_In Which Teddy Brisk Confronts the Pack Alone and Cracker Leads the
Assault_
By this time the sun was touching the cliffs of shore. It was a patch of
struggling white light in the drear gray colour of the west. It would
drop fast. In his punt, in summer weather, wondering all the while at
the acceleration of this last descent, Teddy Brisk had often paused to
watch the sun fall and flicker out of sight. It had seemed to fall
beyond the rim of the world, like a ball.
"She tumbles through the last foot or two!" he had determined.
In a little while the sun would be gone. Now the sky was overcast and
scowling. In the east it was already dusk. The cloudy black sky in the
east caught no light from the feeble sun. Presently everywhere it would
be dark. It had turned colder too. The wind from the north was still
blowing up--a nipping gray wind which would sweep the floe and hamper
the manipulation of the little pan towards which the naked Billy
Topsail was striving.
And the wind lifted the dry snow and drove it past Teddy Brisk's feet in
swirling wreaths. The floe was smoking, the boy thought. Before long the
snow would rise higher and envelop him. And he thought that when Billy
reached the little pan, and stood exposed and dripping in the blast, he
would be very cold. It would take a long time, too, to haul the little
pan across the lane of water.
It will be recalled that Teddy Brisk was ten years old. He stood alone.
He knew the temper of the dogs. Billy Topsail was out of reach. The
burden of fear had fallen on the boy--not on Billy. The boy had been in
a panic; yet he was not now even afraid. Duty occupied him. He had no
time for reflection. The hazard of the quarter of an hour to come,
however, was clear to him. Should he fail to keep off the dogs through
every moment of that time, he would be torn to death before Billy could
return to his rescue.
Should Billy Topsail fail to reach the pan--should Billy go down
midway--he would surely be devoured.
And Billy Topsail was no swimmer to boast of. Teddy knew that. He had
heard Billy tell of it. Billy could keep afloat--could achieve a slow,
splashing progress.
That was true. Billy's chance of winning the pan was small. But Teddy
was Labrador born and bred. What now commanded his fear was Billy's
orders to duty. Obedience to a skipper was laid on all men. It must be
instant and unfailing in an emergency. Billy was in command. He was
responsible. It was for the boy to obey. That was the teaching of his
habitat.
Consequently Teddy Brisk's terror yielded and he stood fast.
When Billy began to strip, the dogs were disturbed. What was the man up
to? What was this? Queer proceeding this! It was a trick. When he stood
naked in the wind the dogs were uneasy. When he went into the water they
were alarmed. They withdrew. Cracker and Smoke ran to the water's edge
and stared at Billy--keeping half an eye on the boy meantime. It
troubles a dog to see a man in the water. Smoke whined. Cracker growled
and crouched to leap after Billy. He could easily overtake and drown
Billy.
Teddy went at Cracker and Smoke with his club.
He screamed at them:
"Back, you, Cracker! Back, you, Smoke!"
The dogs responded to this furious authority. They scurried away and
rejoined the others. Teddy taunted them. He laughed at the pack,
challenged it--crutch under his left arm and club swinging in his right
hand. He taunted the dogs by name--Cracker and Smoke and Tucker. This
bewildered the dogs. They were infinitely suspicious. The boy hobbled at
them in a rage, a few feet forth--the seal-leather line round his waist
limited him--and defied them. They retreated.
When Teddy returned to the edge of the field they sat regarding him in
amazement and renewed suspicion. In this way for a time the boy kept the
dogs at a distance--by exciting their surprise and suspicion. It
sufficed for a space. The dogs were curious. They were entertained. What
was strange in the behaviour of the quarry, moreover, was fearsome to
the dogs. It indicated unknown resources. The dogs waited.
Presently Teddy could devise no new startling gestures. He was never
silent--he was never still; but his fantastic antics, growing familiar
and proving innocuous, began to fail of effect. Something
else--something out of the way and unexpected--must be done to distract
and employ the attention of the dogs. They were aware of Billy Topsail's
absence--they were cunning cowards and they would take advantage of the
opportunity.
The dogs began to move--to whine and circle and toss their heads. Teddy
could see the concerted purpose take form. It was as though they were
conspiring together. He was fully aware of what impended. They were
coming! he thought; and they were coming in a moment. It was an attack
agreed on. They were to act as a pack.
They advanced. It was tentative and slow. They paused.
They came closer. Teddy brandished his club and reviled them in shrill
screams. The dogs paused again. They crouched then. Cracker was in the
lead. The boy hated Cracker. Cracker's white breast was touching the
ice.
His head was thrust forward. His crest began to rise.