. "Steaks and spare-ribs for supper
to-night."
"Yip, yip, yip!" screamed Yim to his dogs, and with a jubilant chorus
of yells and yelpings, the entire outfit streamed over the ridge to the
place where the unfortunate caribou lay motionless.
In his broken English Yim gave the lads to understand that it would be
advisable to camp where they were, in order to prepare their meat for
transportation, and also to mend their broken sledge shoe. This
latter, he explained, could be done much better with a mixture of blood
and snow than with any other available material. He furthermore
intimated that he feared they might be overtaken by a blizzard before
morning, in which case they could best defy it in a regularly built
igloo.
All these reasons for delay seemed so good that the others accepted
them, and the work outlined by Yim was immediately begun. In cutting
up the caribou, as in building the snow hut, Cabot, from lack of
experience, could give but slight assistance, and, realising this, he
made a proposal.
"Look here," he said. "The wood we have brought along won't last long
and I want a good fire to-night. I also want to carry some of this
meat to those poor wretches we have just left. We have got more than
we can take with us, anyhow. So I am going back with a leg of venison,
and on my return I'll bring all the wood I can pack."
"But you might lose the way," objected White.
"No one could lose so plain a trail as the one we have just made,"
replied Cabot, scornfully.
"Suppose it should be dark before you got back?"
"There will be three hours of daylight yet, and I won't be gone more
than two at the most. Anyhow, I must get some of this meat to those
starving children."
White's protests were ineffectual before Cabot's strong resolve, and,
as soon as a forequarter of the caribou could be made ready, the latter
get forth on his errand of mercy. Although he had no difficulty in
finding the trail, it was so much harder to walk with a heavy load than
it had been without one that a full hour had passed before he again
came within sight of the lonely tent in the forest.
One of the children who was outside spied him and announced his coming,
so that when he entered the tent he again found a frightened group
huddled together and apprehensively awaiting him. But they were
stronger now, and the children uttered little squeals of joy at sight
of the meat he had brought, while even the haggard face of their mother
was lighted by a fleeting smile.
For the pleasure of seeing the children eat Cabot toasted a few strips
of venison over the coals, and these smelled so good that he cut off
some more for himself. In this occupation he spent another hour
without realising the flight of time, and had eaten a quantity of meat
that he would have deemed impossible had it all been placed before him
at once.
As he was bending over the fire toasting a strip that he said to
himself should be the last, a slight cry from one of the children
caused him to look up. He barely caught a glimpse of a face at the
entrance as it was hastily withdrawn, but in that moment he recognised
the features of Arsenic. At sight of the ill-favoured young Indian all
of Cabot's former resentment flamed up, and springing to his feet he
dashed from the tent, determined to give Arsenic the thrashing he
deserved.
Of course Cabot had removed his snowshoes, but, as the young Indian had
done the same thing, both were compelled to readjust these
all-important articles, without which they would have floundered
helplessly in the deep snow.
Arsenic was off first, and though Cabot chased him hotly he could not
overcome the advantage thus gained. Being also much less expert in the
management of snowshoes, he tripped several times, and finally pitched
headlong. When he next regained his feet Arsenic had disappeared in
the timber, and our lad realised the futility of a further pursuit.
Now, too, he noticed that the sky had become heavily overcast, and that
a strong wind was soughing ominously through the tree tops.
"It must be later than I thought," he reflected, "and high time for me
to be getting back to camp." With this he hastily gathered a bundle of
sticks to be used as firewood and started, as he supposed, towards the
open; but so confused was he, and so many turns did he make, that more
than half an hour was wasted before he finally emerged from the timber.
Here he was dismayed to find that snow was falling, or rather being
driven in straight lines by the wind, which had increased to the force
of a gale.
"I've got to hump myself to reach camp before dark, but I'll make it
all right," he remarked to himself, as he set forth across the white
plain.
He took a diagonal course that he hoped would lead him to the trail,
but by the time all landmarks were obliterated by the descending night
he had failed to find it. In looking back he could not even
distinguish the timber line from which he had come. Then the awful
conviction slowly forced itself upon him that he was lost in a
trackless wilderness, swept by the first fury of an Arctic blizzard.