While Nazinred, under the influence of strong affection, was thus
fighting with the unfamiliar difficulties and dangers of the polar sea,
Cheenbuk and his Eskimo friends were enjoying life in what may be called
their native element.
"Will Adolay come for a drive?" said our gallant Eskimo one day when the
sun had risen near enough to the eastern horizon to almost, but not
quite, extinguish the stars. "We go to seek for walruses."
The Indian maiden was sitting at the time in the snow residence which
belonged to Mangivik. Mrs Mangivik was sitting opposite to her mending
a seal-skin boot, and Cowlik the easy-going was seated beside her,
engaged with some other portion of native attire. Nootka was busy over
the cooking-lamp, and old Mangivik himself was twirling his thumbs,
awaiting the result of her labours. Oolalik was there too--he was
frequently there--courting Nootka in the usual way, by prolonged silent
staring. The process might have been trying to some women, but Nootka
did not mind. Like many young damsels, she was fond of admiration, and
could stand a good deal of it, no matter how peculiar the mode in which
it was expressed.
"I don't care to go," said Adolay, with a sigh.
Cheenbuk did not repeat the invitation or press for a reason. He was a
considerate as well as a gallant youth. He knew that the poor girl was
pining for her parents, and that she regretted having left them--even
although remaining in her native village might have involved her being
wed against her will to the hated Magadar, or subjected to his
persecutions during her father's absence. Cheenbuk did his best to
comfort her with the assurance that he would take her back to her home
with the very first of the open water. But when Adolay began to realise
what a very long time must elapse before the ice would reopen its
portals and set the waters free, her heart sank and she began to mope.
"We may as well have some women with us," remarked Oolalik, with a
pointed glance at Nootka, but Nootka took no notice of either the
observation or the glance. Even Eskimo girls understand how to tease!
"Will Cowlik go?" asked Cheenbuk.
"Yes." Cowlik smiled, and was quite ready to go.
"No, she won't," said Mrs Mangivik, with a positiveness almost European
in its tone.
"Very well." Cowlik smiled, and was equally ready to remain.
Mangivik himself expressed no opinion on the subject, but twirled his
thumbs faster as he expressed a hope that the cooking would be soon
completed.
It was finally arranged that only young men should go, with sledges and
teams of dogs to fetch the meat home.
The little town in which this scene was being enacted was composed of
between twenty and thirty whitey-brown bee-hives of snow, of the usual
shape, ranged on the ice near the shore of a large island. The scene
presented was a lively one, for while some of the inhabitants were
creeping into the small tunnels which formed as it were porches before
the doors, others were creeping out. Men and dogs were moving about--
the former harnessing the latter to sledges in preparation for the
approaching hunt, while hairy little balls of children were scampering
about in play, or sitting on the tops of the snow bee-hives, watching
the proceedings with interest.
The Eskimo sledge is a contrivance of wood capable of accommodating five
or six men, and usually drawn by a team of from six to ten dogs, each
dog being fastened to it by means of a separate line of tough
walrus-hide. In a short time the long-lashed, short-handled, powerful
whips cracked, the teams yelped, the men shouted, and away they all went
with much noise over the frozen sea.
After a short run the parties separated and went in different
directions. Cheenbuk and his men drove in a southerly direction. Soon
they came to a place which had been kept open by walruses as a
breathing-hole. Here they got out, hid the sledge and dogs behind a
hummock, and, getting ready their spears and harpoons, prepared for an
encounter. After waiting some time a walrus thrust its ungainly head up
through the young ice that covered the hole, and began to disport itself
in elephantine, or rather walrusian, gambols.
Tiring of this in a few minutes, it dived, and the natives ran to the
edge of the hole to be ready when it should come up again. The animal
was a female, and a small one. When it re-appeared harpoons and lances
were at once driven into it, and it was killed almost immediately. This
is not always the result of such an encounter, for this elephant of the
polar seas is naturally a ferocious brute, and when bulls are attacked
they are prone to show fight rather than take fright.
Leaving the young men to skin and cut up the meat, Cheenbuk went on,
with only Anteek to keep him company, in search of another
breathing-hole.
"You must harpoon the next one all alone, and kill him without help,"
said Cheenbuk to his companion soon after they had started.
"I'll try," returned the boy, with the air of confidence befitting a
knight who had already won his spurs, yet with the modesty of a youth
who was aware of his fallibility.
But Anteek was not destined to distinguish himself that day, for, about
three miles beyond the place where the walrus had been slain, they came
across a track so singular that, on beholding it, they were stricken
dumb with surprise.
Stopping the dogs, they gazed at it for a few moments in speechless
wonder.
"I am not an old man," said Cheenbuk at length in a solemn tone, "but I
have seen most of the wonderful things in this world, yet have I never
seen a track like that!"
He pointed to the track in question, and turned a look of blazing
inquiry on Anteek.
"And I am not an old boy," returned the other, "but I too have seen a
good many of the wonderful things of this world, yet have I never even
dreamed of the like of that!"
It will doubtless strike the reader here, as an evidence that Eskimos
are under similar delusions to the rest of the human family, that these
two referred to that world of theirs as equivalent to the world at
large!
"What can it be?" murmured Cheenbuk.
"The very biggest bear that ever was, come to frighten the wisest people
that ever lived, out of their wits," suggested Anteek.
The face of the elder Eskimo underwent a sudden change, and an
intelligent expression flitted over it as he said--
"I know now--I remember--I guess. You have often heard me talk of the
Fire-spouters, Anteek? Well, the snow where they live is very deep and
soft--not at all like the snow here, except when our snow is
new-fallen--so that they cannot travel in the cold time without great
things on their feet. That,"--pointing downward--"must be the track of
those great things, and there must be a Fire-spouter not far off."
"Perhaps a number of Fire-spouters--a war-party," suggested Anteek,
becoming excited.
"I think not, for there is only one track."
"But they may have walked in a row--behind each other."
"That is true. You notice well, Anteek. You will be a good hunter
soon."
He stooped as he spoke, to examine more carefully the track, which was
indeed none other than that made by the snow-shoes of Nazinred on his
weary and well-nigh hopeless journey over the frozen sea.
"Look here, Cheenbuk," cried the boy, whose excitement was increasing.
"Is there not here also the track of a dog, with a strange mark on each
side of it, as if it were drawing two lines as it went along?"
"You are right again, boy. There is here the track of a dog, but there
is only one man. Come, we will follow it up."
Jumping on the sledge again, the Eskimo cracked his whip and set the
dogs off at full gallop.
For some time they advanced, looking eagerly forward, as if expecting
every minute to come in sight of the man and dog who had made the
tracks, but nothing appeared for some hours. Then they arrived at the
three huts where the Indian had received such a disappointment on
finding them deserted. A close examination showed that the stranger had
spent a night in one of them, and, from various indications, Cheenbuk
came to the conclusion that he had been much exhausted, if not starving,
while there.
Getting on the sledge again, he continued to follow up the trail with
renewed diligence.
They had not gone far when an object was seen lying on the ice not far
ahead of them.
Anteek was first to catch sight of it, and point it out to his
companion, who did not speak, but let out his lash and urged the dogs
on. As they approached, the object was seen to move, then there came
towards them what sounded like a prolonged melancholy howl.
"The dog is alive," whispered Anteek.
"I hope the man is--but I fear," returned his comrade.
In a few moments more they were alongside, and the dog started up with a
snarl as if to defend its master, who was lying motionless on the ice;
but the snarl was feeble, and the poor beast was obviously in a state of
exhaustion.
"He is not dead," said Cheenbuk, putting his hand over the Indian's
heart, while Anteek caught poor Attim by the nose and held him gently
back.
It turned out as the Eskimo had said. Nazinred was not dead, but he was
very nearly so, and it is probable that another hour of exposure and
inaction would have ended the career of both himself and his dog.
He had walked on persistently until that peculiar feeling of an
irresistible desire to lie down and sleep overcame him. No one knew
better than himself the danger of his condition, yet the fatal lethargy
is such that no resolution is sufficient to overcome it. Lying, or
rather falling, down, he had remained still for a few moments--then the
state of quiet, but deadly repose had supervened and he would never have
risen again if succour had not been sent.
As it was, the Eskimos set to work with tremendous energy to chafe and
resuscitate him, but it seemed at first that they were too late. By
dint of untiring perseverance, however, they became successful. A
slight effort to exert himself was observable in the Indian, and then,
getting him on his feet, Cheenbuk on one side and Anteek on the other,
they forced him to stagger about until vitality began to revive.
"Now, boy, we'll get him into the sledge, and away back to the igloes."
Without delay they led Nazinred to the sledge, rolled him in a large
white bearskin, and tied him on. While thus engaged Anteek observed
that Cheenbuk gazed for a few moments intently into the Indian's face,
and then became much and strangely excited.
"Is he going to die?" asked the boy anxiously.
"No, it is not that--but--but, I have seen this Fire-spouter before. I
know him! Quick, we _must_ save his life!"
If the life of Nazinred had depended on the speed of the Eskimo dogs
there would have been much hope of it, for Cheenbuk made them fly like
the wind until he regained the three igloes. As for Attim, having, with
prompt sagacity, perceived that the strangers were friendly, he resigned
himself to his fate. Indeed, his master had, in a dazed sort of way,
adopted the same course, and willingly submitted to whatever was done to
him.
Arrived at the deserted huts, the Indian was allowed to lie in his white
bearskin until the Eskimo had kindled a lamp, cooked some food, warmed
some water, and prepared a comfortable couch. Then he went out to
unlash the sleeper.
"Now, Anteek, I'm going to send you away, and will expect you to be
quick and act like a man. Drive the sledge back to where we killed the
walrus. Let the men pack the meat on it and away back to our igloes.
It is not far. You will soon get there if you make the dogs yelp. When
you have arrived, and told your story, get a fresh team of dogs, and two
men, and come back here with a little meat and some more bearskins--and
do it all, boy, as fast as you can."
"I will," answered Anteek in a tone and with a look of decision that
were quite satisfactory.
It was difficult to rouse the Indian at first so as to get him to
stagger into the snow-hut, and he was more than half asleep all the
time, insomuch that when inside he fell down on the couch prepared for
him, and again sank into profound slumber.
Then Anteek started up, jumped on the sledge, and set off for home at
full speed.