THE OX BOUNDED DIRECTLY OVER HIS BODYTHE OX BOUNDED DIRECTLY OVER HIS BODY(See page 199)
THE OX BOUNDED DIRECTLY OVER HIS BODY(See page 199)
Had Rob started a moment sooner he would have escaped, but in his desperate haste he fell headlong, and the ox bounded directly over his body, fortunately, without touching him.
The other animals were unequal to the draught upon their courage, and diverged sharply, some to the right and the rest to the left, circling back over the plateau on whose margin Jack Cosgrove and Docak were waiting until they came within certain range.
"Fred, fire quick! my gun's unloaded!" called Rob from where he lay on the ground; "don't wait a second or it'll be too late!"
Fred did fire, sending the bullet with such accuracy that it wound up the business. Precisely the same catastrophe, described by the Esquimau to the sailor took place. The ox, coming with such desperate speed, was carried forward by its own terrific momentum. It may be said that he was dead before he could fall; he certainly was unconscious of what he was doing, for he crashed against the rocks, as if driven from an enormous catapult and then collapsed, in a senseless heap, with his flat horns smashed and broken to fragments.
Fred Warburton saw that his "turn" had arrived, and he made the most of it. Rob had been merciless to him, and he was now ready to pay him off in his own coin.
"I wouldn't lie down there, Rob," he said, gravely, "for the ground must be cold."
"It does seem rather chilly—that's a fact," replied his friend, who, knowing what was coming, slowly climbed to his feet; "I didn't think of that when I lay down."
"What made you lie down at all?"
"You see I noticed that the creature didn't mean to turn about and travel the other way as yours did; there was the difference. Then I knew, too, that he must be tired from running so hard, and it struck me as a kind thing to do to serve as a rug or carpet for him."
"You did so, and no mistake. If I'm not in error," continued Fred, with a quizzical expression, "I heard you call out a minute ago something about my hurrying up and firing so as to save your life."
"I say anything like that! What put such an idea in your head? It must have been the echo of your voice, when you were running away from the ox that was running away from you."
And Rob assumed an expression of innocent surprise that would have convinced any one else than Fred of his mistake.
"It is singular, but no doubt I am in error," said he, resignedly. "It must have been some one else that sprawled on the ground, and begged me to shoot quick or he was a goner; it must have been another vaunting young man, who looked up so pityingly, and was too scared to try to get on his feet until I shot the ox for him, just as I did the polar bear, when another minute would have finished him; but I'd like to see that other fellow," added Fred, looking around, as if in quest of him.
"I'll help you search," said Rob, in the same serious manner; "and as soon as I run across him I'll introduce you two. You'll be congenial to each other. Until then suppose we let the matter rest."
"I won't promise that," returned Fred, following up his advantage; "it depends on whether certain other matters are referred to."
Rob now laughed outright and offered his hand, which his friend readily took.
The words were uttered hurriedly, for it was hardly the time or place for conversation. The popping of rifles was renewed from another part of the plateau, and several other musk oxen had tumbled to the ground. A half-dozen survivors managed to get it through their heads that they had enemies on both sides, and, seeing an opening, they plunged through it and were seen no more.
The boys devoted some minutes to inspecting the two animals that had fallen by the rifle of Fred Warburton. They were a couple of the largest specimens of their kind, but the description already given renders anything like a repetition unnecessary.
Although it was the favorable season of the year, the youths detected a slight musky odor exhaling from the bodies, which was anything but pleasant.
Docak and Jack were observed approaching across the plateau. Both were in high spirits over the success that had marked this essay in hunting the musk ox, and the Esquimau assured them that despite the odor to which they objected, he would furnish them with one of the best suppers they had ever eaten. The lads, however, could not feel quite assured on that point.
It may as well be stated in this place that the spot where the animals were shot was about thirty miles inland from the home of Docak, and a great many leagues south of Upernavik, the most northernmost settlement on the Greenland coast. It is beyond this quaint Arctic town, in the neighborhood of Melville Bay, that the musk ox has his truehabitat. There, although the animals are diminishing in number, he may be found by any one who chooses to hunt for him.
The fact that Docak had met them so far south was extraordinary, and, up to the previous year, he had never known of such a thing, nor did he believe there were any besides this particular herd within hundreds of miles of the spot, nor that they were likely ever to be seen there again.
It took our friends two days and a part of a night to reach this portion of the Arctic highlands. They had looked for foxes, reindeer, ptarmigan, hares, and other game on the way, but failed to run across any game until they came upon the musk oxen. Had not the Esquimau been thoughtful enough to bring a lunch of cold fish, they would have suffered from hunger. As it was, all felt the need of food, and the prospect of a dinner upon the game at their feet was inviting, indeed.
The Esquimau would not have bothered with the cooking had he been alone, but, out of deference to his friends, he prepared to make a meal according to their tastes.
Inasmuch as so much game had been bagged, they could afford to be choice. They cut the tongues from the animals, together with some slices from the tenderest portion of their bodies, and had sufficient to satisfy all their appetites and leave something over.
No better place for camping was likely to be found than these hills, but a shelter was desirable, and Docak set out to lead the way further among them. His manner showed that he was familiar with the section, for he did not go far before he came upon the very place for which Fred Warburton longed when making his desperate flight from the bull that he supposed was at his heels.
It was a cavern among the rocks, as extensive as his own living room at home, and approached by an entrance, which if not so extended as his own entry, was of still less dimensions, causing them to stoop and creep for part of the way.
"Me be here 'fore," said he; "like de place?"
"I should say we did," replied the pleased Rob, echoing the sentiments of his friends; "but we shall need some fuel to cook the food and keep warm, and wood isn't very abundant in this part of the world."
"We git wood," was the rather vague reply, whose meaning was not understood until they had penetrated into the cavern, which was lightened by a crevice on one side of the entrance. This permitted enough daylight to enter to reveal the interior quite plainly. It took the boys a few minutes to accustom their eyes to the gloom, but when they did so they were no less pleased than surprised at what they saw.
That which the astonished visitors looked upon was a pile of wood at one side of the cavern big enough to build a roaring fire that would last for hours. This place must have formed the headquarters of Docak when indulging in the occasional hunts that are anything but popular among the coast natives.
The Esquimau did not carry lucifer matches with him, but, on the other hand, he was not forced to use the primitive means common among savages. He possessed a flint and tinder such as our forefathers used and are still popular in some parts of the world.
But Rob and Fred did not exhaust their supply of matches in trying to scorch the bear steak on the iceberg, and when everything was ready to start the blaze they did so with little trouble. The smoke bothered them at first, but it gradually wound its way through the opening, so that breathing became quite comfortable.
Docak cooked the tongues with a skill born of long experience. There was just the faintest trace of musk, but not enough to interfere with the vigorous appetites, which could afford to disregard trifles. The meal proved to be what he had promised—one of the most grateful they had ever eaten.
There was a good deal left after the supper was finished, and this was laid aside for future contingencies, since the experience of their approach to this spot taught them to be prepared for an extended deprivation of food. Indeed, the native Esquimau sometimes goes for days, apparently with no craving in that direction, though it must be there all the same. When he finally secures nourishment, he stuffs prodigiously—so much so indeed that a civilized person would die of gluttony. He calmly waits, however, until able to hold a little more, when he resumes cramming the food down his throat, keeping it up until at last he is satisfied. Then he sleeps, hour after hour, and, on waking, is ready to resume his frightful gormandizing.
By the time the meal was finished the long Arctic night began closing in. Looking through the crevice on the side, and the entrance, they saw that the day was fast fading. The air was as clear as crystal and very cold. The boys had no extra garments to bring with them, but Docak, despite his cumbrous suit, carried the fur of a polar bear that he had shot a couple of years before. This was not only warm, but had the advantages over many pelts of being vermin proof.
When traveling over the snow Docak had a way of using this extra garment, like a shawl, so that his arms were free. It was now spread upon the solid rock, and, though it was not extensive enough to wrap about the forms of the four, it furnished a couch for all, as they lay with their bodies near together, and it was most welcome indeed.
It might seem that our friends ran an imprudent risk in venturing this far from the coast without snow-shoes; for, in the event of a thaw, the work of traveling the thirty miles would tax their endurance to the utmost. The snow was several feet deep on a level, and was drifted in places as high as a house. Who could make his way through instead of over this?
But all misgivings on that score were ended by Docak telling his friends there would be no thaw for days, weeks, and, perhaps, not for months. It was more likely to be the other way.
The surface, as I have intimated, was as easily walked upon as the floor of a house. So long as it remained thus there was no need of snow-shoes or anything like artificial help.
The fire made it so cheerful and the warmth was so pleasant that it was decided to keep it going for an hour or two, and then let it die out after they fell asleep. There would be considerable fuel left for morning, and the blaze was not really necessary, unless the weather should take one of those appalling plunges during which a red-hot stove seems to lose all power.
As was Docak's custom, when staying in an inclosed place like this, he sauntered out doors before lying down to slumber, in order to take a look at the weather and the surroundings. The life of the Esquimaux makes them wonderfully skillful readers of impending changes of temperature. Signs which are invisible to others are as intelligible to them as the pages of a printed book to us.
The native remained absent a considerable while, until his friends began speculating as to the cause.
"Maybe he has caught sight of another of those musk oxen, and wants to bring him down," suggested Rob.
"There is no call to do that when so many of them lie on the frozen ground, where they will keep for months unless the wolves find them."
"They'll be pretty certain to do that," continued Rob; "but then he may have caught sight of a bull, and both may want to try a race by starting in opposite directions and seeing which can travel first around the world."
"That would be a sight worth seeing," Fred hastened to say, "unless he fell down and bawled for some one to come to his help, after firing his gun and missing the game by about a rod."
Jack Cosgrove looked wonderingly at his young friends, puzzled to know what this curious talk meant. To him there was no sense in it. Rob and Fred thought they had ventured as far upon forbidden ground as was prudent, so they veered off.
While they were talking Docak reappeared. His feet were heard on the crust of the snow for several seconds before he was visible, for there was no call to guard against noise.
As he straightened up in the cavern he stood a moment without speaking. Then, stepping to the wood, he threw a number of sticks on the blaze, causing an illumination that made the interior as light as day.
Jack was better acquainted with the native's moods than the boys could be expected to be, and the first sight of the honest fellow's countenance by the added light told him he was troubled over something. Evidently he had made some unpleasant discovery.
"He'll let me know what it is," concluded the sailor, deeming it best not to question him; "I can't imagine what would make him feel so uneasy, but he's got something on his mind—that's sartin."
Docak was on the point of speaking more than once, but some impulse led him to close his lips at the moment the all-important matter was about to become known. He probably would have kept it to himself altogether had not a question of Rob given him an opportunity too inviting to be resisted.
"Which course will we take to-morrow, Docak?"
"Dat way—we trabel fast as can, too."
The astonishment of the three may be understood when they saw him point directly toward his own home—that is, in the direction of the seacoast, and over the course they had just completed.
Their purpose when they set out was to penetrate at least double the distance in the interior, and now he declared for a withdrawal.
Not only that, but the manner of the native proved that he considered the crisis imminent, and that no time was to be lost in carrying out his unexpected decision.
Jack knew him so well that he was right in deciding that his hesitancy of manner was caused by his doubt whether he should insist upon his friends starting at once, or allow them to defer it until morning.
"What's the trouble, Docak?" asked the sailor, now that the subject was broached; "I never saw you look so scared—"
At that moment the dismal cry of a wolf reached their ears, quickly followed by others. The gaunt creatures that seem born ravenously hungry, and always remain so, had scented the rich feast that awaited them on the plateau, and were hurrying thither from all directions. Soon nothing would be left but the bones of the game brought down by the rifles of the hunters.
Rob and Fred naturally concluded the moment these sounds were identified that it was because of them the native was frightened, he having discovered them before the rest; but Jack knew it was from some other reason. He saw nothing alarming in the approach of a pack of wild animals. The four were well armed, they had a fire, were in a cavern, and could stand off all the wolves in Greenland for a time at least.
"No, it isn't that," muttered the sailor; "but if he doesn't choose to tell I sha'n't coax him."
Within the following fifteen minutes it seemed as if a thousand wolves had arrived on the plateau, and were fighting, feasting, snarling, and rending the bodies of the musk oxen to fragments. They were far enough removed from the cavern for the inmates to hear each other readily, while discussing the curious occurrence.
The boys could not contemplate a visit from the ravening beasts with the indifference of their companions. To them it seemed that the brutes would be rendered ten-fold fiercer by their taste of blood, and would not stop until they had devoured them.
"Do you think they will visit us?" asked Rob of Docak.
The latter was standing in the middle of the cavern, in the attitude of listening. He nodded his head, and replied:
"Yes—eat ox—den come here."
"If that is so I think we ought to prepare for them," suggested Fred, who shared the nervousness of his friend.
"How can we prepare more than we're prepared now?" asked Jack; "they've got to come in that opening one at a time, and it will be fun for us to set back here and pick 'em off."
"Provided they don't crowd in so fast that we can't do it."
"With four guns, I reckon we oughter take care of ourselves."
"Dere fire, too," remarked the Esquimau, jerking his head in the direction of the flames.
"Ah, I forgot that," said Rob, with a sigh of relief, recalling the dread which all animals have of fire. Indeed, he felt certain at the moment that the burning wood would prove far more effective than their weapons in keeping off the wolves.
It would be supposed that the bodies on the plateau were enough to keep the brutes occupied for a long time, and to afford them a meal sufficient to satisfy them for the night; but who ever saw a wolf when not ravenously hungry? They howled, and snarled, and fought, and pressed around the carcasses in such numbers that, when only the bones remained, it may be said that their appetites were but fairly whetted, and they were more eager than ever after additional prey.
Fully a score, in their keenness of scent, had been quick to strike the trail of the surviving musk oxen that had fled from the hot fire of the hunters. The scent was the more easily followed since a couple of the animals had been wounded, and there can be little doubt that all fell before the ferocity of their assailants, though the musk ox makes a brave fight ere he succumbs to those cowardly creatures.
Darting hither and yon, with their pointed snouts skimming over the ground, it was not Long before several struck the footprints of the party that had taken refuge in the cavern. A dozen or, perhaps, a score would not have dared attack them had they not been inflamed by the taste of food already secured. As it was, they were aroused to that point that they were ready to assail any foe that could help to satisfy their voracity.
"Here they come!" exclaimed Rob Carrol, springing to his feet, with rifle ready.
"Yes—dey come—dat so."
While the native was speaking he stood motionless, but with inimitable dexterity brought his gun to a level, and, apparently without any aim at all, let drive into the pack crowding toward the entrance to the cavern.
No aim was necessary, for the wolves pressed so close that no one person could fail to bring down one at least of them.
Amid the snarling and growling rang out a single sharp yelp, which proved that some member of the pack was "hit hard." Whether struck mortally or not made no difference, for the moment blood appeared upon him his comrades fell upon him with unspeakable ferocity and tore him limb from limb.
The shot had the effect, too, of driving them away from the entrance for a brief while, but they speedily returned, crowding so far forward that their eyes, lank jaws, and noses showed plainly in the reflection of the firelight.
It was evident that the shot of the Esquimau produced no permanent effect upon them. It may have been, indeed, that they wished for a second that it might afford them the pretext for feasting upon another of their fellow-citizens.
But the fire was burning brightly, and they dreaded that. So long as it was going and the hunters kept close to the flame, they were safe against the fangs of the wolves.
"That's too good a chance to be lost," remarked Rob, discharging his rifle among the animals.
Fred was but a moment behind him, so that two, if not more, of the brutes were slain and afforded an appetizer for the rest. Docak had lost no time in ramming another charge into his gun, while Jack Cosgrove held his fire, as if expecting some emergency, when a quick shot was likely to be necessary.
"It don't strike me as a good thing for all our guns to be empty at the same time," was his sensible remark, "so s'pose we take turns in banging into 'em."
"Dat right—dat good," commented the Esquimau, and the boys promised to follow the suggestion.
The scene at this time was striking. Looking toward the entrance to the cavern, nothing could be observed but the fronts of the fierce animals, all fighting desperately to get at the opening, all eager beyond expression to reach the serene hunters within, but restrained by the glowing fire beyond, to which they dared not go.
Quick to note their dread of this element, the boys became more composed, though both could not help thinking how it would be if there were no fire. The fuel if judiciously used was sufficient to last until daylight, by which time the courage of the brutes would ooze away to that extent that they would be likely to withdraw.
But the party could not spend all their time in the cavern, and, if attacked on the open plain, it would require the hardest kind of fighting to beat off their assailants.
"But what is the use of speculating about the future?" Rob asked himself, as, seeing that it was his turn, he drove another bullet among the brutes, doubling up one like a jack-knife, while his comrades proceeded to "undouble" him in the usual style.
"Suppose," said Fred, "we should keep this up until we killed a hundred, wouldn't the rest have enough to eat by that time?"
"No," replied Jack, who had seen the animals before; "the rest of 'em would be as hungry as ever after eating 'em. You may keep the thing going till there is only two left, and then shoot one of 'em; the other will gulp him down in a dozen mouthfuls, and then lick his chops and whine for more."
Docak looked at his friend and grinned at this graphic illustration of the voracity of the lupus species.
However, it was quite clear that our friends were wasting a good deal of ammunition, which might be needed before their return. So they seated themselves on the floor of the cavern near the fire, that was kept going with moderate vigor, and exchanging a few words now and then as the turmoil permitted, they sent a shot into the pack, when some of the foremost ventured to thrust their snouts too far into the cavern.
"If they only had sense enough to combine into one rush," said Fred, "they could wipe us out in a twinkling."
"That's just what they would do if it wasn't for the fire," was the reply of his friend; "but it does seem to me that they must get tired after awhile."
"I can't detect any signs of it yet. Let me try something."
Catching a brand from the fire, Rob whirled it about his head until it was fanned into a roaring blaze, when he hurled it right among the howling horde.
The scampering that followed was laughable. In a second or two not a wolf was visible, and only the smoking torch lay on the ground where it had fallen just outside the entrance.
It was expected they would soon return, and some of them did sneak back within a short distance, but the smoldering brand was a terror to them so long as it held any life, and they waited until it was utterly extinguished before venturing closer.
Meanwhile, Docak showed such disquiet and concern over something else that Jack Cosgrove, well knowing it must be serious, determined to force him to an explanation, for he had racked his brain in vain to think what grisly dread was looming in front of them.
Docak, the Esquimau, had no wish to affect any mystery as to the cause of his misgiving. He had not mentioned it of his own accord, because he was debating in his mind which of two courses to adopt: to remain longer in the cavern or to set out at once for his home on the coast. It may be said that except for the appearance of the wolves he would have insisted that the start should be made without delay, and pushed with the utmost vigor until their destination was reached.
But this was not to be thought of under the circumstances. To venture outside the cavern was to invite an instant attack by the brutes who were in that state that they possessed a daring foreign to their nature.
Docak explained that an alarming change of weather was at hand. He knew the signs so well that there was no mistake on his part. As he had promised, it was not in the nature of a thaw or rising temperature, but may be explained by that expressive word with which the reader is familiar—blizzard.
Whoever has gone through one of those frightful visitations will never forget it. That one of a few years ago was so general throughout our country that the memory must remain through life with us.
But a blizzard in the Arctic regions is a terror, indeed. It meant in the present instance a snowstorm that might last for days, a hurricane of wind, and a temperature of such fearful cold that would consume almost like fire.
With several feet of snow on the surface of that which now covered the ground, and too fine to bear the weight of the lightest animal, with the air white with billions of particles, eddying, whirling, and flying hither and thither, so that one could not see a step in advance—with the gale careering like a demon across the snowy wastes—the strongest hunter might well shrink from attempting a journey one-tenth of that which lay between them and the coast.
When Jack suggested that Docak might be mistaken, he shook his head so decisively that it sent a chill through the boys, who were watching his dusky countenance and listening to his words. Such a man spoke that whereof he knew. He would hold out hope, if he had justification for doing so, but he saw none.
That the blizzard was at hand, that it was already careering from the far North and must speedily arrive, was as good as demonstrated. The only chance that Docak saw was that it might prove of shorter duration than he feared. If it should last no more than twelve or possibly twenty-four hours, they might struggle through it, without serious consequences, but if beyond that (as he was almost certain it would be), there was little hope.
However, since they must stay where they were until the following morning, preparations were made for spending the night, which, it will be borne in mind, was by no means as long as many which they have at certain seasons in the high latitudes.
It was decided that Rob should sit up until midnight and then awake Fred, who, after standing guard for several hours, would arouse Jack to take charge until daylight. Inasmuch as this was the Esquimau's own proposition, which, as will be perceived, relieved him of duty for any part of the night, the others understood its significance. He was reserving himself for the time when there was likely to be more urgent need of his services.
No comment was made on the fact, and the simple preparations were quickly finished. Docak added a caution to his friends that they should be as sparing as possible in the use of the fuel. They had already consumed a moiety of it, and the approach of the blizzard would render it valuable beyond estimate. Enough only to hold the wolves at a safe distance was to be burned.
Thus it came about that an hour later Rob Carrol was the only one awake in the cavern. The others were huddled together on the bear skin, quietly sleeping, while he kept off drowsiness by pacing slowly back and forth over the brief space within.
"It's getting colder," he said to himself more than once; "I had a hope that Docak might be wrong, but he isn't; we shall catch it within a few hours. This is a bad place to be snowed up."
He glanced continually toward the entrance, for he could not forget the wolves which were the indirect cause of their coming peril. They seemed, in spite of the disgusted remarks of Jack, to have become satisfied that nothing was to be gained by hovering about the refuge. So many of their comrades had fallen, and the fire burned so persistently, that the others must have felt a certain degree of discouragement.
Now and then a howl echoed among the desolate hills, with a strange power, and was immediately answered by scores from as many different points, but there was no such eager crowding as marked the first appearance of the brutes. Rob glanced repeatedly at the opening without seeing one of them.
But the youth was too wise to be caught off his guard. He allowed the fire to smolder until the figures of his friends were only barely visible in the gloom, and his own form became shadowy, as it slowly moved back and forth over the floor of the cavern, with his rifle ready for instant use.
He heard a soft tip tipping on the snow, and there was no mistaking its meaning.
"They're there," he said, peering outward in the gloom and listening intently, "and are as watchful for a chance as ever."
Turning toward the crevice which admitted light, and was too straight to allow the smallest wolf to pass through, he caught the glow of a pair of eyes.
They were motionless, and the wolf evidently was studying the interior with a view of learning the prospect for an excursion within.
The temptation to fire was strong, but the eyes noiselessly vanished before the gun could be brought to a level.
Rob stood intently listening. He heard the stealthy footsteps pass along the side of the cavern toward the front, and he moved in that direction, but placed himself at one side, so as to be out of sight of any one looking directly into the mouth. He had not long to wait, when the same keenness of ear told him that the brute was cautiously entering. The fire was smoldering lower than ever, the brand at the entrance had died out long before, and no one could be seen on guard. The brute must have made up his mind that he had "struck it rich." In his selfishness he did not summon his friends to the feast, but resolved to devour the four persons all by himself, and that, too, after having had his full share of the musk ox and his fallen friends!
There was just enough light in the cavern for Rob to note everything. Being at one side of the entrance, he could not be detected by the sneaking brute, which also was invisible to him. He must come further forward before they could discern each other.
The wolf, one of the largest of his species, stood just outside with his ears pricked, his head raised, and his eyes roaming over the interior. Everything looked promising, but he had learned to be suspicious of those bipeds, whose hands were always against them.
He stood in this attitude for several minutes, as stationary as if carved in stone. Then he lifted one of his fore-feet, held it suspended, as though he were pointing game, and then advanced a couple of steps. This brought him far enough into the cavern for the lad to see the end of his nose, but the beast still failed to detect that shadow at one side of the entrance that was calmly awaiting the critical moment.
But he saw the dimly outlined forms near the smoldering fire, and licked his chops in anticipation. Nothing could be more favorable for the grandest feast of his life.
THE WOLF LICKED HIS CHOPS IN ANTICIPATIONTHE WOLF LICKED HIS CHOPS IN ANTICIPATION(See page 232)
THE WOLF LICKED HIS CHOPS IN ANTICIPATION(See page 232)
At that moment a howl rent the air at no great distance. It must have startled this prowler, and told him that, if he delayed his meal any longer, he must share it with an unlimited number.
He started on a silent walk, straight for the forms, heedless of the figure that had pointed the rifle at him, while he was yet out of sight. All was like the tomb until the gun was fired. Then since the muzzle almost touched the brute, why—enough has been said.
By daybreak, when all the party were awake, the blizzard foretold by the native had fully arrived.
It was a terror, indeed. The cold was frightful, and the air outside was white with snow, which was driven horizontally by the hurricane, as though shot from the mouths of myriad pieces of ordnance. It shrieked about the cavern, and drove the white particles so fiercely through the narrow crevice that Docak hastened to shove his bear-skin into it. This only partially filled the opening and the snow spun in around it clean across the flinty floor.
The regular entrance was partly protected by its own projection, but, at times, a blast entered that fairly took away their breath. The fire was necessary to keep from freezing, but the supply of fuel was growing low, and the last stick must soon be reached. What then would be the fate of the party if the blizzard continued?
It was useless to discuss the future and no one did so; the present was with them, and the question was how to live from hour to hour.
On shooting the intruding wolf, Rob had flung his carcass away. The report awakened the others, and, rising to his feet, Docak passed far enough outside to bring it in again. He did not speak, but all understood the meaning of the action; that body might be the means of saving them from starvation.
Enough of the previous night's meal remained to afford a nourishing breakfast, but they partook sparingly, preferring to use that in preference to the new supply. Happily thirst was a torture that need never be apprehended.
Jack Cosgrove braved the blast to that degree that he forced himself through the opening and stood several minutes outside, shading his eyes and striving to pierce the blinding turmoil.
All in vain. The gale almost carried him off his feet, and his vision could no more penetrate the furious swirl of snow than if it were the darkest night that ever covered the earth. The cold was so piercing that he was glad to hasten back among his friends, and shiver and crouch over the fire.
"By the great horned spoon, Docak! s'pose we had started for home last night?"
"Wish had," was the sententious response.
"Why, we wouldn't have been half-way there by this time, and we would have perished all together."
"We trabel fast—mebbe storm not dere yet."
This intimation that the blizzard might be less terrific at so slight a distance was incredible, but the Esquimau was positive that it would have been far better had they set out early in the evening. By rapid traveling they might have covered the greater part of the distance before morning, and could have fought the few remaining miles in the teeth of the gale.
But it was equally useless to discuss what might have been. They were imprisoned in the cavern, thirty miles from succor and with no possibility that any friends would ever take the trouble to search for their bodies. All they could do was to rely upon Heaven and their own exertions.
Without any explanation as to his intentions, and leaving his gun behind him, the native plunged through the opening and disappeared in the blizzard outside.
Born and reared in Greenland, amid Arctic snows and appalling tempests, the hardy Esquimau was far better fitted to undergo such trials of endurance than could be any native of a temperate clime.
"Where do you suppose he has gone?" asked Rob, wonderingly.
"I don't know," replied Jack; "but if he goes far he'll never come back again."
"It doesn't seem to me," said Fred, coming to the question of the present for the first time, "that the outlook is as bad as he would make us believe."
"Why not?"
"We have enough food to last a week or two, or even longer, and the blizzard certainly won't keep it up that long."
"You can't be sartin about that," said Jack; "it may last for several weeks, but s'pose it's only for three or four days, there are two big things that we must face."
"What are they?"
"What to do after it stops; the snow will be several feet deep on top of that which is now on the ground; it will be too fine and soft to bear our weight, and can be traveled over only with snow-shoes which we haven't got. How then are we going to fight our way thirty miles through it?"
"It will be a hard job, but no greater than that which many explorers have undergone. With Docak as our guide, I think we can pull through."
"But what is the other matter you refer to?" asked Rob.
"This wood will soon go, and then how are we going to keep from freezing to death?"
"If we will huddle together as closely as we can with the bear-skin wrapped about us I think we can stand it."
"I like the way you chaps talk," said the sailor, admiringly, "and if we have to go down we'll do so with colors flying. It's the downheartedness of Docak that knocks me askew; if he would show a braver front I would feel better."
"Possibly he is more hopeful than he pretends."
"No, he isn't that sort of chap; he knows better than we just what all this means. Whew!"
The exclamation was caused by a sudden outburst that sent the snow whirling through the opening and the crevice, from which the bear-skin dropped, as if struck a blow from the other side. Jack ran forward, picked it up, and thrust it back, hardly able to breathe from the fury of the gale in his face.
The snow shot through the opening, too, scattering the brands of fire in every direction. Had the shelter been anything else excepting the solid rock that it was, it must have been swept like chaff from its foundations.
The explosion, as it may be called, lasted but a minute or so. The boys hastily gathered up the scattered brands and flinging them together they were fanned by the tempest into a vigorous flame, whose warmth, slight as it was, was grateful beyond measure to the three gathered around it.
"Docak is wrong in regretting that we did not start last night," said Jack Cosgrove; "that style of storm is raging at this moment over hundreds of miles, and it would have made short work of us."
"What about the 'Nautilus,' if she is in it?"
"She can manage it if she has plenty of sea room, but I hope she is far enough off to dodge this blizzard. She ought to be at any rate."
The gale did the party an unexpected favor. It was a substantial one, too, which they appreciated. It drove the snow against the troublesome crevice with such fury that it quickly formed a solid bank, extending far above it. This ended the drifting of the particles inside and protected them from the cutting wind.
At the same time it did something of the same nature with the entrance, where it soon became banked to that extent that little blew within, and the gale hardly disturbed them.
Seeing what had taken place, Jack withdrew the bear-skin from where it had been stuffed into the opening and spread it in the farthermost corner of the cavern.
"Come, my hearties," said he, cheerfully, "we've got nothing to do but to make ourselves comfortable. We won't burn any more wood till Docak comes back."
They huddled together, and, though the cold made their teeth chatter and their bodies shiver, they found considerable relief and were willing to hope on.
They could feel no anxiety about the absent native. It was certain he would not go far enough from the cavern to endanger his safety or to imperil his return. Some definite object must have led him forth.
"I wonder if it is for food," suggested Fred.
"No; for there's no possibility that the wolves left anything," replied Rob; "and then, too, we have enough to last a good while."
At that moment there was a flurry at the entrance and the Esquimau, resembling a snow man, stooped and pushed his way in.
Entering, he flung a half-dozen small sticks upon the tiny pile at the side of the cavern. He had gone forth in quest of fuel and was able to secure only that miserable supply, really not worth taking into account.
The Esquimau's depression continued. After flinging down the few bits of wood he looked across the cavern to where the friends were huddled together, but did not speak. Then he glanced at the crevice, now so completely blocked with snow that they were protected against any more drifting in upon them.
The three respected his silence, and held their peace. He stood a minute or two, looking gloomily into the fire, which he replenished, partly from the scant supply he had brought. While it was gaining strength he drew his knife, deftly cut a number of pieces from the frozen body of the wolf, and proceeded to cook them over the blaze. Had he been alone he would have devoured them raw, but he knew the sentiments of his companions.
"Well, Docak," said Jack, feeling that the silence ought not to continue, "it looks as if we are in for a long stay. We shall have enough to keep us alive a good while, and, when you're ready, you can come and snuggle down beside us."
"Not now," he replied, continuing his culinary work, with what seemed a wasteful disregard of fuel until he was through.
When nothing more remained worth attention he held up a piece, considerably scorched, and, looking at the others, asked:
"Eat now?"
"No; we'll wait till morning," replied Rob, speaking for the rest.
"All right."
But he was not disposed to wait if they were. He made quite a meal, with as much evident enjoyment as if it had been upon the choicest part of the musk ox. He took care, however, to leave a good supply against the "rainy day" that he felt no doubt would come to them all.
The dismal day wore slowly away, and with a feeling of unutterable loneliness they saw the second night of their enforced stay in the cavern close around them. The cold seemed to intensify with the approach of darkness, and the supply of wood had grown so slight that the warmth was barely perceptible.
The blizzard raged with unabated fury. The gale shrieked around the rocks, the blinding snow whirled and eddied until it seemed that it must bury them out of sight, and the outlook was woeful enough to chill the bravest heart. The three in the corner adhered to their resolution not to eat any of the food prepared before the morrow. They might need it then to aid their systems in withstanding the terrific strain, but, as in the case of the bear on the iceberg, it must be the last resort.
The Esquimau declined their invitation to join them in the corner. He was thickly clad, and was so accustomed to the rigors of the Arctic winter that he needed no such help. He seated himself near by, and talked a little, until, at a late hour, troubled sleep settled over all.
A gleam of hope came with the break of day. Docak was the first to awake, and, without disturbing the others, he forced his way through the entrance and took a survey of the weather and his surroundings.
The blizzard was over. The fall of snow had ceased, little wind was stirring, but the cold was terrible. Toughened as he was, he shrank when first exposed to it. The party had been walled in so tightly that the warmth of their bodies was of more help than would be suspected.
Quick to note the change in the weather the native studied the sky with its numerous signs in the effort to learn what was likely to come in the near future.
Great as was his skill at this it was now taxed to the utmost. The sun was not visible, and the difficulty became the greater; but he tarried until he had perfected his theory.
The discouraging feature which the native saw about the matter was that the blizzard had ceased for a time only. He believed it would soon resume its fury, fully as great, if not greater than before, and it might continue for days and possibly weeks. If, when that time should come, it found them in the cavern they were doomed beyond the power of mortal man to save themselves.
But the prospect was equally hopeless, if the lull lasted only a few hours, for, when it should break forth again it would overtake them in the open plain (provided they made the start he had in mind), where no screen against its resistless power could be secured.
It should be understood that Docak's solicitude was on account of his friends. Had he been alone he would not have hesitated to set out for the coast, and with every reason, too, to believe he could make it, even, if the battle of the elements were renewed when but a small part of the way thither.
But he had three others in charge, and it was hard to decide whether to urge them to make the attempt now or wait awhile, in the hope that he could settle with certainty the extent of the cessation of the blizzard.
The additional snow was between two and three feet deep, where it had not been drifted by the gale. With the help of snow-shoes it would have been an easy matter to skim over it, but there were no snow-shoes to be had, as has been shown, the new fall was of such fine character that they would sink its full depth when essaying to walk upon it.
When he turned about and re-entered the cavern his friends were astir. Their appetites had assumed that edge that they eagerly attacked some of the meat prepared the night before. The few embers had been stirred into a sickly blaze, but not another stick remained. The warmth was only perceptible when the chilled hands were held almost against it.
The Esquimau smiled grimly when he saw what they were doing, but with the reticence that had marked his course since refuge was taken in the cavern, he held his peace. Jack greeted him pleasantly, and he nodded in return, and then again passed outside.
The sailor and lads had peeped after him, and discovered that the fall of snow was over, and the wind was not blowing. This gave them considerable hope, inasmuch as they were unable to read its full meaning like the native.
"It's easy enough to see what he has on his mind," remarked Jack.
"What is it?" queried Rob.
"He is considering whether we shall make a start now for the coast or wait awhile longer."
"What's the use of waiting," asked Rob, "when it can't be any better and may grow worse? The snow that has fallen will stay where it is for months, so we can gain nothing there. I'm in favor of starting for home while it is yet morning."
"That's the way it strikes me, but he'll make up his mind, and whatever he says we'll do. He isn't in the mood to take any advice from us; I never seed him so glum before."
"We're quite well protected," added Fred, who was eager to be off if that should be the decision; "we have the thickest kind of clothing, heavy shoes, and warm undergarments. Then we mustn't forget that when we start through the snow the labor will help to warm us. Fact is, I don't understand why Docak hesitates."
The Esquimau used less time than they supposed in reaching his conclusion. But, with a view of giving him a hint of their wishes, Jack and the boys prepared themselves as if it had been settled that they should venture at once upon the perilous attempt. They carefully adjusted their clothing, tying the lower parts of their trousers about their ankles, so as to keep out the snow, buttoned their heavy coats to their chins, pulled up the collars more carefully, and fixed their caps in place, though all this had been done to a certain extent before.
When nothing remained they ranged themselves in a row beside the entrance and awaited the appearance of their guide.
He came in the course of a few minutes. He started slightly when he read the meaning of it all.
"We're ready," said Jack, with a smile.
"All right—we go—foller me—come on!" and he led the way out, and they turned their backs on the cavern forever.
A fearful task confronted the little party. Thirty miles of snow, several feet deep, lay between them and their only haven of refuge, and they were without sled or snow-shoe. If they succeeded in their prodigious task, it must be done by sheer strength and the power of continued desperation.
But, with compressed lips and the resolution to do or die, they bent to the work without faltering.
The Esquimau naturally took the lead to break the way so far as he could; Jack Cosgrove came next, then Rob Carrol, while Fred Warburton brought up the rear.
The first move that the native made proved he was a veteran. He plunged in, following the decline down to the plateau, which was the scene of their adventures two days before. He walked like one who had only an ordinary tramp before him. In truth, he could have gone faster and done better, but he accommodated himself to his friends, to whom the labor was new and trying to a degree.
None spoke for a long time. It requires strength to do even so slight a thing as that, and no one had an ounce to spare. The question that was uppermost in the minds of the three was whether they would be able to hold out to the end.
"I don't see why we can't," reflected Fred, who, being at the rear, had an easier task than any of the others; "it would be well enough if we had snow-shoes, but neither Jack nor Rob nor I can use them, and we would flounder around a good deal worse than we are doing now and likely enough wouldn't get ahead at all."
The meditations of Rob Carrol were of a similar strain.
"I've seen better fun than this, but it beats staying in the cavern and freezing to death on wolf steak. I believe I'm strong enough to see the business through; I hope Fred won't give out, for he isn't as strong as Jack and I. I believe Docak enjoys it. Gracious! if I ever live to get out of this outlandish country, I'll never set foot in it again. I haven't lost any North Pole, and those that think they have can do their own hunting for it."
The sun still remained obscured, and the wonder of the three was how their guide kept his bearings, after debouching from the highlands and entering upon the broad, undulating plain which stretched away to Davis Strait and Baffin's Bay. There was no misgiving, however, in that respect. Docak could not go astray, or, at least, if there was any likelihood of his doing so, not one of his friends was able to help him.
As the boys had anticipated, the labor of walking in this difficult fashion soon generated a warmth in their bodies that was a vast comfort, after sitting benumbed and shivering so long in the cavern. Despite the extreme cold they felt no discomfort, for the air was quite dry, and less trying, therefore, than a damp atmosphere would have been, even though twenty-five degrees higher.
But it is in such an Arctic climate that one can have his limbs or a portion of his body hopelessly frozen without suspecting it. All were so effectually protected that only a small portion of their faces, their eyes, and tips of their noses were exposed.
The bear-skin, which has been referred to as belonging to Docak, was carried by him after his usual manner. He would have offered it to his friends in turn, had he not known that it would soon have become a burden which he could carry better than they.
Jack, who trod close on the heels of the Esquimau, was admiring the sturdy manner in which he plowed through the snow, his labor being much greater than any one of those who followed him, when the native turned his head and scanned his face with curious intensity. Pausing for the moment in his labor, he leaned to one side, and did the same to the others. His act was all the more singular since he did not speak. The lads smiled under their head-coverings, but their faces were so wrapped up that the relaxation of the features could not be perceived.
"I wonder why he did that," thought all three.
"The chap has been acting curious ever since this trouble began," continued the sailor, "and I wouldn't be s'prised if he's just a little off."
"Can it be," asked Rob, following up a whimsical idea, "that he fears we aren't ourselves? He has started out to take us to the seacoast, and doesn't mean that anybody else shall rope himself in on him. I guess he's satisfied, though we're so covered up that our nearest friends wouldn't know us."
For fully an hour the party toiled on, and all, with the exception of the leader, began to feel the effects of the severe exertion. Still, no one protested or asked for rest; each determined to keep it up, if possible, until the leader chose to halt.
But Docak did not forget them. At the end of the time named he turned about, and, with something of his old pleasantry, said:
"Much tired—wait while—den go on."
Each of the boys longed to ask him what he thought of the prospect of getting through, but forebore, recalling his moodiness, which might be still upon him despite his present manner.
"I think we're doing quite well, Docak," said Jack; "it's a little hard, but we can take a breathing spell now and then, and keep at it till we strike your home."
Had the Esquimau made any response to this half-inquiring remark the sailor would have followed it up, but he did not. On the contrary, he was busy studying the sky and the surrounding landscape, doubtless with a view of determining what weather changes impended.
The others did the same, but though Jack had learned a good deal of the science at sea he was now at a loss. The dull, leaden sky, so obscured that it was impossible to tell in what part of the heavens the sun was, told him nothing beyond the fact that more snow was likely to fall before many hours.
As the best thing that could be done, the friends studied the actions of the Esquimau.
The result of his survey was not satisfactory—that was clear. He shook his head and muttered something in his own language, which had anything but a pleasant effect on the others.
The scene was one of utter loneliness and desolation. North, east, south, and west stretched the snowy plain, unrelieved by tree, house, or sign of a living creature. Far up in the sky sounded the honk of some wild fowl, and, looking aloft, a line of black specks could be seen, sailing swiftly southward through space, as if to escape the Arctic cold that would soon smother everything in its icy embrace.
The rest was barely ten minutes, when Docak, looking at his companions, asked:
"Be rested? We go on?"
"Yes; we're ready," replied Jack.
"All right—work hard now—don't get tired."
"I won't, if I can help it; but the only way I know of is to stand still, which don't pay in this kind of business."
The Esquimau bent to his work, as if striving for a wager. He had a way not only of stepping down in the soft snow, but of shoving it partly aside from his path. It would have been the severest kind of labor for anyone else, and it is hard to understand how he managed it so well. It was a great help to the one immediately behind him. Jack would have been glad to lighten the task for the boys, but that was out of his power, and he wasted no strength in the attempt.
The party was becoming accustomed to the work. That the guide was aware of this was proven when he kept at it fully twice as long as before. They were going slowly—very slowly—but there was comfort in the consciousness that every step taken was toward safety, and the task before them was lessened, even to that small extent.
At the moment the boys were beginning to think it about time another halt was called, Docak stopped in his former abrupt way, and, leaning to one side, peered into each face in turn.
Something in Fred's appearance caught his attention, and, with an exclamation, he sprang out of the path, and hurried back to where the lad stood, wondering what was the matter with the fellow.
Docak, when flurried, generally forgot his broken English, and spoke in his own tongue. Before Fred could divine his intention he had slipped off one of his mittens, grasped a handful of snow, and throwing one arm about the boy's neck, began rubbing his nose as though he meant to rub it out of existence.
The watchful native was on the watch for the first sign of freezing in the case of his companions, and, discovering that the youngest member was becoming a victim without himself or friends suspecting it, he resorted to heroic measures, with no unnecessary delay.
Fred understood what it all meant, and, like the sensible boy he was, submitted with good grace, though the vigorous handling to which that organ was subjected made it hard for him to keep from protesting. Not only that, but, when the Esquimau, pausing to inspect his work, said:
"All right," Fred thanked him.
Jack and Rob, who looked grinningly on, while the performance lasted, now asked Docak whether they were in need of a similar manipulation. He took another look at the faces, and gave Rob's a slight rubbing, but said nothing more was needed.
It was a piece of thoughtfulness on the part of the native, for which he deserved to receive gratitude. But for him Fred Warburton, and probably the others, would have suffered injuries from which they never could have recovered.
Having rested but a brief while, Docak moved on, and the dismal procession wound its way slowly through the snow, which clogged their feet and obstructed their path to that extent that more than once the hardy guide had to come to a full halt that he might decide in what way to flank the obstacle.
The blizzard had played fantastic tricks with the snow. In many places it was drifted to a depth of six or eight feet, through which, as may be supposed, it was the severest labor to force a path. In others, again, it had swept the crust entirely clear of the new layer, so that they walked as easily as when making their way from the coast. Unfortunately, these bare places, as they may be called, were not only few and far apart, but of such slight extent that their aid counted for little.
There is nothing more cheering than the certainty that we are approaching our goal, even though the rate of progress is more tardy than we wish. As the afternoon drew to a close Fred was positive they had made fully twenty miles. Rob believed it was more, but, to be on the safe side, fell in with his friend's figures. When Jack was appealed to he declined to hazard a guess, saying he preferred to wait till the halt for the night, when he would leave it to Docak.
"He'll tell you within a quarter of a mile," added the sailor, "and he won't make a mistake. I can let you know one thing, howsumever, my hearties, and that is that you'll find it a good deal less than you think."
"I don't know about that," said Rob; "Fred and I have calculated the matter pretty closely."
"You may think so, but you haven't. We have worked hard enough to tramp a hundred miles, but we haven't been able to use it in the best way."
Another fact, which might mean a good deal or little, was that a marked moderation in the temperature took place in the course of the afternoon. What this portended was left to the Esquimau to determine. Toiling through the snow was not favorable to conversation, and it was dropped.
With only short halts the party pushed onward, until night began settling over the dreary landscape. They would have kept on had not the darkness been impenetrable. The sun had not shown itself during the day, and the obscurity was so dense that not a solitary star twinkled overhead.
"Besides," as the boys concluded, "the rest of the distance is so brief that we can afford to leave it until morning, by which time we will be fully rested. Inasmuch as it is necessary to pass a night on the road, one spot is as good as another."
Camping at such times is simple. They were in the middle of a snowy waste, without tree or rock to shelter. Starting a fire, of course, was out of the question. A slight wind was blowing, and though less rigorous than that of the preceding night, it was necessary to protect themselves from its force while they were idle.
For a few minutes Docak acted like a man seized with convulsions or the St. Vitus' dance. He leaped about, kicked, and swung his arms, the snow flying in a storm from him, until, at the end of a few minutes, he had scooped out a bowl-like space, large enough to hold the party. In doing this he cleared the way down to the lower crust only, which was strong enough to bear their weight. To have dug to the ground would have been too laborious, and no special advantage was to be gained by doing so.
This completed, he carefully spread his bear-skin on the hard surface, and the four seated themselves back to back. They had camped for the night.
The discomforts of this primitive method were less than would be supposed. There is warmth in snow, as you are well aware, cold being a negative existence, and, so long as they were below the surface, they could not be reached by the wind that swept across the dismal waste. Then, too, the change in the temperature was in the right direction as affecting their comfort, so there was little fear of suffering before morning.
When they were adjusted for the night, Rob asked the question of Docak which had been in his mind for hours:
"How far have we got toward home?"
Fred was confident the answer would be twenty miles; while Rob was quite hopeful it would be more. Judge, therefore, their consternation when the reply struck their ears:
"Purty near ten mile—not quite—purty near."
The hopes of the boys sank to zero. Jack, knowing they had placed their estimate too high, still believed it greater than was the fact.
Ten miles! Barely a third of the distance between the cavern and the first place that could offer refuge.
They had used a day in advancing thus far. At that rate two more days, and possibly nights, remained ere the terrible task would be ended. They had eaten the last mouthful before starting, leaving behind some food which they might have brought, but which was not deemed necessary.
It was not the prospect of hunger that appalled them. In such a severe climate they could go a couple of days without food, and not suffer greatly, though the draught upon their strength would be trying to the last degree.
The great question was whether the task they had essayed was a possible one. Recalling the terrific exertions of the day, their exhaustion, and the repeated rests that were necessary, they might well doubt their ability, though it need not be said there was no thought of giving up so long as life and strength held out.
"Ten miles," repeated Fred Warburton; "are the Esquimau miles the same as our English, or aren't they double their length?"
"I don't know about that," said Rob; "they must get their ideas from the Danes, who have a system of measurement different from ours, but it don't matter in this instance."
"Why not?"
"When we set out, and after reaching the hills, Docak told us we were thirty miles from home; he tells us now that we are ten miles less."
"Not quite ten mile—purty near," interrupted the native.
"Well, calling it ten miles, we have come about one-third of the way to the coast. No matter what system of measurement is followed we can't figure out that we have gone further than that."
"And not quite that far," suggested Jack, who was not less disappointed than they, but was quicker to rally.
"It isn't the thing calculated to make a chap feel good to learn a thing like that," he added; "but all we've got to do is to buckle down to it and we'll get there one of these days, with fair sailing and no more squalls."
"It is those squalls or blizzards, Jack, that are the real danger before us."
It was Rob who made this remark, and his friends knew he spoke the truth.