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.
“GOOD GRACIOUS! DON’T KILL ME!” CRIED A FAMILIAR VOICE.
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.
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.