_Indians_
Once across Dismal Lake their troubles were ended. The country now
abounded in game, and they traveled without haste or anxiety to the
headwaters of the Dease River where Eskimo hunting camps were scattered
on every hill.
[Illustration: “GOOD GRACIOUS! DON’T KILL ME!” CRIED A FAMILIAR VOICE.
--(See page 216)]
Taptuna and Guninana had known some of these families before and
they soon made friends with others, for this was entirely a friendly
gathering, everybody having come on the same peaceful mission--to cut
spruce and make wooden utensils. There was little need to be afraid of
bad Eskimos camped near by, or enemies lurking in the woods, so during
a whole month the people kept up a continuous party. The sun shone
steadily all the time; and without change from light to darkness, or
darkness to light, without clocks, or anything to remind them they
ought to stop talking or working or playing, the happy campers did
not stop until they got through with whatever occupied them. Kak and
his father would go off to cut a tree, and having felled it, start
hewing boards, and chop, and chop till the whole thing stood ready for
drying; and then they would discover they were frightfully tired and
hungry, and saunter home to eat and sleep. Maybe they had been away
sixteen hours, maybe twenty--nobody noticed and nobody cared.
The men alternated this heavy work with hunting, for it was now August
and the caribou skins at their short-haired best, and Taptuna knew
he must obtain enough to make all their winter clothes. Scraping the
skins and sewing them kept Guninana busy; and Noashak amused herself
gathering berries, making wreaths of flowers, and trying to work. Once
she played with a party of other children, just arrived, for three days
and three nights without stopping to sleep--that is for as long as
three of our days and nights. The sun was shining, the world ringing
with their merry voices, more and more new friends kept coming to
stir up excitement, and they were all so supremely happy none of them
thought of ending the game. Would you ever want to stop play and rest
if the sun did not set you a good example by going to bed first? I
doubt it. Noashak was very tired and horribly cross at the end of the
party; she wriggled into the tent, dropped on the bed, and slept till
her mother thought she was never going to wake up.
While Noashak was sleeping Kak enjoyed a great treat. His beloved
Omialik took him on a little hunting trip, only the two of them
together. It was the proudest event of the boy’s life. So far he had
not realized either of his ambitions: neither grizzly bear nor Indian
had crossed his path. However, on the second day of the outing, while
Omialik sat with his glasses carefully surveying the surrounding
country for a glimpse of game, Kak saw him stiffen to attention and
rivet his gaze on one spot.
“What do you see over there?” the white man asked presently, handing
the glasses to his young companion.
Kak focused them with eager fingers, conscious of the honor in being
thus consulted. “Men,” he answered, and his voice shook more than his
hands, for he knew what he saw.
“Are they Eskimos?”
“No, none of them--none of them!” Kak was trembling all over with
excitement so that he could hardly hold the glasses.
Omialik took another look. “Might be my friend, Selby,” he muttered,
“but I don’t believe it is,” adding aloud to Kak: “Well, since we don’t
know what they are, shall we go and meet them and find out?”
The Eskimo made a slight gurgling noise in his throat which he meant
for assent. His inherited instinct would have been to lie low,
allowing these intruders to pass unchallenged; but curiosity worked
up to foolhardy courage by his contact with the white man triumphed
over discretion. He wanted to meet them, his soul craved to meet them,
to observe them closely. The dread name of the enemy had not been
mentioned, but Kak knew. He wondered if he ought to warn the Kabluna
and thought: “Perhaps if I do Omialik won’t go any nearer.” Twice the
lad’s mouth opened to speak, and twice he shut it stubbornly. This was
the chance of a lifetime. Danger or no danger he would follow on--at
the worst Omialik had his magic gun.
To Kak’s surprise his companion did not seem one whit afraid of the
three strangers. His approach showed no stealth. When they came to an
open place on top of the ridge he stood up, waved his arms, called,
and made signs for the other party to wait. Kak watched, hanging back
a little, and shaking in those stout sealskin shoes which Guninana had
made for him. He felt mightily relieved when the white man took his
glasses for another look at closer quarters.
“Indians,” Omialik pronounced briefly.
It was true then! Kak’s heart pounded. A queer feeling shot all over
him, up and down his spine from his hair to his heels.
“Aren’t you--aren’t you scared?” he blurted out.
The Kabluna turned, eyed him searchingly, and laughed. “Good gracious,
no! But of course if you are--if you feel jumpy, my boy, stay here and
I’ll come back for you.”
The young hunter flushed. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything!” he cried,
and moved on in front.
They struck across the valley at a wide angle calculated to head off
the strangers. Kak led boldly for the first mile; but long before the
parties actually met he had discovered an excuse and lagged behind.
The Indians were not a bit what he expected. They all wore white
man’s clothes, and one of them talked fluently with Omialik. In vain
the boy’s nervous glances searched them for a feather or a scalp or
tomahawk, or any sign of their wild and wicked nature. How he wished he
could understand what was being said! While their comrade made speeches
the other two strangers sat down on a log. The Eskimo watched them out
of the corner of his eye. They were very dark-skinned, these men, and
had terribly fierce faces, heartless faces. He noted uneasily that
through all the conversation neither the Indian nor Omialik laughed
once.
The Kabluna had been lucky with his hunting and was carrying deer
ribs; the Indians, it appeared, were not so fortunate. By and by
Omialik asked Kak to make a fire. Keeping his glance as much as
possible on the treacherous foe, the boy set about his job. But when
the fellows sitting down saw what he was doing, they offered to help.
It is difficult to remain afraid of any one willing to assist you in a
small domestic task. By the time they had a fire lit and the deer meat
turning on sticks before it everybody’s tremors were mostly gone.
“Kak,” said Omialik, “the strangers are quite as much interested in you
as you are in them. This chap--Jimmie Muskrat is his name--tells me
they came away north, much farther north than they generally hunt, with
the hope of meeting Eskimos.”
“Has he met any? Where has he met them?” asked Kak.
The Kabluna translated. “And now you are going back again, so I suppose
you have seen Eskimos?”
Jimmie looked sheepish and hastened to explain: “When we found their
tracks, so many of them all about here, we thought: ‘Three is a very
small party and perhaps, now we know where to find these dangerous
people another year, it would be better to return with the news, and
tell our story, rather than get into a fight and maybe remain silent
forever.’”
Omialik kept his face perfectly grave while repeating this, and Kak
with a great effort managed to control his; but they both wanted to
burst out laughing.
“Who is the story for? Who are you planning to tell?”
“I’m coming to that,” Jimmie said. “You have been with this boy’s
people? You know them--you trust them?”
“Many months,” Omialik answered. “I find them friendly.” And he winked
at Kak, saying: “They are scared to death of your tribe, old man.”
The Eskimo simply had to chuckle then, so the Indians saw he was
friendly; Jimmie began a long story about how he was in the service of
Omialik’s friend, Selby, and Mr. Selby had asked him to look out for
the white man and help him in every possible way.
Omialik translated this, too.
“Whoops! Help _us_!” cried Kak, laughing uproariously, flinging himself
back and giving way to all the pent mirth he had been smothering.
It really was ridiculous for Jimmie Muskrat to talk patronizingly
of helping the white man at the very moment Omialik was feeding him
and his friends. But the Indians did not see the joke. They seemed
astonished at Kak’s performance, but reassured. They liked it--laughing
people do not kill you. After a while Jimmie plucked up courage to go
on.
“And Mr. Selby said if I meet you and you know any Eskimos, will you be
a friend and introduce me to them; so that another year, when you are
not in these parts, I will be able to bring Mr. Selby among them.”
Now this was a very likely message for one white man to send to another
in that remote and unexplored country. Omialik did not doubt for a
minute that every word of the story was true. Still, it troubled him.
He had learned to love the Eskimos, a simple and good-hearted people
living simple and true lives; he not only loved them, but he admired
them greatly for their many fine qualities. Having lived also with
redskins, he knew their faults. Indians are apt to whine when anything
goes wrong; they are always ready to break a bargain; they haggle for
more pay; they are afraid to venture out of their own territory, and
when on a trip make excuses to get home by worrying about their absent
friends--in fact, they have no backbone. The Eskimos show none of
these bad traits. You do not need to scold an Eskimo to make him do
his work. Quite the other way; never having been accustomed to hard
words, even as children, Eskimos will not stand reproof at all, which
is awkward if you happen to be dealing with a lazy man; but the Kabluna
liked it better than being cross all the time. He felt unhappy about
introducing Indians to his nice Eskimos for fear they might teach them
all their bad tricks, and wanted a minute to think it over.
Omialik sat silent a long time considering, so long that Jimmie
commenced to look pretty mad. Indians are terribly touchy about their
dignity and take offense at many silly little trifles which we would
not mind at all. When the Kabluna noticed the stranger was getting
annoyed he began to talk to Kak, making it seem as if they consulted.
“Do you think your father and mother and Okak would be willing to meet
these men?” he asked.
“Meet them--where--how?” Kak was flabbergasted by the suggestion.
“In the village--if we lead them there?”
The boy answered instantly: “Okak will shoot at sight.”
“Not if I warn him first. Not if they come as guests, surely?”
To talk about receiving Indians as guests amazed the Eskimo; but he
understood from Omialik’s grave manner that the discussion was serious,
that he was being asked to speak for his whole tribe on an important
issue, so he frowned deeply and sat quiet thinking, trying to behave as
much like the Kabluna as he could.
“Will they agree to meet them?” Omialik gently pressed his question.
The boy being all mixed up in his mind spoke exactly as he felt:
“After they have met them they will agree to meet them but not before.
No--that sounds rubbish! I mean these Indians aren’t a bit like what we
think they are like. They don’t act like it, and they don’t look like
it--but of course they may be it all the time underneath.”
“What do you think they are like?” Omialik asked curiously.
“Dangerous, treacherous, bad.”
Kak did not have to ponder that answer at all, it tripped off his
tongue like a well-learned charm; but he added in justice, as his
glance traveled from one dark face to another: “They don’t look it.”
Meanwhile Jimmie and his companions had time to develop cold feet.
Seeing their proposal arouse so much argument made them think twice
about it also. They consulted, decided the adventure might prove
dangerous even under escort, and agreed to draw off.
“It is only that your friend, Selby, told me to ask you--for us, we
would as soon not,” Muskrat whined.
But his words, which were intended to excuse him, acted quite the wrong
way. Naturally Omialik liked to please his friend, a man does not have
so many friends up there in the north.
“Since Selby wants it I agree,” he added. “We will start now, camp in
the woods, and to-morrow find a place for you to lie hidden while I
arrange the interview.”
The white man had spoken and none dared to contradict. They joined
forces, traveling together many hours, during all of which time Kak
treated the strangers like comrades. But as soon as they stopped, and
the Indians withdrew to make their own camp, they became mysterious and
awful again in his imagination. He watched them moving about through
the glade; saw them pitch their tepee; saw the long shadows cast by
the midnight sun streaming over it; saw the three men enter. Then he
crept inside Omialik’s silk tent, but he did not feel like sleeping.
Impossible to forget that other camp standing a bare hundred paces
away harboring the deadly enemy! Those stories of how his people had
all been killed while they slept tormented the boy’s memory. His
nerves tingled with apprehension--he would not stoop to call the fever
fear--but all the same it drove him to suggesting that he and Omialik
might take turns on guard.
The Kabluna thought this a roaring joke. “First rate!” he laughed.
“You will be watching here, old fellow, and the redskins will be
watching in their quarters, for they are about as scared as they find
comfortable, and while you are all watching I can feel perfectly safe,
and will have a thoroughly sound sleep.”
Of course this kind of talk made Kak seem rather absurd, but it did not
entirely quiet his pulse. He knew somebody ought to watch; if Omialik
would not take turns he must just manage to stay on guard all alone.
He played foxy and pretended to go to bed, then lay awake staring at
the crack of light along the tent flap till his companion slept. The
regular breathing of a person asleep is an eerie sound even in broad
day; rising and falling through the twilight under their taffy-colored
cone, it roused all Kak’s alarm. He drew himself up to a sitting
position, grasped his knife in one hand, laid his bow ready by his
side, and steeled his nerves to combat.
If it had been dark the boy would have stayed awake all night. But
sitting up in a gloomy tent with daylight filtering underneath, making
outside seem so much safer than inside, is poor meat for romance. There
was no sound anywhere. Spruce forest straggled for miles in endless
quiet. No wind stirred the heavy boughs; no rain pattered through on
to the carpeted ground. Once a rabbit scuttled across, sending shivers
up and down the watcher’s spine, but the ruffling sound died away and
nothing happened. Gradually Eskimo fears relaxed; Kak’s mind shed its
hereditary burden; he began to wonder at himself for going against
Omialik’s advice.
“The Kabluna knows lots more about these things than I do,” the boy
murmured. He leaned over, gazing at his companion’s face; he considered
him wistfully.
Omialik looked huge lying there in the tiny tent. He was certainly
powerful. He could run fifty miles beside the dog sleigh without
resting, this man; he could kill the fiercest animals by his strong
magic--Kak had seen him do it, and had been told the gun would quite
as easily kill people. He was a Kabluna. He lived with Eskimos and was
one of them, yet he talked to Indians like a blood brother. He was a
stranger to fear--and everybody loved and served him. “What does it?”
the boy wondered. “Gee! I wish I could grow up a strong, wonderful
fellow like him.”
Kak pondered Omialik’s magic as he watched him sleeping helpless on
the ground. His hand stole over and gently touched the sleeper’s
head--a big head with its bushy mass of hair. “Omialik is so kind his
heart must be big also,” the lad mused, never guessing how his thought
impinged on the secret of the other’s power, for together great hearts
and great brains master their world.
In the dim interior forms began to dance and blur. Kak’s own head
nodded. He jerked upright and grasped his knife; but presently his
muscles slacked. He nodded again. Then the Kabluna turned on one side
and the sound of his breathing ceased. All was silent. Kak’s head
bobbed right down, his chin rested on his chest and his shoulders
sagged against the tent.
Omialik found him that way next morning, his knife grasped ready for
their mutual defense. And as the man of the big heart gazed at the
heroic youngster he decided it would not be too much trouble, some day,
to take such a faithful follower as far as Herschel Island. He kept
the plan a secret, though. Parking Indians and carrying the news home
promised sufficient excitement for the present.
Noashak waked from her long sleep demanding food, so Guninana was busy
over the cooking pot when the hunters returned.
“You will stay and eat?” she begged the white man; but all the time she
was putting choice pieces into her guest’s plate, both eyes and mind
were on her son.
It is difficult for a boy to hoodwink his mother. Guninana knew at once
something was in the wind. “What can they have been up to?” she asked
herself; but kept still and waited, sure it would not be long before
the matter leaked out.
Kak was simply bursting to tell. Never in his life had he experienced
such thrills as the waking to that day of strange companionship and
stealthy travel, culminating in the wild unreality of hiding Indians
a couple of miles from their village. Every soul he had met since
entering the camp seemed to look at him with probing eyes. “Suppose
they knew!” thought the boy, and his heart beat faster. The fact of
having seen their hereditary foe, of having spoken to Indians at all
was a great distinction, another feather to stick in his cap along with
the slain ugrug and his house-building. And on top of this, knowing
three of the terrible redskins were lying hidden among the trees so
near his own home was just too much to bear quietly.
“I’ve got a secret,” he whispered to Guninana.
“I see you have.”
“Oh, mother! Take that back. I don’t show it--I mustn’t show it!” Kak
looked very stern. Guninana eyed him curiously. “I’m dying to tell
you,” he explained, “but it is Omialik’s secret.”
“Then keep it, son. Prove you can be trusted.”
“All very well talking so ordinary--but you don’t know what a buster
of a secret this is!” the boy replied.
It was a buster. When Omialik called a family council and put the thing
before them Guninana screamed:
“Indians! Have Indians here in camp--in our tents! No. No indeed!
Don’t you think I value my children’s lives? Noashak, where are you?
Keep close to the village to-day, child, there is danger in the woods.
Kak----”
“You needn’t fuss about me,” her son answered. “I know that danger. I
know where it is--the exact spot. I’ve seen the danger. I had breakfast
with it this morning!” This was altogether too fine a chance, Kak could
not resist bragging. “Fact is,” he continued swaggering with his hands
on his hips, “it’s not nearly so dangerous a danger as you all think.”
Guninana threw up her hands.
“You tell me Indians aren’t dangerous! That you have eaten with
Indians! Taptuna, the boy is crazy. We will consult the shaman--he must
have been in the sun.”
But Taptuna took his son’s magnificence quite calmly. “No, he is only
a little excited--elated. Breakfasting with danger would make any boy
over-proud.... So many strange things are happening now it is even
possible Indians might come among us for other reasons than to kill....
Are they your friends?” he asked abruptly, turning to Omialik.
“They come from my friends.”
“What do they want?”
“To know you; to trade with you.”
“But we have never had anything to do with Indians!” Guninana broke in.
Entertaining Indians was the limit, far, far worse than being expected
to eat cloudberries. Before this Kabluna left he would have turned
their world upside down.
“That is no reason why we need not meet them now,” Taptuna mildly
suggested.
His family gazed at him in silent horror, unable to believe he actually
approved of taking such tremendous risks. Noashak had burrowed under
her mother’s arm for protection. All she understood of the talk was
that Indians lurked in the woods. Omialik sat quiet. Kak strutted in
the background. Then Okak rose to his feet. He had been struck dumb,
now he found speech. With blanched countenance and knocking knees he
faced them, but his voice rang out:
“Listen, friends. We have had no good from these red men; our fathers
had no good from their fathers. Always when we come in contact, our
tribes and theirs, it is to destroy. We have killed their kin and they
have killed our kin; and now doubtless these strangers are plotting
to kill again. They cannot come with any but evil and treacherous
intentions, for their hearts are treacherous. They flatter us by smiles
and with soft sentences while knives are hidden in their clothing. They
will trade among us, you say? Yes, they will betray us, and kill the
whole tribe out of hand when the first chance offers. I tell you--all
Indians are bad Indians.”
Okak’s terror winged his words. He felt himself the savior of his
people, delivering a solemn warning in a desperate crisis; and under
the influence of this noble emotion he made a very fine speech. The
harangue lasted about ten minutes and many families from other tents
gathered around to hear what was going on. They listened amazed; then
had to be taken into confidence. As soon as the village caught the
drift of this news hubbub broke loose. Some argued for the visit, some
against it, and some both ways at once. All went mad with excitement.
The only unchanging voices were Taptuna’s dignified support and Kak’s
persistent bragging.
When the Eskimos heard Kak had already talked with Indians, camped with
them, journeyed with them, he became a center of interest. They pressed
on him a hundred questions and he expanded marvelously, giving them all
they wanted, letting his imagination run riot. But soon, in spite of
gorgeous tales and towering adventure, the dullest of them reasoned,
“If a mere lad does such things the red men cannot be so frightful
after all.”
“Frightful! Huh, no!” cried the boy. “They’re too cowardly to be
frightful! Why, these three big fellows were afraid of me! They started
north to meet Eskimos and were scared to enter our camp after seeing
me.”
Inherited fear could not stand up under such statements. Public opinion
grew bolder. It was finally voted the Indians might come to the village
if they agreed to leave their weapons behind.
Taptuna announced the decision formally, standing where Okak had
stood. The Kabluna followed him with a short speech expressing his
satisfaction. And then he and his Eskimos and Kak set off to escort the
strangers from their hiding-place.
You would imagine, after making the original suggestion himself, and
having traveled so far for this very purpose, Jimmie Muskrat and his
friends would have been sitting with their tongues hanging out waiting
for the summons. But not a bit of it. While the villagers were debating
the three Indians had allowed their fancy to water their fears and a
huge crop was grown. Half afraid the evening before and ready to draw
out, they were now in a crazy panic, determined nothing on earth could
make them take a step toward the Eskimo camp. So they jumped as one man
on the only excuse, that condition about leaving their weapons behind.
“Why should we leave our weapons?” Jimmie demanded angrily. “It is
clear these people mean to get us unarmed among them and then to kill
us all! But I am too smart for their tricks. We are decided. We will
have no more to do with this meeting.”
Omialik began to be very sorry he had mixed up in the affair, even
to oblige his friend, Selby. He reasoned with the Indians. But they
remained all very positive and very fierce; talking a lot in loud,
angry voices.
The white man talked also. He explained to Kak and his followers how
Jimmie wanted to back out, and that he feared if the strangers did not
turn up the village would consider it a sign of treachery, would take
instant fright, and all rush away north to safety, leaving behind their
spruce boards and half-made sleds; and that Omialik would be blamed for
having brought a great loss and catastrophe on them.
His own Eskimos agreed this was exactly what would happen, but they did
not see how the situation could be saved. They were helpless.
“Dogs that won’t eat have to be made to eat,” Kak heard the Kabluna
mutter. And while he was still wondering what those strange words meant
he saw an awesome change.
Omialik’s eyes grew gray and very cold. He spoke shortly in a hard
voice. He bade his Eskimos and Kak take each an Indian by the arm and
lead him forward. And when the strangers started to resist, he raised
his gun. All knew the import of that action. It was no bluff. The
magic gun was good for killing animals--and men, red men who would not
do what Omialik commanded. Kak shivered. He saw Jimmie Muskrat quail
before his master, saw him turn meekly and lead off, his companions
following. And he knew that his friend of the big heart was one to be
obeyed.
Thus, two and two, with the Kabluna bringing up the rear, they marched
their frightened guests into the half-frightened village. But as soon
as the Eskimos saw the strangers they recovered spirit. It was as Kak
had tried to say: They would not consent to meet the Indians till they
had met them; then seeing their dreaded enemies in white man’s clothes,
quite ordinary and unlike their expectation, they lost every trace of
fear and behaved in a very friendly manner.
The village gave a splendid supper of roasted caribou heads of which
Indians and Eskimos alike are very fond, and of masu, blood soup,
and other delicacies which the visitors had never tasted; and then,
everybody having been up for hours and hours, invited them into their
tents to sleep. This the Indians flatly refused. They were afraid to
separate and trust themselves among the different families, so they
told a whopper, and claimed it was their custom to sleep on the ground
by the fire. The hosts were much too polite to contradict, though they
thought this very odd indeed. Kak knew it was a lie, still he said
nothing. The boy saw that Omialik and his Eskimos were staying with the
red men and wanted to stay also. But keeping guard most of the previous
night and playing hero most of the day had worn him out. At a word from
Guninana he gave up, went to his bed, dropped on it, and slept like a
log.
Next morning Jimmie invited the Eskimos to go down to the Indian camp
where they had smoked caribou meat and marrow-bones. Only a few of the
men, headed by Taptuna with his wife and a friend of hers, ventured to
accept; but those who did go were very glad, for the Indians treated
them royally and made a feast in one of their great lodges. After the
feast, an old slant-eye who happened to be among the company dressed up
in his ancient costume to show off. Everybody sat about conversing,
Muskrat always taking the lead while Omialik translated. Finally the
Indians bestowed some simple presents on their guests, and the party
turned homeward.
The whole village could talk of nothing else but these visits. They
all felt so glad to know the Indians were not so wicked as they had
believed. Men and women went about with light hearts, for one of the
worst dangers of their southern trips to get wood had now been removed.
They need no longer tremble at the thought of being massacred in their
beds. Everybody talked Indian with enthusiasm--everybody but Okak. He
never varied one whit from the stand he had taken in his fine speech:
The redskins were enemies--bad men; and nothing good could come of
dealing with them.
Taptuna used to laugh at his friend for this, poking fun at such
timidity. But quite suddenly, one day, he stopped laughing and poking
fun. After that when Okak began to talk about “bad Indians” the chief
scout sat by moodily making no remark, or exchanging glances with his
wife and son.
[Illustration: AN OLD SLANT-EYE DRESSED UP IN HIS ANCIENT COSTUME TO
SHOW OFF.]
The change hinged on a serious discovery. Omialik had gone down during
the summer to see his friend, Selby, who was camped below them on Great
Bear Lake, and returned with the disquieting news that Mr. Selby,
although he knew Jimmie Muskrat and his two companions, had never told
the Indian to look out for white men, nor to ask to be introduced to
Eskimos. Why, then, had Jimmie schemed to get into this settlement? Why
had he taken the northerners to his tribe? Nobody knew; nobody could
tell. The Kabluna thought it might only be for the glory of having done
something unusual. But Guninana shook her wise head. All her fear of
the treacherous enemy flowed back doubled on discovering this trick.
“From lying to murder is but a step,” she moaned. “He who deceives in
one thing is faithless in all.”
The family discussed the matter gravely in the privacy of their tent.
They argued it at length with Omialik; they deplored it alone. But all
agreed it was best not to tell Okak nor to alarm the village.
“We will be moving away from here so soon,” Taptuna said. “Let us go
quietly.”
“And let’s keep a sharp lookout before we go!” Kak added.