While these events were taking place among the islands of the Arctic
sea, the Indian chief Nazinred was slowly pushing his canoe southward in
the direction of Great Bear Lake. He was accompanied, as we have said,
by three like-minded comrades, one of whom was named Mozwa--or
Moose-deer--from some fancied resemblance in him to that uncouth animal.
But Mozwa, although uncouth, was by no means ungenial. On the contrary,
he was a hearty good-natured fellow, who always tried to make the best
of things, and never gave way to despondency, however gloomy or
desperate might be the nature of his circumstances. Moreover, he was a
big strong man, full of courage, in the prime of life, and modest
withal, so that he was usually rather inclined to take than to give
advice--to be led, rather than to lead.
For hours together these men dipped their paddles over the side in
concert, without uttering a single word, or giving more than a slight
exclamation when anything worthy of notice attracted their attention.
The interchange of thought during the labours of the day did not seem to
strike them as necessary. The mere being in company of each other was a
sufficient bond of sympathy, until an encampment was reached each
evening, supper disposed of, and the tobacco-pipes in full blast. Then,
at last, their native reserve gave way, and they ventured to indulge a
little--sometimes a good deal--in the feast of reason and the flow of
soul.
Yet the nature of their voyage was such that white men might have deemed
verbal intercourse an occasional necessity, as their route lay through
much rugged and wild scenery, where the streams up which they had to
force their way were in some places obstructed by rapids and shallows,
and a mistake on their part might have brought sudden disaster and ruin.
For their canoe was deeply laden with the furs which they had secured
during the labours of the past winter, and on the sale of which to the
fur-traders depended much of their and their families' felicity or
misery during the winter which was to come. But the steersman and
bowman understood their work so well, and were so absolutely in accord,
that the slightest action with the paddle on the part of either was
understood and sympathetically met by the other.
This unity of action is much more important than the navigators of lakes
and oceans may suppose. In those almost currentless waters a steersman
in any craft is usually self-sufficient, but among turbulent rapids,
where rocks and shoals lie in all directions, and the deep-water track
is tortuous, with, it may be, abrupt turnings here and there, a bowman
is absolutely essential, and sometimes, indeed, may become the more
important steersman of the two.
One evening, long after the period when they left their native
encampment, the friends paddled their little vessel into the backwater
at the foot of a long rapid which roared in foaming white billows right
ahead of them, offering what seemed an effectual barrier to their
further progress--at least by water--and as the sides of the gorge
through which the river rushed were almost perpendicular, without margin
and with impenetrable bush everywhere, advance by land seemed equally
blocked.
Looking backward, Mozwa gave his friend an interrogative glance.
Nazinred replied with an affirmative nod, and, all four dipping their
paddles vigorously at the same moment, they shot out into the stream.
Almost before the canoe was caught by the current it swung quickly into
another eddy, which carried it up a few yards close under the frowning
cliffs. Here again the Indians paused, and gazed earnestly at the
foaming torrent ahead, which, to an unpractised eye, might have seemed a
raging flood, to enter which would ensure destruction.
And indeed the two guides seemed to entertain some such thoughts, for
they continued to gaze for a considerable time in silent inaction. Then
the bowman threw back another glance; the steersman replied with another
nod, and again the canoe shot out into the stream.
This time the struggle was more severe. A short distance above the
point where they entered it, a large rock reared its black head in
mid-stream. Below it there was the usual long stretch of backwater. To
reach the tail of this stretch was the object of the men, but the
intervening rush was so powerful that it swept them down like a cork, so
that they almost missed it despite their utmost efforts.
"Almost," however, is a hopeful phrase. They were not quite beyond the
influence of the eddy when they reached the end of the tail. A
superhuman effort might yet save them from being swept back to the point
far below that from which they had started. Mozwa was just the man to
make such an effort. Nazinred and the others were pre-eminently the men
to back him up.
"Ho!" cried Mozwa.
"Hoi!" shouted Nazinred, as they bent their backs and cracked their
sinews, and made the big veins stand up on their necks and foreheads.
A few seconds more and the canoe was floating under the shelter of the
black-headed rock, and the Indians rested while they surveyed the
battleground yet before them.
The next reach carried them right across the river to a place where a
long bend produced a considerable sweep of eddying water, up which they
paddled easily. Above this, one or two short bursts into the tails
caused by nearly sunken rocks brought them to a point full half-way up
the rapid. But now greater caution was needed, because anything like a
miss would send them downward, and might hurl them with destructive
force against the rocks and ledges which they had already passed. A
birch-bark canoe is an exceedingly tender craft, which is not only
certain of destruction if it strikes a rock, but is pretty sure of being
swamped if it even grazes one.
With the utmost care, therefore, and consummate skill, they succeeded in
pushing up the rapid, inch by inch, without mishap, until they reached
the last shoot, when their skill or good fortune, or whatever it was,
failed them, for they missed the last eddy, were swept downwards a few
yards, and just touched a rock. It was a very slight touch. A boatman
would have smiled at it; nevertheless it drew from the Indians "ho's!"
and "hoi's!" such as they had not given vent to since the voyage began.
At the same time they rushed the canoe, with all their strength, for the
nearest point of land.
They were scarcely a minute in reaching it, yet in that brief space of
time their craft had almost sunk, a large piece of the bark having been
torn from its side.
The instant they touched land the two leaders stepped quickly out, and,
while they held the craft close to the bank, their comrades threw out
the bundles of fur as fast as possible. Then the canoe was turned over
to empty it, and carried up the bank.
"That is good luck," said Mozwa quietly, as they stood looking at the
large hole in the canoe.
"I have seen better luck," remarked Nazinred, with something that might
almost have been mistaken for a smile on his grave countenance.
Mozwa did not explain. Nazinred knew that the luck referred to was the
fact that before the accident occurred they had surmounted all the
difficulties of the rapid, and that the place on which they stood was
convenient for camping on, as well as for opening out and drying the
furs on the following day. And Mozwa knew that Nazinred knew all that.
While the latter kindled a fire, arranged the camp, and prepared supper
under a spreading tree, the former mended the canoe. The process was
simple, and soon completed. From a roll of birch-bark, always carried
in canoes for such emergencies, Mozwa cut off a piece a little larger
than the hole it was designed to patch. With this he covered the
injured place, and sewed it to the canoe, using an awl as a needle and
the split roots of a tree as thread. Thereafter he plastered the seams
over with gum to make them water-tight, and the whole job was finished
by the time the other men had got supper ready.
Indians are in the habit of eating supper in what may be styled a
business-like manner--they "mean business," to use a familiar phrase,
when they sit down to that meal. Indeed, most savages do; it is only
civilised dyspeptics who don't. When the seriousness of the business
began to wear off, the idea of mental effort and lingual communication
occurred to the friends. Hitherto their eyes alone had spoken, and
these expressive orbs had testified, as plainly as could the tongue, to
the intense gratification they derived from the possession of good
appetites and plenty of food.
"I think," said Mozwa, wiping his mouth with that familiar
handkerchief--the back of his hand--"that there will be trouble in the
camp before long, for when you are away that beast Magadar has too much
power. He will try to make our young men go with him to fight the
Eskimos!"
It must not be supposed that the Indian applied the word "beast" to
Magadar in that objectionable and slangy way in which it is used among
ourselves. Indians happily have no slang. They are not civilised
enough for that. Mozwa merely meant to express his opinion that
Magadar's nature was more allied to that of the lower than of the higher
animals.
"Yes, and Alizay will encourage him," returned Nazinred, with a frown.
"The man is well-named."
This remark about the name had reference to the word Alizay, which means
gunpowder, and which had been given to the Indian in his boyhood because
of his fiery and quarrelsome disposition.
"The geese and the ducks are in plenty just now," continued Nazinred; "I
hope that he and Magadar will be more taken up with filling their mouths
than fighting till I return--and then I can hinder them."
"H'm!" responded Mozwa. He might have said more, but was busy lighting
his pipe at the moment. Nazinred made no further remark at the time,
for he was in the full enjoyment of the first voluminous exhalation of
the weed.