While the scene we have described was being enacted, the other Indians,
who had crossed the neck of land for the purpose of cutting off the men
in the kayaks, failed in the attempt, partly owing to the distance being
greater than their memories had assigned to it, and partly to the great
speed of the kayaks when propelled by strong men fleeing for their
lives.
All the kayaks were well out of gunshot range when the shore was
reached, except one which lagged behind. At this one the Indians
discharged several volleys, but without effect, and soon after, it also
was beyond range.
The little vessel which thus lagged behind belonged to the unfortunate
Gartok, whose leg, it will be remembered, was wounded by one of the
balls discharged by Alizay. Despite his energy, and desperate though
the situation was, Gartok could not overcome the depressing influence of
pain and haemorrhage. He fell gradually behind the others, each of whom
was too anxious about his own safety to think much of his comrades.
When the firing ceased and the flotilla was well out of range, Gartok
laid down his paddle and bound up his wounded limb with some scraps of
seal-skin; at the same time, hailing the kayak nearest to him. As soon
as it was discovered that their chief was wounded, all the Eskimos came
clustering round him. Among them was his lieutenant Ondikik.
"You also are wounded," said Gartok, observing the pallor of his face.
"Yes; I can find no arrow, but there is blood."
"Is it bad?" asked the chief, with an angry exclamation at their
misfortune.
"I cannot tell," replied Ondikik, "but--"
He finished the sentence in the most expressive manner by fainting dead
away, and falling over to one side so heavily that he would have
infallibly upset the little craft if his comrades had not been close at
hand to prevent that catastrophe.
"Hail the oomiak!" cried Gartok, in a voice that, for him, felt
singularly feeble. "Put him into it, and let two of the women change
with two of the men."
In a few minutes the women's large open boat was alongside, and poor
Ondikik was, with some difficulty, transferred to it. Two men then gave
up their kayaks to two of the women, and took their places in the
oomiak. While this was being done some of the people gave a shout of
alarm, for it was observed that Gartok himself had quietly fallen back
in a state of insensibility.
The men, therefore, lifted him also out of his kayak and laid him beside
his lieutenant.
This accomplished, the little fleet paddled out to sea, and they soon
lost sight of the Arctic shore. They did not again pause until they
reached a group of small islets, on one of which they encamped for the
night.
Fortunately the weather at this time was calm and warm, so that those
hardy inhabitants of the icy north required no better lodging or bed
than the cold ground, with the star-spangled sky for curtains. With
lamps flaring, seal-steaks and wild-fowl simmering, and hot oil flowing,
they quickly made themselves comfortable--with the exception, of course,
of the warlike Gartok and the hot-headed Ondikik. These two, being
fellow-sufferers, were laid beside each other, in order, perhaps, to
facilitate mutual condolence. To do them justice, they did not grumble
much at their fate, but entertained each other with a running commentary
on the events of the day.
"And that is strange news that my old mother tells me," resumed Gartok,
after a short pause in the conversation. "Cheenbuk must have given the
Fire-spouters sore heads from the way he gripped them."
"I wish I had been there," growled Ondikik.
"I'm glad I was _not_ there," returned Gartok. "I could not have saved
him from so many, and it would not have been pleasant to go into
slavery--if not to torture and death. Poor Cheenbuk! he was ever
against war--yet war has been forced on him. I fear we shall never see
him again. Hoi! my leg is bad. I can't understand how the
Fire-spouters could hit it without the little thing going through my
back first."
"I wish all the Fire-spouters were deep in the inside of a whale's
belly," growled Ondikik, whose wound was beginning to render him
feverish and rusty. "Arrows and spears can be pulled out, but when the
little spouter things go in we don't know where they go to. They
disappear and leave an ugly hole behind them."
At this point Raventik, on whom the command had devolved, came forward
with a choice piece of juicy walrus blubber on a flat stone for a plate.
"Our chiefs will eat," he said, "it will do them good--make their hearts
strong and ease the wounds."
"No," said Gartok decisively, "none for me."
"Take it away!" cried the other sharply.
"No?" exclaimed Raventik in surprise. You see, he had never in his life
been wounded or ill, and could not understand the possibility of
refusing food, except when too full of it. Being a sympathetic soul,
however, he pressed it on the invalids, but received replies so very
discouraging that he was induced to forbear.
Old Uleeta turned out to be a more intelligent, it not more kindly,
nurse. After she had eaten her supper and succeeded in bolting the last
bite that had refused to go down when she could eat no more, she came
forward with a bladder full of water, and some rabbit-skins, for the
purpose of dressing the wounds.
"Gently, mother," said Gartok with a suppressed groan, "you lay hold of
me as if I were a seal."
"You are quite as self-willed, my son," replied the old woman. "If you
had not gone out to fight you would not have come back with a hole in
your leg."
"If I had not come into the world I should not have been here to trouble
you, mother."
"There's truth in that, my son," returned the woman, as if the idea were
new to her.
At this Ondikik groaned--whether at the contemptibly obvious character
of the idea, or at ideas in general, or in consequence of pain, we
cannot tell.
"You said, mother, that Cheenbuk gave them a good deal of trouble?"
"Ay, he gave them sore hearts and sore bodies."
"They deserved it! what right had they to come with their fire-spouters
to attack us?"
"What right had you to go without your fire-spouters to attack _them_?"
demanded old Uleeta, somewhat maliciously.
Gartok, who was destitute neither of intelligence nor of humour,
laughed, but the laugh slid into a most emphatic "hoi!" as his mother
gave the leg a wrench.
"Softly, mother, softly! Treat me as you did when I was so big," he
exclaimed, indicating about one foot six between his hands.
The old woman chuckled, or rather "hee! hee'd!" a little and continued:
"Yes, Cheenbuk fought like a bear. We could not see him, for they were
all on top of him at once, but hi! how he made them heave! I wonder
they did not use their knives."
"They felt sure they had him," said her son, "they wanted to drive him
to their huts and kill him slowly to amuse their women."
This was such a horrible idea that the old woman became unusually grave.
"These Fire-spouters are worse than white bears," she said, "for these
never torture other beasts, though they often kill them."
"True, mother. Now I wish you would go away and leave my leg alone.
Ondikik there needs your help. Go to him and hurt him as much as you
please. I won't grumble."
"You were always a thankless boy--ever since you could speak," replied
the dame, reproachfully.
"Did you ever hear of any one being thankless before he could speak?--
hoi! mother, you've tied it too tight. Slack it a little."
After complying with her son's request, old Uleeta went to Ondikik, to
whom, however, she could render but little service, owing to the nature
of his wound. Then she paid a visit to Rinka, whose injuries, however,
proved to be more alarming than severe; after which she joined the rest
of the tribe at supper.
While the Eskimos were thus proceeding to their home among the islands
of the Arctic sea, the captors of Cheenbuk were paddling up-stream to
the lands of the Dogrib Indians.
At first the stout Eskimo meditated an attempt to escape. Indeed he
made one vigorous effort when they were leading him through the bush
with his hands tied behind him. Just as they came to the place where
the canoes were lying, the thought of home, and of his probable fate as
a prisoner, pressed so heavily on him that he suddenly became furious,
tripped up the man beside him with his foot, kicked over the one behind
him with his heel, ran his head like a battering-ram into the back of
the man in front of him, and then strove to burst his bonds with a
succession of mighty wriggles, but, not being quite equal to Samson, he
failed, and on seeing that two savages stood over him with drawn
scalping-knives, while Magadar put the muzzle of a gun to his head, he
deemed it wise to give in and uttered the exclamation "hoi!" with the
air of one who feels that his game is played out. He marched forward
after that in submissive silence.
On reaching the canoes, however, a fresh burst of indignation assailed
him, and for a moment he meditated sending his foot through the bottom
of the frail craft which was to carry him into exile, but on second
thoughts he decided to delay the performance of that violent measure
till they were well out in the middle of the current, when there would
be the chance of drowning some of his foes as well as himself. By the
time the desired position was reached, however, his spirit had calmed
down a little and his philosophic mind--to say nothing of his heart--had
begun to suggest the uselessness of gratifying his feelings by a revenge
which he probably could not enjoy much while in the process of drowning,
and, doubtless, could not enjoy at all after he was drowned.
Thus it came to pass that our hero restrained his passions, and, in
process of time, found himself a prisoner in one of the lodges of the
Dogrib Indians.