"Good, good," remarked the old chief, flinging the walrus rib at an intrusive dog with signal success, "I am glad to hear you say that, because I may want their help."

Amalatok showed one symptom of true greatness—a readiness to divest himself of prejudice.

"For what do you require their help, father?" asked Chingatok.

Instead of answering, the old chief wrenched off another walrus rib from its native backbone, and began to gnaw it growlingly, as if it were his enemy and he a dog.

"My father is disturbed in his mind," said the giant in a sympathising tone.

Even a less observant man than Chingatok might have seen that the old chief was not only disturbed in mind, but also in body, for his features twitched convulsively, and his face grew red as he thought of his wrongs.

"Listen," said Amalatok, flinging the rib at another intrusive dog, again with success, and laying his hand impressively on his son's arm. "My enemy, Grabantak—that bellowing walrus, that sly seal, that empty-skulled puffin, that porpoise, cormorant, narwhal—s-s-sus!"

The old man set his teeth and hissed.

"Well, my father?"

"It is not well, my son. It is all ill. That marrowless bear is stirring up his people, and there is no doubt that we shall soon be again engaged in a bloody—a useless war."

"What is it all about, father?"

"About!—about nothing."

"Huk! about Nort Pole—nothing," murmured Chingatok—his thoughts diverted by the word.

"No, it is worse than Nort Pole, worse than nothing," returned the chief sternly; "it is a small island—very small—so small that a seal would not have it for a breathing-place. Nothing on it; no moss, no grass. Birds won't stay there—only fly over it and wink with contempt. Yet Grabantak says he must have it—it is within the bounds of his land!"

"Well, let him have it, if it be so worthless," said Chingatok, mildly.

"Let him have it!" shouted the chief, starting up with such violence as to overturn the cooking-lamp—to which he paid no regard whatever—and striding about the small hut savagely, "no, never! I will fight him to the last gasp; kill all his men; slay his women; drown his children; level his huts; burn up his meat—"

Amalatok paused and glared, apparently uncertain about the propriety of wasting good meat. The pause gave his wrath time to cool.

"At all events," he continued, sitting down again and wrenching off another rib, "we must call a council and have a talk, for we may expect him soon. When you arrived we took you for our enemies."

"And you were ready for us," said Chingatok, with an approving smile.

"Huk!" returned the chief with a responsive nod. "Go, Chingatok, call a council of my braves for to—night, and see that these miserable starving Kablunets have enough of blubber wherewith to stuff themselves."

Our giant did not deem it worth while to explain to his rather petulant father that the Englishmen were the reverse of starving, but he felt the importance of raising them in the old chief's opinion without delay, and took measures accordingly.

"Blackbeard," he said, entering the Captain's hut and sitting down with a troubled air, "my father does not think much of you. Tell him that, Unders."

"I understand you well enough, Chingatok; go on, and let me know why the old man does not think well of me."

"He thinks you are a fool," returned the plain spoken Eskimo.

"H'm! I'm not altogether surprised at that, lad. I've sometimes thought so myself. Well, I suppose you've come to give me some good advice to make me wiser—eh! Chingatok?"

"Yes, that is what I come for. Do what I tell you, and my father will begin to think you wise."

"Ah, yes, the old story," remarked Benjy, who was an amused listener— for his father translated in a low tone for the benefit of his companions as the conversation proceeded—"the same here as everywhere— Do as I tell you and all will be well!"

"Hold your tongue, Ben," whispered Alf.

"Well, what am I to do?" asked the Captain.

"Invite my father to a feast," said Chingatok eagerly, "and me too, and my mother too; also my wife, and some of the braves with their wives. And you must give us biskit an'—what do you call that brown stuff?"

"Coffee," suggested the Captain.

"Yes, cuffy, also tee, and shoogre, and seal st- ate—what?"

"Steak—eh?"

"Yes, stik, and cook them all in the strange lamp. You must ask us to see the feast cooked, and then we will eat it."

It will be observed that when Chingatok interpolated English words in his discourse his pronunciation was not perfect.

"Well, you are the coolest fellow I've met with for many a day! To order a feast, invite yourself to it, name the rest of the company, as well as the victuals, and insist on seeing the cooking of the same," said the Captain in English; then, in Eskimo,—"Well, Chingatok, I will do as you wish. When would you like supper?"

"Now," replied the giant, with decision.

"You hear, Butterface," said the Captain when he had translated, "go to work and get your pots and pans ready. See that you put your best foot foremost. It will be a turning-point, this feast, I see."

Need we say that the feast was a great success? The wives, highly pleased at the attention paid them by the strangers, were won over at once. The whole party, when assembled in the hut, watched with the most indescribable astonishment the proceedings of the negro—himself a living miracle—as he manipulated a machine which, in separate compartments, cooked steaks and boiled tea, coffee, or anything else, by means of a spirit lamp in a few minutes. On first tasting the hot liquids they looked at each other suspiciously; then as the sugar tickled their palates, they smiled, tilted their pannikins, drained them to the dregs, and asked for more!

The feast lasted long, and was highly appreciated. When the company retired—which did not happen until the Captain declared he had nothing more to give them, and turned the cooking apparatus upside down to prove what he said—there was not a man or woman among them who did not hold and even loudly assert that the Kablunets were wise men.

After the feast the council of war was held and the strangers were allowed to be present. There was a great deal of talk—probably some of it was not much to the point, but there was no interruption or undignified confusion. There was a peace-party, of course, and a war-party, but the latter prevailed. It too often does so in human affairs. Chingatok was understood to favour the peace-party, but as his sire was on the other side, respect kept him tongue-tied.

"These Eskimos reverence age and are respectful to women," whispered Leo to Alf, "so we may not call them savages."

The old chief spoke last, summing up the arguments, as it were, on both sides, and giving his reasons for favouring war.

"The island is of no use," he said; "it is not worth a seal's nose, yet Grabantak wishes to tear it from us—us who have possessed it since the forgotten times. Why is this? because he wishes to insult us," ("huk!" from the audience). "Shall we submit to insult? shall we sit down like frightened birds and see the black-livered cormorant steal what is ours? shall the courage of the Poloes be questioned by all the surrounding tribes? Never! while we have knives in our boots and spears in our hands. We will fight till we conquer or till we are all dead—till our wives are husbandless and our children fatherless, and all our stores of meat and oil are gone!" ("huk! huk!") "Then shall it be said by surrounding tribes, 'Behold! how brave were the Poloes! they died and left their wives and little children to perish, or mourn in slavery, rather than submit to insult!'"

The "huks" that greeted the conclusion of the speech were so loud and numerous that the unfortunate peace-makers were forced to hide their diminished heads.

Thus did Amalatok resolve to go to war for "worse than Nort Pole—for nothing"—rather than submit to insult! (See Note 1.)

————————————————————————————————————

Note 1. It may not be inappropriate here to point out that Eskimo savages are sometimes equalled, if not surpassed, in this respect, by civilised and even Christian nations.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE EFFECT OF PERSUASION ON DIVERSE CHARACTERS.

The warlike tendencies of Grabantak, the northern savage, had the effect of compelling Captain Vane and his party to delay for a considerable time their efforts to reach the Pole. This was all the more distressing that they had by that time approached so very near to it. A carefully made observation placed the island of Poloe in latitude 88 degrees 30 minutes 10 seconds, about 90 geographical, or 104 English statute miles from the Pole.

There was no help for it, however. To have ventured on Grabantak's territory while war was impending would have been to court destruction. Captain Vane saw therefore that the only way of advancing his own cause was to promote peace between the tribes. With a view to this he sought an interview with the old chief Amalatok.

"Why do you wish to go to war?" he asked.

"I do not wish to go to war," answered the chief, frowning fiercely.

"Why do you go then?" said the Captain in a soothing tone, for he was very anxious not to rouse the chief's anger; but he was unsuccessful, for the question seemed to set the old man on fire. He started up, grinding his teeth and striding about his hut, knocking over pots, oil cans, and cooking-lamps somewhat like that famous bull which got into a china shop. Finding the space too small for him he suddenly dropped on his knees, crept through the low entrance, sprang up, and began to stride about more comfortably.

The open air calmed him a little. He ceased to grind his teeth, and stopping in front of the Captain, who had followed him, said in a low growl, "Do you think I will submit to insult?"

"Some men have occasionally done so with advantage," answered the Captain.

"Kablunets may do so, Eskimos never!" returned the old man, resuming his hurried walk to and fro, and the grinding of his teeth again.

"If Amalatok were to kill all his enemies—all the men, women and children," said the Captain, raising a fierce gleam of satisfaction in the old man's face at the mere suggestion, "and if he were to knock down all their huts, and burn up all their kayaks and oomiaks, the insult would still remain, because an insult can only be wiped out by one's enemy confessing his sin and repenting."

For a few seconds Amalatok stood silent; his eyes fixed on the ground as if he were puzzled.

"The white man is right," he said at length, "but if I killed them all I should be avenged."

"Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord," leaped naturally to the Captain's mind; but, reflecting that the man before him was a heathen who would not admit the value of the quotation, he paused a moment or two.

"And what," he then said, "if Grabantak should kill Amalatok and all his men, and carry away the women and children into slavery, would the insult be wiped out in that case? Would it not rather be deepened?"

"True, it would; but then we should all be dead—we should not care."

"The men would all be dead, truly," returned the Captain, "but perhaps the women and children left behind might care. They would also suffer."

"Go, go," said the Eskimo chief, losing temper as he lost ground in the argument; "what can Kablunets know about such matters? You tell me you are men of peace; that your religion is a religion of peace. Of course, then, you understand nothing about war. Go, I have been insulted, and I must fight."

Seeing that it would be fruitless talking to the old chief while he was in this frame of mind, Captain Vane left him and returned to his own hut, where he found Chingatok and Leo engaged in earnest conversation— Alf and Benjy being silent listeners.

"I'm glad you've come, uncle," said Leo, making room for him on the turf seat, "because Chingatok and I are discussing the subject of war; and—"

"A strange coincidence," interrupted the Captain. "I have just been discussing the same subject with old Amalatok. I hope that in showing the evils of war you are coming better speed with the son than I did with the father."

"As to that," said Leo, "I have no difficulty in showing Chingatok the evils of war. He sees them clearly enough already. The trouble I have with him is to explain the Bible on that subject. You see he has got a very troublesome inquiring sort of mind, and ever since I have told him that the Bible is the Word of God he won't listen to my explanations about anything. He said to me in the quietest way possible, just now, 'Why do you give me your reasons when you tell me the Great Spirit has given His? I want to know what He says.' Well, now, you know, it is puzzling to be brought to book like that, and I doubt if Anders translates well. You understand and speak the language, uncle, better than he does, I think, so I want you to help me."

"I'll try, Leo, though I am ashamed to say I am not so well read in the Word myself as I ought to be. What does Chingatok want to know?"

"He wants to reconcile things, of course. That is always the way. Now I told him that the Great Spirit is good, and does not wish men to go to war, and that He has written for us a law, namely, that we should 'live peaceably with all men.' Chingatok liked this very much, but then I had told him before, that the Great Spirit had told His ancient people the Jews to go and fight His enemies, and take possession of their lands. Now he regards this as a contradiction. He says—How can a man live peaceably with all men, and at the same time go to war with some men, kill them, and take their lands?"

"Ah! Leo, my boy, your difficulty in answering the Eskimo lies in your own partial quotation of Scripture," said the Captain. Then, turning to Chingatok, he added, "My young friend did not give you the whole law—only part of it. The word is written thus:—'if it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men.' Some times it is not possible, Chingatok; then we must fight. But the law says keep from fighting 'as much as you can.' Mind that, Chingatok, and if you are ever induced to go to war for the sake of a little island—for the sake of a little insult,—don't flatter yourself that you are keeping out of it as much as lieth in you."

"Good, good," said the giant, earnestly; "Blackbeard's words are wise."

"As to the people of God in the long past," continued the Captain, "God told them to go to war, so they went; but that does not authorise men to go to war at their own bidding. What is right in the Great Father of all may be very wrong in the children. God kills men every day, and we do not blame Him, but if man kills his fellow we hunt him down as a murderer. In the long past time the Great Father spoke to His children by His wise and holy men, and sometimes He saw fit to tell them to fight. With His reasons we have nothing to do. Now, the Great Father speaks to us by His Book. In it He tells us to live in peace with all men—if possible."

"Good," said the giant with an approving nod, though a perplexed expression still lingered on his face. "But the Great Father has never before spoken to me by His Book—never at all to my forefathers."

"He may, however, have spoken by His Spirit within you, Chingatok, I cannot tell," returned the Captain with a meditative air. "You have desires for peace and a tendency to forgive. This could not be the work of the spirit of evil. It must have been that of the Good Spirit."

This seemed to break upon the Eskimo as a new light, and he relapsed into silence as he thought of the wonderful idea that within his breast the Great Spirit might have been working in time past although he knew it not. Then he thought of the many times he had in the past resisted what he had hitherto only thought of as good feelings; and the sudden perception that at such times he had been resisting the Father of all impressed him for the first time with a sensation of guiltiness. It was some time before the need of a Saviour from sin entered into his mind, but the ice had been broken, and at last, through Leo's Bible, as read by him and explained by Captain Vane, Jesus, the Sun of Righteousness, rose upon his soul and sent in the light for which he had thirsted so long.

But, as we have said, this effect was not immediate, and he remained in a state of uncertainty and sadness while the warlike councils and preparations went on.

Meanwhile Captain Vane set himself earnestly to work to hit on some plan by which, if possible, to turn the feeling of the Eskimo community in favour of peace. At first he thought of going alone and unarmed, with Anders as interpreter, to the land of Grabantak to dissuade that savage potentate from attacking the Poloes, but the Eskimos pointed out that the danger of this plan was so great that he might as well kill himself at once. His own party, also, objected to it so strongly that he gave it up, and resolved in the meantime to strengthen his position and increase his influence with the natives among whom his lot was cast, by some exhibitions of the powers with which science and art had invested him.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE CAPTAIN ELECTRIFIES AS WELL AS SURPRISES HIS NEW FRIENDS.

It will be remembered that the party of Englishmen arrived at Poloeland under oars, and although the india-rubber boats had been gazed at, and gently touched, with intense wonder by the natives, they had not yet seen the process of disinflation, or the expansion of the kites.

Of course, Chingatok and their other Eskimo fellow-travellers had given their friends graphic descriptions of everything, but this only served to whet the desire to see the wonderful oomiaks in action. Several times, during the first few days, the old chief had expressed a wish to see the Kablunets go through the water in their boats, but as the calm still prevailed, and the Captain knew his influence over the natives would depend very much on the effect with which his various proceedings were carried out, he put him off with the assurance that when the proper time for action came, he would let him know.

One night a gentle breeze sprang up and blew directly off shore. As it seemed likely to last, the Captain waited till the whole community was asleep, and then quietly roused his son.

"Lend a hand here, Ben," he whispered, "and make no noise."

Benjy arose and followed his father in a very sleepy frame of mind.

They went to the place where the india-rubber boats lay, close behind the Englishmen's hut, and, unscrewing the brass heads that closed the air-holes, began to press out the air.

"That's it, Ben, but don't squeeze too hard, lest the hissing should rouse some of 'em."

"What'r 'ee doin' this for—ee—yaou?" asked Benjy, yawning.

"You'll see that to-morrow, lad."

"Hum! goin' t'squeeze'm all?"

"Yes, all three, and put 'em in their boxes."

The conversation flagged at this point, and the rest of the operation was performed in silence.

Next morning, after breakfast, seeing that the breeze still held, the Captain sent a formal message to Amalatok, that he was prepared to exhibit his oomiaks.

The news spread like wild-fire, and the entire community soon assembled—to the number of several hundreds—in front of the Englishmen's hut, where the Captain was seen calmly seated on a packing-case, with a solemn expression on his face. The rest of his party had been warned to behave with dignity. Even Benjy's round face was drawn into something of an oval, and Butterface made such superhuman attempts to appear grave, that the rest of the party almost broke down at the sight of him.

Great was the surprise among the natives when they perceived that the three oomiaks had disappeared.

"My friends," said the Captain, rising, "I will now show you the manner in which we Englishmen use our oomiaks."

A soft sigh of expectation ran through the group of eager natives, as they pressed round their chief and Chingatok who stood looking on in dignified silence, while the Captain and his companions went to work. Many of the women occupied a little eminence close at hand, whence they could see over the heads of the men, and some of the younger women and children clambered to the top of the hut, the better to witness the great sight.

Numerous and characteristic were the sighs, "huks," grunts, growls, and other exclamations; all of which were in keeping with the more or less intense glaring of eyes, and opening of mouths, and slight bending of knees and elbows, and spreading of fingers, and raising of hands, as the operators slowly unrolled the india-rubber mass, attached the bellows, gradually inflated the first boat, fixed the thwarts and stretchers, and, as it were, constructed a perfect oomiak in little more than ten minutes.

Then there was a shout of delight when the Captain and Leo, one at the bow, the other at the stern, lifted the boat as if it had been a feather, and, carrying it down the beach, placed it gently in the sea.

But the excitement culminated when Chingatok, stepping lightly into it, sat down on the seat, seized the little oars, and rowed away.

We should have said, attempted to row away, for, though he rowed lustily, the boat did not move, owing to Anders, who, like Eskimos in general, dearly loved a practical joke. Holding fast by the tail-line a few seconds, he suddenly let go, and the boat shot away, while Anders, throwing a handful of water after it, said, "Go off, bad boy, and don't come back; we can do without you." A roar of laughter burst forth. Some of the small boys and girls leaped into the air with delight, causing the tails of the latter to wriggle behind them.

The Captain gave them plenty of time to blow off the steam of surprise. When they had calmed down considerably, he proceeded to open out and arrange one of the kites.

Of course this threw them back into the open-eyed and mouthed, and finger-spreading condition, and, if possible, called forth more surprise than before. When the kite soared into the sky, they shouted; when it was being attached to the bow of the boat, they held their breath with expectation, many of them standing on one leg; and when at last the boat, with four persons in it, shot away to sea at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour, they roared with ecstasy; accompanying the yells with contortions of frame and visage which were so indescribable that we gladly leave it all to the reader's imagination.

There can be no doubt of the fact that the Captain placed himself and his countrymen that day on a pedestal from which there was no fear of their being afterwards dislodged.

"Did not I tell you," said Chingatok to his sire that night, in the privacy of his hut, "that the Kablunets are great men?"

"You did, my son. Chingatok is wise, and his father is a fool!"

No doubt the northern savage meant this self-condemning speech to be understood much in the same way in which it is understood by civilised people.

"When the oomiak swelled I thought it was going to burst," added the chief.

"So did I, when I first saw it," said Chingatok. Father and son paused a few minutes. They usually did so between each sentence. Evidently they pondered what they said.

"Have these men got wives?" asked the chief.

"The old one has, and Bunjay is his son. The other ones—no. The black man may have a wife: I know not, but I should think that no woman would have him."

"What made him black?"

"I know not."

"Was he always black?"

"The Kablunets say he was—from so big."

Chingatok measured off the half of his left hand by way of explaining how big.

"Is he black under the clothes?"

"Yes; black all over."

Again the couple paused.

"It is strange," said the old man, shaking his head. "Perhaps he was made black because his father was wicked."

"Not so," returned the young giant. "I have heard him say his father was a very good man."

"Strange," repeated the chief, with a solemn look, "he is very ugly— worse than a walrus. Tell me, my son, where do the Kablunets live? Do they hunt the walrus or the seal?"

"Blackbeard has told me much, father, that I do not understand. His people do not hunt much—only a very few of them do."

"Wah! they are lazy! The few hunt to keep the rest in meat, I suppose."

"No, father, that is not the way. The few hunt for fun. The great many spend their time in changing one thing for another. They seem to be never satisfied—always changing, changing—every day, and all day. Getting and giving, and never satisfied."

"Poor things!" said the chief.

"And they have no walruses, no white bears, no whales, nothing!" added the son.

"Miserables! Perhaps that is why they come here to search for nothing!"

"But, father, if they have got nothing at home, why come here to search for it?"

"What do they eat?" asked Amalatok, quickly, as if he were afraid of recurring to the puzzling question that had once already taken him out of his mental depth.

"They eat all sorts of things. Many of them eat things that are nasty— things that grow out of the ground; things that are very hot and burn the tongue; things that are poison and make them ill. They eat fish too, like us, and other people bring them their meat in great oomiaks from far-off lands. They seem to be so poor that they cannot find enough in their own country to feed themselves."

"Wretched creatures!" said the old man, pitifully. "Yes, and they drink too. Drink waters so hot and so terrible that they burn their mouths and their insides, and so they go mad."

"Did I not say that they were fools?" said Amalatok, indignantly.

"But the strangest thing of all," continued Chingatok, lowering his voice, and looking at his sire in a species of wonder, "is that they fill their mouths with smoke!"

"What? Eat smoke?" said Amalatok in amazement.

"No, they spit it out."

"Did Blackbeard tell you that?"

"Yes."

"Then Blackbeard is a liar!"

Chingatok did not appear to be shocked by the old man's plain speaking, but he did not agree with him.

"No, father," said he, after a pause. "Blackbeard is not a liar. He is good and wise, and speaks the truth. I have seen the Kablunets do it myself. In the big oomiak that they lost, some of the men did it, so— puff, pull, puff, puff—is it not funny?"

Both father and son burst into laughter at this, and then, becoming suddenly grave, remained staring at the smoke of their cooking-lamp, silently meditating on these things.

While thus engaged, a man entered the low doorway in the only possible manner, on hands and knees, and, rising, displayed the face of Anders.

"Blackbeard sends a message to the great old chief," said the interpreter. "He wishes him to pay the Kablunets a visit. He has something to show to the great old chief."

"Tell him I come," said the chief, with a toss of the head which meant, "be off!"

"I wonder," said Amalatok slowly, as Anders crept out, "whether Blackbeard means to show us some of his wisdom or some of his foolishness. The white men appear to have much of both."

"Let us go see," said Chingatok.

They went, and found the Captain seated in front of the door of his hut with his friends round him—all except Benjy, who was absent. They were very grave, as usual, desiring to be impressive.

"Chief," began the Captain, in that solemn tone in which ghosts are supposed to address mankind, "I wish to show you that I can make the stoutest and most obstinate warrior of Poloeland tremble and jump without touching him."

"That is not very difficult," said the old man, who had still a lurking dislike to acknowledge the Englishmen his superiors. "I can make any one of them tremble and jump by throwing a spear at him."

A slight titter from the assembly testified to the success of this reply.

"But," rejoined the Captain, with deepening solemnity, "I will do it without throwing a spear."

"So will I, by suddenly howling at him in the dark," said Amalatok.

At this his men laughed outright.

"But I will not howl or move," said the Captain.

"That will be clever," returned the chief, solemnised in spite of himself. "Let Blackbeard proceed."

"Order one of your braves to stand before me on that piece of flat skin," said the Captain.

Amalatok looked round, and, observing a huge ungainly man with a cod-fishy expression of face, who seemed to shrink from notoriety, ordered him to step forward. The man did so with obvious trepidation, but he dared not refuse. The Captain fixed his eyes on him sternly, and, in a low growling voice, muttered in English: "Now, Benjy, give it a good turn."

Cod-fishiness vanished as if by magic, and, with a look of wild horror, the man sprang into the air, tumbled on his back, rose up, and ran away!

It is difficult to say whether surprise or amusement predominated among the spectators. Many of them laughed heartily, while the Captain, still as grave as a judge, said in a low growling tone as if speaking to himself:—

"Not quite so stiff, Benjy, not quite so stiff. Be more gentle next time. Don't do it all at once, boy; jerk it, Benjy, a turn or so at a time."

It is perhaps needless to inform the reader that the Captain was practising on the Eskimos with his electrical machine, and that Benjy was secretly turning the handle inside the hut. The machine was connected, by means of wires, with the piece of skin on which the patients stood. These wires had been laid underground, not, indeed, in the darkness, but, during the secrecy and silence of the previous night.

After witnessing the effect on the first warrior, no other brave seemed inclined to venture on the skin, and the women, who enjoyed the fun greatly, were beginning to taunt them with cowardice, when Oolichuk strode forward. He believed intensely, and justifiably, in his own courage. No man, he felt quite sure, had the power to stare him into a nervous condition—not even the fiercest of the Kablunets. Let Blackbeard try, and do his worst!

Animated by these stern and self-reliant sentiments, he stepped upon the mat.

Benjy, being quick in apprehension, perceived his previous error, and proceeded this time with caution. He gave the handle of the machine a gentle half-turn and stopped, peeping through a crevice in the wall to observe the effect.

"Ha! ha! ho! ho!—hi! huk!" laughed Oolichuk, as a tickling sensation thrilled through all his nervous system. The laugh was irresistibly echoed by the assembled community.

Benjy waited a few seconds, and then gave the handle another and slightly stronger turn.

The laugh this time was longer and more ferocious, while the gallant Eskimo drew himself together, determined to resist the strange and subtle influence; at the same time frowning defiance at the Captain, who never for a moment took his coal-black eye off him!

Again Benjy turned the handle gently. He evidently possessed something of the ancient Inquisitor spirit, and gloated over the pains of his victim! The result was that Oolichuk not only quivered from head to foot, but gave a little jump and anything but a little yell. Benjy's powers of self-restraint were by that time exhausted. He sent the handle round with a whirr and Oolichuk, tumbling backwards off the mat, rent the air with a shriek of demoniac laughter.

Of course the delight of the Eskimos—especially of the children—was beyond all bounds, and eager were the efforts made to induce another warrior to go upon the mysterious mat, but not one would venture. They would rather have faced their natural enemy, the great Grabantak, unarmed, any day!

In this difficulty an idea occurred to Amalatok. Seizing a huge dog by the neck he dragged it to the mat, and bade it lie down. The dog crouched and looked sheepishly round. Next moment he was in the air wriggling. Then he came to the ground, over which he rushed with a prolonged howl, and disappeared among the rocks on the hill side.

It is said that that poor dog was never again seen, but Benjy asserts most positively that, a week afterwards, he saw it sneaking into the village with its tail very much between its legs, and an expression of the deepest humility on its countenance.

"You'd better give them a taste of dynamite, father," said Benjy that evening, as they all sat round their supper-kettle.

"No, no, boy. It is bad policy to fire off all your ammunition in a hurry. We'll give it 'em bit by bit."

"Just so, impress them by degrees," said Alf.

"De fust warrior was nigh bu'sted by degrees," said Butterface, with a broad grin, as he stirred the kettle. "You gib it 'im a'most too strong, Massa Benjee."

"Blackbeard must be the bad spirit," remarked Amalatok to his son that same night as they held converse together—according to custom—before going to bed.

"The bad spirit is never kind or good," replied Chingatok, after a pause.

"No," said the old man, "never."

"But Blackbeard is always good and kind," returned the giant.

This argument seemed unanswerable. At all events the old man did not answer it, but sat frowning at the cooking-lamp under the influence of intense thought.

After a prolonged meditation—during the course of which father and son each consumed the tit-bits of a walrus rib and a seal's flipper— Chingatok remarked that the white men were totally beyond his comprehension. To which, after another pause, his father replied that he could not understand them at all.

Then, retiring to their respective couches, they calmly went to sleep—"perchance to dream!"



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

A SHOOTING TRIP TO PARADISE ISLE, AND FURTHER DISPLAY OF THE CAPTAIN'S CONTRIVANCES.

While our explorers were thus reduced to a state of forced inaction as regarded the main object of their expedition, they did not by any means waste their time in idleness. On the contrary, each of the party went zealously to work in the way that was most suitable to his inclination.

After going over the main island of Poloe as a united party, and ascertaining its size, productions, and general features, the Captain told them they might now do as they pleased. For his part he meant to spend a good deal of his time in taking notes and observations, questioning the chief men as to the lands lying to the northward, repairing and improving the hut, and helping the natives miscellaneously so as to gain their regard.

Of course Leo spent much of his time with his rifle, for the natives were not such expert hunters but that occasionally they were badly off for food. Of course, also, Alf shouldered his botanical box and sallied forth hammer in hand, to "break stones," as Butterface put it. Benjy sometimes followed Alf—more frequently Leo, and always carried his father's double-barrelled shot-gun. He preferred that, because his powers with the rifle were not yet developed. Sometimes he went with Toolooha, or Tekkona, or Oblooria, in one of the native oomiaks to fish. At other times he practised paddling in the native kayak, so that he might accompany Chingatok on his excursions to the neighbouring islands after seals and wild-fowl.

In the excursions by water Leo preferred one of the india-rubber boats— partly because he was strong and could row it easily, and partly because it was capable of holding more game than the kayak.

These expeditions to the outlying islands were particularly delightful. There was something so peaceful, yet so wild, so romantic and so strange about the region, that the young men felt as if they had passed into a new world altogether. It is scarcely surprising that they should feel thus, when it is remembered that profound calms usually prevailed at that season, causing the sea to appear like another heaven below them; that the sun never went down, but circled round and round the horizon— dipping, indeed, a little more and more towards it each night, but not yet disappearing; that myriads of wild birds filled the air with plaintive cries; that whales, and sea-unicorns, and walruses sported around; that icebergs were only numerous enough to give a certain strangeness of aspect to the scene—a strangeness which was increased by the frequent appearance of arctic phenomena, such as several mock-suns rivalling the real one, and objects being enveloped in a golden haze, or turned upside down by changes in atmospheric temperature.

"No wonder that arctic voyagers are always hankering after the far north," said Leo to Benjy, one magnificent morning, as they rowed towards the outlying islands over the golden sea.

Captain Vane was with them that morning, and it was easy to see that the Captain was in a peculiar frame of mind. A certain twinkle in his eyes and an occasional smile, apparently at nothing, showed that his thoughts, whatever they might be, were busy.

Now, it cannot have failed by this time to strike the intelligent reader, that Captain Vane was a man given to mystery, and rather fond of taking by surprise not only Eskimos but his own companions. On the bright morning referred to he took with him in the boat a small flat box, or packing-case, measuring about three feet square, and not more than four inches deep.

As they drew near to Leo's favourite sporting-ground,—a long flat island with several small lakes on it which were bordered by tall reeds and sedges, where myriads of ducks, geese, gulls, plover, puffins, and other birds revelled in abject felicity,—Benjy asked his father what he had got in the box.

"I've got somethin' in it, Benjy,—somethin'."

"Why, daddy," returned the boy with a laugh, "if I were an absolute lunatic you could not treat me with greater contempt. Do you suppose I am so weak as to imagine that you would bring a packing-case all the way from England to the North Pole with nothing in it?"

"You're a funny boy, Benjy," said the Captain, regarding his son with a placid look.

"You're a funny father, daddy," answered the son with a shake of the head; "and it's fortunate for you that I'm good as well as funny, else I'd give you some trouble."

"You've got a good opinion of yourself, Ben, anyhow," said Leo, looking over his shoulder as he rowed. "Just change the subject and make yourself useful. Jump into the bow and have the boat-hook ready; the water shoals rather fast here, and I don't want to risk scraping a hole in our little craft."

The island they were approaching formed part of the extensive archipelago of which Poloe was the main or central island. Paradise Isle, as Leo had named it, lay about two miles from Poloe. The boat soon touched its shingly beach, but before it could scrape thereon its occupants stepped into the water and carefully carried it on shore.

"Now, Benjy, hand me the rifle and cartridges," said Leo, after the boat was placed in the shadow of a low bank, "and fetch the game-bag. What! you don't intend to carry the packing-case, uncle, do you?"

"I think I'd better do it," answered the Captain, lifting the case by its cord in a careless way; "it might take a fancy to have a swim on its own account, you know. Come along, the birds are growing impatient, don't you see?"

With a short laugh, Leo shouldered his rifle, and marched towards the first of a chain of little lakes, followed by Benjy with the game-bag, and the Captain with the case.

Soon a splendid grey wild-goose was seen swimming at a considerable distance beyond the reeds.

"There's your chance, now, Leo," said the Captain. But Leo shook his head. "No use," he said; "if I were to shoot that one I'd never be able to get it; the mud is too deep for wading, and the reeds too thick for swimming amongst. It's a pity to kill birds that we cannot get hold of, so, you see, I must walk along the margin of the lake until I see a bird in a good position to be got at, and then pot him."

"But isn't that slow work, lad?" asked the Captain.

"It might be slow if I missed often or wounded my birds," replied Leo, "but I don't often miss."

The youth might with truth have said he never missed, for his eye was as true and his hand as sure as that of any Leatherstocking or Robin Hood that ever lived.

"Why don't you launch the boat on the lake?" asked the Captain.

"Because I don't like to run the risk of damaging it by hauling it about among mud and sticks and overland. Besides, that would be a cumbersome way of hunting. I prefer to tramp about the margin as you see, and just take what comes in my way. There are plenty of birds, and I seldom walk far without getting a goodish—hist! There's one!"

As he spoke another large grey goose was seen stretching its long neck amongst the reeds at a distance of about two hundred yards. The crack of the rifle was followed by the instant death of the goose. At the same moment several companions of the bird rose trumpeting into the air amid a cloud of other birds. Again the rifle's crack was heard, and one of the geese on the wing dropped beside its comrade.

As Leo carried his repeating rifle, he might easily have shot another, but he refrained, as the bird would have been too far out to be easily picked up.

"Now, Benjy, are you to go in, or am I?" asked the sportsman with a sly look.

"Oh! I suppose I must," said the boy with an affectation of being martyred, though, in truth, nothing charmed him so much as to act the part of a water-dog.

A few seconds more, and he was stripped, for his garments consisted only of shirt and trousers. But it was more than a few seconds before he returned to land, swimming on his back and trailing a goose by the neck with each hand, for the reeds were thick and the mud softish, and the second bird had been further out than he expected.

"It's glorious fun," said Benjy, panting vehemently as he pulled on his clothes.

"It's gloriously knocked up you'll be before long at that rate," said the Captain.

"Oh! but, uncle," said Leo, quickly, "you must not suppose that I give him all the hard work. We share it between us, you know. Benjy sometimes shoots and then I do the retrieving. You've no idea how good a shot he is becoming."

"Indeed, let me see you do it, my boy. D'ye see that goose over there?"

"What, the one near the middle of the lake, about four hundred yards off?"

"Ay, Benjy, I want that goose. You shoot it, my boy."

"But you'll never be able to get it, uncle," said Leo.

"Benjy, I want that goose. You shoot it." There was no disobeying this peremptory command. Leo handed the rifle to the boy.

"Down on one knee, Ben, Hythe position, my boy," said the Captain, in the tone of a disciplinarian. Benjy obeyed, took a long steady aim, and fired.

"Bravo!" shouted the Captain as the bird turned breast up. "There's that goose's brother comin' to see what's the matter with him; just cook his goose too, Benjy."

The boy aimed again, fired, and missed.

"Again!" cried the Captain, "look sharp!"

Again the boy fired, and this time wounded the bird as it was rising on the wing.

Although wounded, the goose was quite able to swim, and made rapidly towards the reeds on the other side.

"What! am I to lose that goose?" cried the Captain indignantly.

Leo seized the rifle. Almost without taking time to aim, he fired and shot the bird dead.

"There," said he, laughing, "but I suspect it is a lost goose after all. It will be hard work to get either of these birds, uncle. However, I'll try."

Leo was proceeding to strip when the Captain forbade him.

"Don't trouble yourself, lad," he said, "I'll go for them myself."

"You, uncle?"

"Ay, me. D'ye suppose that nobody can swim but you and Benjy? Here, help me to open this box."

In silent wonder and expectation Leo and Benjy did as they were bid. When the mysterious packing-case was opened, there was displayed to view a mass of waterproof material. Tumbling this out and unrolling it, the Captain displayed a pair of trousers and boots in one piece attached to something like an oval life-buoy. Thrusting his legs down into the trousers and boots, he drew the buoy—which was covered with india-rubber cloth—up to his waist and fixed it there. Then, putting the end of an india-rubber tube to his mouth, he began to blow, and the buoy round his waist began to extend until it took the form of an oval.

"Now, boys," said the Captain, with profound gravity, "I'm about ready to go to sea. Here, you observe, is a pair o' pants that won't let in water. At the feet you'll notice two flaps which expand when driven backward, and collapse when moved forward. These are propellers—human web-feet—to enable me to walk ahead, d'ye see? and here are two small paddles with a joint which I can fix together—so—and thus make one double-bladed paddle of 'em, about four feet long. It will help the feet, you understand, but I'm not dependent on it, for I can walk without the paddles at the rate of two or three miles an hour."

As he spoke Captain Vane walked quietly into the water, to the wild delight of Benjy, and the amazement of his nephew.

When he was about waist-deep the buoy floated him. Continuing to walk, though his feet no longer touched ground, he was enabled by the propellers to move on. When he had got out a hundred yards or so, he turned round, took off his hat, and shouted—"land ho!"

"Ship ahoy!" shrieked Benjy, in an ecstasy.

"Mind your weather eye!" shouted the Captain, resuming his walk with a facetious swagger, while, with the paddles, he increased his speed. Soon after, he returned to land with the two geese.

"Well now, daddy," said his son, while he and Leo examined the dress with minute interest, "I wish you'd make a clean breast of it, and let us know how many more surprises and contrivances of this sort you've got in store for us."

"I fear this is the last one, Benjy, though there's no end to the applications of these contrivances. You'd better apply this one to yourself now, and see how you get on in it."

Of course Benjy was more than willing, though, as he remarked, the dress was far too big for him.

"Never mind that, my boy. A tight fit ain't needful, and nobody will find fault with the cut in these regions."

"Where ever did you get it, father?" asked the boy, as the fastenings were being secured round him.

"I got it from an ingenious friend, who says he's goin' to bring it out soon. Mayhap it's in the shops of old England by this time. There, now, off you go, but don't be too risky, Ben. Keep her full, and mind your helm." (See Note.)

Thus encouraged, the eager boy waded into the water, but, in his haste, tripped and fell, sending a volume of water over himself. He rose, however, without difficulty, and, proceeding with greater caution, soon walked off into deep water. Here he paddled about in a state of exuberant glee. The dress kept him perfectly dry, although he splashed the water about in reckless fashion, and did not return to land till quite exhausted.

Benjamin Vane from that day devoted himself to that machine. He became so enamoured of the "water-tramp," as he styled it—not knowing its proper name at the time—that he went about the lakelets in it continually, sometimes fishing, at other times shooting. He even ventured a short distance out to sea in it, to the amazement of the Eskimos, the orbits of whose eyes were being decidedly enlarged, Benjy said, and their eyebrows permanently raised, by the constant succession of astonishment-fits into which they were thrown from day to day by their white visitors.

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Note. Lest it should be supposed that the "pedomotive" here described is the mere creature of the author's brain, it may be well to state that he has seen it in the establishment of the patentees, Messrs. Thornton and Company of Edinburgh.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

BENJY'S ENJOYMENTS INTERRUPTED, AND POLOELAND OVERWHELMED WITH A CATASTROPHE.

One pleasant morning, towards the end of summer, Benjamin Vane went out with his gun in the water-tramp on the large lake of Paradise Isle.

Leo and he had reached the isle in one of the india-rubber boats. They had taken Anders with them to carry their game, and little Oblooria to prepare their dinner while they were away shooting; for they disliked the delay of personal attention to cooking when they were ravenous! After landing Benjy, and seeing him busy getting himself into the aquatic dress, Leo said he would pull off to a group of walruses, which were sporting about off shore, and shoot one. Provisions of fowl and fish were plentiful enough just then at the Eskimo village, but he knew that walrus beef was greatly prized by the natives, and none of the huge creatures had been killed for some weeks past.

About this time the threatened war with the northern Eskimos had unfortunately commenced.

The insatiable Grabantak had made a descent on one of Amalatok's smaller islands, killed the warriors, and carried off the women and children, with everything else he could lay hands on. Of course Amalatok made reprisals; attacked a small island belonging to Grabantak, and did as much general mischief as he could. The paltry islet about which the war began was not worthy either of attack or defence!

Then Amalatok, burning with the righteous indignation of the man who did not begin the quarrel, got up a grand muster of his forces, and went with a great fleet of kayaks to attack Grabantak in his strongholds.

But Grabantak's strongholds were remarkably strong. A good deal of killing was done, and some destruction of property accomplished, but that did not effect the conquest of the great northern Savage. Neither did it prove either party to be right or wrong! Grabantak retired to impregnable fastnesses, and Amalatok returned to Poloeland "covered with glory,"—some of his followers also covered with wounds, a few of which had fallen to his own share. The success, however, was not decided. On the whole, the result was rather disappointing, but Amalatok was brave and high-spirited, as some people would say. He was not going to give in; not he! He would fight as long as a man was left to back him, and bring Grabantak to his knees—or die! Either event would, of course, have been of immense advantage to both nations. He ground his teeth and glared when he announced this determination, and also shook his fist, but a sharp twinge of pain in one of his unhealed wounds caused him to cease frowning abruptly.

There was a sound, too, in the air, which caused him to sit down and reflect. It was a mixed and half-stifled sound, as if of women groaning and little children wailing. Some of his braves, of course, had fallen in the recent conflicts—fallen honourably with their faces to the foe. Their young widows and their little ones mourned them, and refused to be comforted, because they were not. It was highly unpatriotic, no doubt, but natural.

Amalatok had asked the white men to join him in the fight, but they had refused. They would help him to defend his country, if attacked, they said, but they would not go out to war. Amalatok had once threatened Blackbeard if he refused to go, but Blackbeard had smiled, and threatened to retaliate by making him "jump!" Whereupon the old chief became suddenly meek.

This, then, was the state of affairs when Benjy and Leo went shooting, on the morning to which we have referred.

But who can hope to describe, with adequate force, the joyful feelings of Benjamin Vane as he moved slily about the lakelets of Paradise Isle in the water-tramp? The novelty of the situation was so great. The surrounding circumstances were so peculiar. The prolonged calms of the circumpolar basin, at that period of the year, were so new to one accustomed to the variable skies of England; the perpetual sunshine, the absence of any necessity to consider time, in a land from which night seemed to have finally fled; the glassy repose of lake and sea, so suggestive of peace; the cheery bustle of animal life, so suggestive of pleasure—all these influences together filled the boy's breast with a strong romantic joy which was far too powerful to seek or find relief in those boisterous leaps and shouts which were his usual safety-valves.

Although not much given to serious thought, except when conversing with his father, Benjy became meditative as he moved quietly about at the edge of the reeds, and began to wonder whether the paradise above could exceed this paradise below!

Events occurred that day which proved to him that the sublunary paradise was, at least, woefully uncertain in its nature.

"Now, just keep still, will you, for one moment," muttered Benjy, advancing cautiously through the outer margin of reeds, among the stems of which he peered earnestly while he cocked his gun.

The individual to whom he spoke made no reply, because it was a goose— would that it were thus with all geese! It was a grey goose of the largest size. It had caught a glimpse of the new and strange creature that was paddling about its home, and was wisely making for the shelter of a spot where the reeds were more dense, and where Benjy would not have dared to follow. For, it must be remembered that our young sportsman was sunk to his waist in water, and that the reeds rose high over his head, so that if once lost in the heart of them, he might have found it extremely difficult to find his way out again.

Anxious not to lose his chance, he gave vent to a loud shout. This had the effect of setting up innumerable flocks of wild-fowl, which, although unseen, had been lurking listeners to the strange though gentle sound of the water-tramp. Among them rose the grey goose with one or two unexpected comrades.

Benjy had not at that time acquired the power of self-restraint necessary to good shooting. He fired hastily, and missed with the first barrel. Discharging the second in hotter haste, he missed again, but brought down one of the comrades by accident. This was sufficiently gratifying. Picking it up, he placed it on the boat-buoy in front of him to balance several ducks which already lay on the part in rear. He might have carried a dozen geese on his novel hunting-dress, if there had been room for them, for its floating power was sufficient to have borne up himself, and at least four, if not five, men.

Pursuing his way cautiously and gently, by means of the webbed feet alone, the young sportsman moved about like a sly water-spirit among the reeds, sometimes addressing a few pleasant words, such as, "how d'ye do, old boy," or, "don't alarm yourself, my tulip," to a water-hen or a coot, or some such bird which crossed his path, but was unworthy of his shot; at other times stopping to gaze contemplatively through the reed stems, or to float and rest in placid enjoyment, while he tried to imagine himself in a forest of water-trees.

Everywhere the feathered tribes first gazed at him in mute surprise; then hurried, with every variety of squeak, and quack, and fluttering wing, from his frightful presence.

Suddenly he came in sight of a bird so large that his heart gave a violent leap, and the gun went almost of its own accord to his shoulder, but the creature disappeared among the reeds before he could take aim. Another opening, however, again revealed it fully to view! It was a swan—a hyperborean wild swan!

Just as he made this discovery, the great bird, having observed Benjy, spread its enormous wings and made off with an amazing splutter.

Bang! went Benjy's gun, both barrels in quick succession, and down fell the swan quite dead, with its head in the water and its feet pointing to the sky.

"What a feast the Eskimos will have to-night!" was Benjy's first thought as he tramped vehemently towards his prize.

But his overflowing joy was rudely checked, for, having laid his gun down in front of him, for the purpose of using the paddle with both hands, it slipped to one side, tilted up, and, disappearing like an arrow in the lake, went to the bottom.

The sinking of Benjy's heart was not less complete. He had the presence of mind, however, to seize the reeds near him and check his progress at the exact spot. Leaning over the side of his little craft, he beheld his weapon quivering, as it were, at the bottom, in about eight feet of water. What was to be done? The energetic youth was not long in making up his mind on that point. He would dive for it. But diving in the water-tramp was out of the question. Knowing that it was all but impossible to make his way to the shore through the reeds, he resolved to reach the opposite shore, which was in some places free from vegetation. Seizing one of the reeds, he forced it down, and tied it into a knot to mark the spot where his loss had happened. He treated several more reeds in this way till he gained the open water outside, thus marking his path. Then he paddled across the lake, landed, undressed, and swam out again, pushing the empty dress before him, intending to use it as a resting-place.

On reaching the spot, he dived with a degree of vigour and agility worthy of a duck, but found it hard to reach the bottom, as he was not much accustomed to diving. For the same reason he found it difficult to open his eyes under water, so as to look for the gun. While trying to do so, a desperate desire to breathe caused him to leap to the surface, where he found that he had struggled somewhat away from the exact spot. After a few minutes' rest, he took a long breath and again went down; but found, to his dismay, that in his first dive he had disturbed the mud, and thus made the water thick. Groping about rendered it thicker, and he came to the surface the second time with feelings approaching to despair. Besides which, his powers were being rapidly exhausted.

But Benjy was full of pluck as well as perseverance. Feeling that he could not hold out much longer, he resolved to make the next attempt with more care—a resolve, it may be remarked, which it would have been better to have made at first.

He swam to the knotted reed, considered well the position he had occupied when his loss occurred, took an aim at a definite spot with his head, and went down. The result was that his hands grasped the stock of the gun the moment they reached the bottom.

Inflated with joy he leaped with it to the surface like a bladder; laid it carefully on the water-dress, and pushing the latter before him soon succeeded in getting hold of the dead swan. The bird was too heavy to be lifted on the float, he therefore grasped its neck with his teeth, and thus, heavily weighted, made for the shore.

It will not surprise the reader to be told that Benjy felt hungry as well as tired after these achievements, and this induced him to look anxiously for Leo, and to wonder why the smoke of Oblooria's cooking-lamp was not to be seen anywhere.

The engrossing nature of the events just described had prevented our little hero from observing that a smart breeze had sprung up, and that heavy clouds had begun to drive across the hitherto blue sky, while appearances of a very squally nature were gathering on the windward horizon. Moreover, while engaged in paddling among the reeds he had not felt the breeze.

It was while taking off the water-tramp that he became fully alive to these facts.

"That's it," he muttered to himself. "They've been caught by this breeze and been delayed by having had to pull against it, or perhaps the walruses gave them more trouble than they expected."

Appeasing his appetite as well as he could with this reflection, he left the water-tramp on the ground, with the dripping gun beside it, and hurried to the highest part of the island. Although not much of an elevation, it enabled him to see all round, and a feeling of anxiety filled his breast as he observed that the once glassy sea was ruffled to the colour of indigo, while wavelets flecked it everywhere, and no boat was visible!

"They may have got behind some of the islands," he thought, and continued his look-out for some time, with growing anxiety and impatience, however, because the breeze was by that time freshening to a gale.

When an hour had passed away the poor boy became thoroughly alarmed.

"Can anything have happened to the boat?" he said to himself. "The india-rubber is easily cut. Perhaps they may have been blown out to sea!"

This latter thought caused an involuntary shudder. Looking round, he observed that the depression of the sun towards the horizon indicated that night had set in.

"This will never do," he suddenly exclaimed aloud. "Leo will be lost. I must risk it!"

Turning as he spoke, he ran back to the spot where he had left the water-dress, which he immediately put on. Then, leaving gun and game on the beach, he boldly entered the sea, and struck out with feet and paddle for Poloeland.

Although sorely buffeted by the rising waves, and several times overwhelmed, his waterproof costume proved well able to bear him up, and with comparatively little fatigue he reached the land in less than two hours. Without waiting to take the dress off, he ran up to the Eskimo village and gave the alarm.

While these events were going on among the islets, Captain Vane and Alphonse Vandervell had been far otherwise engaged.

"Come, Alf," said the Captain, that same morning, after Leo and his party had started on their expedition, "let you and me go off on a scientific excursion,—on what we may style a botanico-geologico-meteorological survey."

"With all my heart, uncle, and let us take Butterface with us, and Oolichuk."

"Ay, lad, and Ivitchuk and Akeetolik too, and Chingatok if you will, for I've fixed on a spot whereon to pitch an observatory, and we must set to work on it without further delay. Indeed I would have got it into working order long ago if it had not been for my hope that the cessation of this miserable war would have enabled us to get nearer the North Pole this summer."

The party soon started for the highest peak of the island of Poloe—or Poloeland, as Alf preferred to call it. Oolichuk carried on his broad shoulders one of those mysterious cases out of which the Captain was so fond of taking machines wherewith to astonish the natives.

Indeed it was plain to see that the natives who accompanied them on this occasion expected some sort of surprise, despite the Captain's earnest assurance that there was nothing in the box except a few meteorological instruments. How the Captain translated to the Eskimos the word meteorological we have never been able to ascertain. His own explanation is that he did it in a roundabout manner which they failed to comprehend, and which he himself could not elucidate.

On the way up the hill, Alf made several interesting discoveries of plants which were quite new to him.

"Ho! stop, I say, uncle," he exclaimed for the twentieth time that day, as he picked up some object of interest.

"What now, lad?" said the Captain, stopping and wiping his heated brow.

"Here is another specimen of these petrifactions—look!"

"He means a vegetable o' some sort turned to stone, Chingatok," explained the Captain, as he examined the specimen with an interested though unscientific eye.

"You remember, uncle, the explanation I gave you some time ago," said the enthusiastic Alf, "about Professor Heer of Zurich, who came to the conclusion that primeval forests once existed in these now treeless Arctic regions, from the fossils of oak, elm, pine, and maple leaves discovered there. Well, I found a fossil of a plane leaf the other day,—not a very good one, to be sure—and now, here is a splendid specimen of a petrified oak-leaf. Don't you trace it quite plainly?"

"Well, lad," returned the Captain, frowning at the specimen, "I do believe you're right. There does seem to be the mark of a leaf there, and there is some ground for your theory that this land may have been once covered with trees, though it's hard to believe that when we look at it."

"An evidence, uncle, that we should not be too ready to judge by appearances," said Alf, as they resumed their upward march.

The top gained, a space was quickly selected and cleared, and a simple hut of flat stones begun, while the Captain unpacked his box. It contained a barometer, a maximum and minimum self-registering thermometer, wet and dry bulb, also a black bulb thermometer, a one-eighth-inch rain-gauge, and several other instruments.

"I have another box of similar instruments, Alf, down below," said the Captain, as he laid them carefully out, "and I hope, by comparing the results obtained up here with those obtained at the level of the sea, to carry home a series of notes which will be of considerable value to science."

When the Captain had finished laying them out, the Eskimos retired to a little distance, and regarded them for some minutes with anxious expectancy; but, as the strange things did not burst, or go up like sky-rockets, they soon returned with a somewhat disappointed look to their hut-building.

The work was quickly completed, for Eskimos are expert builders in their way, and the instruments had been carefully set up under shelter when the first symptoms of the storm began.

"I hope the sportsmen have returned," said the Captain, looking gravely round the horizon.

"No doubt they have," said Alf, preparing to descend the mountain. "Leo is not naturally reckless, and if he were, the cautious Anders would be a drag on him."

An hour later they regained the Eskimo village, just as Benjy came running, in a state of dripping consternation, from the sea.

Need it be said that an instant and vigorous search was instituted? Not only did a band of the stoutest warriors, headed by Chingatok, set off in a fleet of kayaks, but the Captain and his companions started without delay in the two remaining india-rubber boats, and, flying their kites, despite the risk of doing so in a gale, went away in eager haste over the foaming billows.

After exerting themselves to the uttermost, they failed to discover the slightest trace of the lost boat. The storm passed quickly, and a calm succeeded, enabling them to prosecute the search more effectively with oar and paddle, but with no better result.

Day after day passed, and still no member of the band—Englishman or Eskimo—would relax his efforts, or admit that hope was sinking. But they had to admit it at last, and, after three weeks of unremitting toil, they were compelled to give up in absolute despair. The most sanguine was driven to the terrible conclusion that Leo, Anders, and timid little Oblooria were lost.

It was an awful blow. What cared Alf or the Captain now for discovery, or scientific investigation! The poor negro, who had never at any time cared for plants, rocks, or Poles, was sunk in the profoundest depths of sorrow. Benjy's gay spirit was utterly broken. Oolichuk's hearty laugh was silenced, and a cloud of settled melancholy descended over the entire village of Poloe.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

FATE OF THE LOST ONES.

Leo, Anders, and timid little Oblooria, however, were not lost! Their case was bad enough, but it had not quite come to that.

On parting from Benjy, as described in the last chapter, these three went after a walrus, which coquetted with them instead of attacking, and drew them a considerable distance away from the island. This would have been a matter of trifling import if the weather had remained calm, but, as we have seen, a sudden and violent gale arose.

When the coming squall was first observed the boat was far to leeward of Paradise Isle, and as that island happened to be one of the most northerly of the group over which Amalatok ruled, they were thus far to leeward of any land with the exception of a solitary sugar-loaf rock near the horizon. Still Leo and his companions were not impressed with any sense of danger. They had been so long accustomed to calms, and to moving about in the india-rubber boats by means of paddles with perfect ease and security, that they had half forgotten the force of wind. Besides, the walrus was still playing with them provokingly—keeping just out of rifle-shot as if he had studied fire-arms and knew their range exactly.

"The rascal!" exclaimed Leo at last, losing patience, "he will never let us come an inch nearer."

"Try 'im once more," said Anders, who was a keen sportsman, "push him, paddle strong. Ho! Oblooria, paddle hard and queek."

Although the interpreter, being in a facetious mood, addressed Oblooria in English, she quite understood his significant gestures, and bent to her work with a degree of energy and power quite surprising in one apparently so fragile. Leo also used his oars, (for they had both oars and paddles), with such good-will that the boat skimmed over the Arctic sea like a northern diver, and the distance between them and the walrus was perceptibly lessened.

"I don't like the looks o' the southern sky," said Leo, regarding the horizon with knitted brows.

"Hims black 'nough—any'ow," said Anders.

"Hold. I'll have a farewell shot at the brute, and give up the chase," said Leo, laying down the oars and grasping his rifle.

The ball seemed to take effect, for the walrus dived immediately with a violent splutter, and was seen no more.

By this time the squall was hissing towards them so fast that the hunters, giving up all thought of the walrus, turned at once and made for the land, but land by that time lay far off on the southern horizon with a dark foam-flecked sea between it and them.

"There's no fear of the boat, Oblooria," said Leo, glancing over his shoulder at the girl, who sat crouching to meet the first burst of the coming storm, "but you must hold on tight to the life-lines."

There was no need to caution Anders. That worthy was already on his knees embracing a thwart—his teeth clenched as he gazed over the bow.

On it came like a whirlwind of the tropics, and rushed right over the low round gunwale of the boat, sweeping loose articles overboard, and carrying her bodily to leeward. Leo had taken a turn of the life-lines round both thighs, and held manfully to his oars. These, after stooping to the first rush of wind and water, he plied with all his might, and was ably seconded by Oblooria as well as by the interpreter, but a very few minutes of effort sufficed to convince them that they laboured in vain. They did not even "hold their own," as sailors have it, but drifted slowly, yet steadily, to the north.

"It's impossible to make head against this," said Leo, suddenly ceasing his efforts, "and I count it a piece of good fortune, for which we cannot be too thankful, that there is still land to leeward of us."

He pointed to the sugar-loaf rock before mentioned, towards which they were now rapidly drifting.

"Nothing to eat dere. Nothing to drink," said Anders, gloomily.

"Oh! that won't matter much. A squall like this can't last long. We shall soon be able to start again for home, no doubt. I say, Anders, what are these creatures off the point there? They seem too large and black for sea-birds, and not the shape of seals or walruses."

The interpreter gazed earnestly at the objects in question for some moments without answering. The rock which they were quickly nearing was rugged, barren, and steep on its southern face, against which the waves were by that time dashing with extreme violence, so that landing there would have been an impossibility. On its lee or northern side, however they might count on quiet water.

"We have nothing to fear," said Leo, observing that Oblooria was much agitated; "tell her so, Anders; we are sure to find a sheltered creek of some sort on the other side."

"I fear not the rocks or storm," replied the Eskimo girl to Anders. "It is Grabantak, the chief of Flatland, that I fear."

"Grabantak!" exclaimed Anders and Leo in the same breath.

"Grabantak is coming with his men!"

Poor little Oblooria, whose face had paled while her whole frame trembled, pointed towards the dark objects which had already attracted their attention. They were by that time near enough to be distinguished, and as they came, one after another, round the western point of Sugar-loaf rock, it was all too evident that the girl was right, and that the fleet of kayaks was probably bearing the northern savage and his men to attack the inhabitants of Poloe.

Leo's first impulse was to seize his repeating rifle and fill its cartridge-chamber quite full. It may be well to observe here that the cartridges, being carried in a tight waterproof case, had not been affected by the seas which had so recently overwhelmed them.

"What's de use?" asked Anders, in an unusually sulky tone, as he watched the youth's action. "Two men not can fight all de mans of Flatland."

"No, but I can pick off a dozen of them, one after another, with my good rifle, and then the rest will fly. Grabantak will fall first, and his best men after him."

This was no idle boast on the part of Leo. He knew that he could accomplish what he threatened long before the Eskimos could get within spear-throwing distance of his boat.

"No use," repeated Anders, firmly, still shaking his head in a sulky manner. "When you's bullets be done, more an' more inimies come on. Then dey kill you, an' me, an' Oblooria."

Leo laid down his weapon. The resolve to die fighting to the last was the result of a mere impulse of animal courage. Second thoughts cooled him, and the reference to Oblooria's fate decided him.

"You are right, Anders. If by fighting to the death I could save Oblooria, it would be my duty as well as my pleasure to fight; but I see that I haven't the ghost of a chance against such a host as is approaching, and it would be simply revengeful to send as many as I can into the next world before going there myself. Besides, it would exasperate the savages, and make them harder on the poor girl."

In saying this Leo was rather arguing out the point with himself than talking to the interpreter, who did not indeed understand much of what he said. Having made up his mind how to act, Leo stowed his precious rifle and ammunition in a small bag placed for that purpose under one of the thwarts, and, resuming the oars, prepared to meet his fate, whatever it should be, peacefully and unarmed.

While thus drifting in silence before the gale, the thought suddenly occurred to Leo, "How strange it is that I, who am a Christian—in name at least—should feel as if it were absurd to pray for God's help at such a time as this! Surely He who made me and these Eskimos is capable of guarding us? The very least we can do is to ask Him to guide us!"

The youth was surprised at the thought. It had flashed upon him like a ray of light. It was not the first time that he had been in even more imminent danger than the present, yet he had never before thought of the necessity of asking help from God, as if He were really present and able as well as willing to succour. Before the thought had passed he acted on it. He had no time for formal prayer. He looked up! It was prayer without words. In a few minutes more the boat was surrounded by the fleet of kayaks. There were hundreds of these tiny vessels of the north, each with its solitary occupant, using his double-bladed paddle vigorously.

Need we say that the strangers were at first gazed on with speechless wonder? and that the Eskimos kept for some time hovering round them at a respectful distance, as if uncertain how to act, but with their war-spears ready? All the time the whole party drifted before the gale towards the island-rock.

"Anders," said Leo, while the natives remained in this state of indecision, "my mind is made up as to our course of action. We will offer no resistance whatever to these fellows. We must be absolutely submissive, unless, indeed, they attempt to ill-treat Oblooria, in which case of course we will defend her. Do you hear?"

This was said with such quiet decision, and the concluding question was put in such a tone, that the interpreter replied, "Yis, sar," promptly.

As Leo made no sign of any kind, but continued to guide the boat steadily with the oars, as if his sole anxiety was to round the western point of the island and get into a place of shelter, the natives turned their kayaks and advanced along with him. Naturally they fell into the position of an escort—a part of the fleet paddling on each side of the captives, (for such they now were), while the rest brought up the rear.

"What ails Oblooria, Anders?" asked Leo in a low tone.

"What is the matter?" asked the interpreter, turning to the girl, who, ever since the approach of the Eskimos, had crouched like a bundle in the bottom of the boat with her face buried in her hands. "There is no fear. Grabantak is a man, not a bear. He will not eat you."

"Grabantak knows me," answered the poor girl, without lifting her head; "he came to Poloe once, before the war, and wanted me to be the wife of his son. I want not his son. I want Oolichuk!"

The simplicity and candour of this confession caused Leo to laugh in spite of himself, while poor little Oblooria, who thought it no laughing matter, burst into tears.

Of course the men of Flatland kept their eyes fixed in wide amazement on Leo, as they paddled along, and this sudden laugh of his impressed them deeply, being apparently without a cause, coupled as it was with an air of absolute indifference to his probable fate, and to the presence of so many foes. Even the ruthless land-hungerer, Grabantak, was solemnised.

In a few minutes the whole party swept round the point of rocks, and proceeded towards the land over the comparatively quiet waters of a little bay which lay under the lee of the Sugar-loaf rock.

During the brief period that had been afforded for thought, Leo had been intently making his plans. He now proceeded to carry them out.

"Hand me the trinket-bundle," he said to Anders.

The interpreter searched in a waterproof pouch in the stern of the boat, and produced a small bundle of such trinkets as are known to be valued by savages. It had been placed and was always kept there by Captain Vane, to be ready for emergencies.

"They will be sure to take everything from us at any rate," remarked Leo, as he divided the trinkets into two separate bundles, "so I shall take the wind out of their sails by giving everything up at once with a good grace."

The Grabantaks, if we may so style them, drew near, as the fleet approached the shore, with increasing curiosity. When land was reached they leaped out of their kayaks and crowded round the strangers. It is probable that they would have seized them and their possessions at this point, but the tall strapping figure of Leo, and his quiet manner, overawed them. They held back while the india-rubber boat was being carried by Leo and Anders to a position of safety.

Poor Oblooria walked beside them with her head bowed down, shrinking as much as possible out of sight. Everybody was so taken up with the strange white man that no one took any notice of her.

No sooner was the boat laid down than Leo taking one of the bundles of trinkets stepped up to Grabantak, whom he easily distinguished by his air of superiority and the deference paid him by his followers.

Pulling his own nose by way of a friendly token, Leo smiled benignantly in the chief's face, and opened the bundle before him.

It is needless to say that delight mingled with the surprise that had hitherto blazed on the visage of Grabantak.

"Come here, Anders, and bring the other bundle with you. Tell this warrior that I am very glad to meet with him."

"Great and unconquerable warrior," began the interpreter, in the dialect which he had found was understood, by the men of Poloe, "we have come from far-off lands to bring you gifts—"

"Anders," said Leo, whose knowledge of the Eskimo tongue was sufficient, by that time, to enable him in a measure to follow the drift of a speech, "Anders, if you don't tell him exactly what I say I'll kick you into the sea!"

As Anders stood on a rock close to the water's edge, and Leo looked unusually stern, he thereafter rendered faithfully what the latter told him to say. The speech was something to the following effect:—

"I am one of a small band of white men who have come here to search out the land. We do not want the land. We only want to see it. We have plenty of land of our own in the far south. We have been staying with the great chief Amalatok in Poloeland."

At the mention of his enemy's name the countenance of Grabantak darkened. Without noticing this, Leo went on:—

"When I was out hunting with my man and a woman, the wind arose and blew us hither. We claim your hospitality, and hope you will help us to get back again to Poloeland. If you do so we will reward you well, for white men are powerful and rich. See, here are gifts for Grabantak, and for his wife."

This latter remark was a sort of inspiration. Leo had observed, while Anders was speaking, that a stout cheerful-faced woman had been pushing aside the men and gradually edging her way toward the Eskimo chief with the air of a privileged person. That he had hit the mark was obvious, for Grabantak turned with a bland smile, and hit his wife a facetious and rather heavy slap on the shoulder. She was evidently accustomed to such treatment, and did not wince.

Taking from his bundle a gorgeous smoking-cap richly ornamented with brilliant beads, Leo coolly crowned the chief with it. Grabantak drew himself up and tried to look majestic, but a certain twitching of his face, and sparkle in his eyes, betrayed a tendency to laugh with delight. Fortunately, there was another cap of exactly the same pattern in the bundle, which Leo instantly placed on the head of the wife—whose name he afterwards learned was Merkut.

The chief's assumed dignity vanished at this. With that childlike hilarity peculiar to the Eskimo race, he laughed outright, and then, seizing the cap from Merkut's head, put it above his own to the amusement of his grinning followers.

Leo then selected a glittering clasp-knife with two blades, which the chief seized eagerly. It was evidently a great prize—too serious a gift to be lightly laughed at. Then a comb was presented to the wife, and a string of gay beads, and a pair of scissors. Of course the uses of combs and scissors had he explained, and deep was the interest manifested during the explanation, and utter the forgetfulness of the whole party for the time being in regard to everything else in the world—Oblooria included, who sat unnoticed on the rocks with her face still buried in her hands.

When Grabantak's possessions were so numerous that the hood of his coat, and the tops of his wife's boots were nearly filled with them, he became generous, and, prince-like, (having more than he knew what to do with), began to distribute things to his followers.

Among these followers was a tall and stalwart son of his own, to whom he was rather stern, and not very liberal. Perhaps the chief wished to train him with Spartan ideas of self-denial. Perhaps he wanted his followers to note his impartiality. Merkut did not, however, act on the same principles, for she quietly passed a number of valuable articles over to her dear son Koyatuk, unobserved by his stern father.

Things had gone on thus pleasantly for some time; the novelty of the gifts, and the interest in their explanation having apparently rendered these people forgetful of the fact that they might take them all at once; when a sudden change in the state of affairs was wrought by the utterance of one word.

"We must not," said Leo to Anders, looking at his follower over the heads of the Eskimos, "forget poor little Oblooria."

"Oblooria!" roared Grabantak with a start, as if he had been electrified.

"Oblooria!" echoed Koyatuk, glaring round.

"Oblooria!" gasped the entire band.

Another moment and Grabantak, bursting through the crowd, leaped towards the crouching girl and raised her face. Recognising her he uttered a yell which probably was meant for a cheer.

Hurrying the frightened girl into the circle through which he had broken, the chief presented her to his son, and, with an air worthy of a civilised courtier, said:—

"Your wife, Koyatuk—your Oblooria!—Looria!"

He went over the last syllables several times, as if he doubted his senses, and feared it was too good news to be true.

This formal introduction was greeted by the chief's followers with a series of wild shouts and other demonstrations of extreme joy.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

A FIGHT IN DEFENCE OF WOMAN, AND RIFLE-SHOOTING EXTRAORDINARY.

When the excitement had somewhat abated, Leo stepped to the side of Oblooria, and laying his hand on her shoulder said firmly, through Anders:—

"Pardon me, Grabantak, this girl is not the wife of Koyatuk; she is my sister!"

The chief frowned, clenched his teeth, and grasped a spear—

"When did Kablunet men begin to have Eskimo sisters?"

"When they took all distressed women under their protection," returned Leo promptly. "Every woman who needs my help is my sister," he added with a look of self-sufficiency which he was far from feeling.

This new doctrine obviously puzzled the chief, who frowned, smiled, and looked at the ground, as if in meditation. It seemed to afford great comfort to Oblooria, who nestled closer to her champion. As for Koyatuk, he treated the matter with an air of mingled surprise and scorn, but dutifully awaited his father's pleasure.

Koyatuk was physically a fine specimen of a savage, but his spirit was not equal to his body. Like his father he was over six feet high, and firmly knit, being of both larger and stronger build than Leo, whom he now regarded, and of course hated, as his rival—a contemptible one, no doubt; still—a rival.

The warriors watched their chief in breathless suspense. To them it was a thoroughly new and interesting situation. That a white stranger, tall and active, but slender and very young, should dare single-handed to defy not only their chief, but, as it were, the entire tribe, including the royal family, was a state of things in regard to which their previous lives afforded no parallel. They could not understand it at all, and stood, as it were, in eager, open-mouthed, and one-legged expectation.

At last Grabantak looked up, as if smitten by a new idea, and spoke—

"Can Kablunet men fight?" he asked.

"They love peace better than war," answered Leo, "but when they see cause to fight they can do so."

Turning immediately to his son, Grabantak said with a grim smile—

"Behold your wife, take her!"

Koyatuk advanced. Leo placed Oblooria behind him, and, being unarmed, threw himself into a pugilistic posture of defence. The young Eskimo laid one of his strong hands on the Englishman's shoulder, intending to thrust him aside violently. Leo was naturally of a tender disposition. He shrank from dealing a violent blow to one who had not the remotest idea of what was coming, or how to defend himself from the human fist when used as a battering-ram.

But Leo chanced to be, in a sense, doubly armed. During one of his holiday rambles in England he had visited Cornwall, and there had learned that celebrated "throw" which consists in making your haunch a fulcrum, your right arm a lever, and your adversary a shuttlecock. He suddenly grasped his foe round the waist with one arm. Next moment the Grabantaks saw what the most imaginative among them had never till then conceived of—Koyatuk's soles turned to the sky, and his head pointing to the ground! The moment following, he lay flat on his back looking upwards blankly.

The huk! hi! ho! hooroos! that followed may be conceived, but cannot be described. Some of the men burst into laughter, for anything ludicrous is irresistible to an Eskimo of the very far north. A few were petrified. Others there were who resented this indignity to the heir-apparent, and flourished their spears in a threatening manner. These last Grabantak quieted with a look. The incident undoubtedly surprised that stern parent, but also afforded him some amusement. He said it was an insult that must be avenged. Oddly enough he made use of an expression which sounded curiously familiar to Leo's ears, as translated by Anders. "The insult," said Grabantak, "could only be washed out in blood!"