Travelling by dog-sledge among the Eskimos is rapid and exhilarating when the ice is unbroken. When the explorers left the village and made for the far east, the plain of ice before them was level and smooth as far as the eye could reach. They therefore went along at a swinging pace, the team stretching out at full gallop, a crack from the whip resounding only now and then, when one of the dogs inclined to become refractory.

The short day soon vanished, and the long night with its galaxy of stars and shooting aurora still found them gliding swiftly over the white plain.

At last a line of hummocks and icebergs rose up before them, as if to bar their further progress, and the dogs reduced their speed to a trot, until, on reaching the broken ice, they stopped altogether.

"We will camp here," said Cheenbuk, jumping off and stretching himself. "Make the igloe there," he added, pointing to a convenient spot in the lee of a small berg.

The whole party went to work, and in a wonderfully short time had constructed one of their snow bee-hives large enough to contain them all.

Here they ate a hasty supper and spent several hours in a slumber so profound and motionless that it seemed as if they were all dead; not a sigh, not even a snore, broke the stillness of the night. Next morning they were up and off long before the first glimmer of dawn proclaimed the advent of a new day.

Fortunately a passage among the ridges of broken ice was found, through which the sledge was hauled with comparative ease, and before noon they had reached the open sea-ice beyond, over which they again set forth at full swing.

Little food had been brought, for they depended chiefly on their weapons to supply them, and as seals abounded everywhere, as well as walruses, they had no lack.

Thus they advanced for several days, sometimes being retarded a little by broken ice, but for the most part dashing at full speed over smooth surfaces.

One day they came to a long stretch of land, extending to the right and left as far as the eye could reach, which seemed to be a check to their progress, for it was extensively covered with willow bushes. Cheenbuk climbed a neighbouring berg with Nazinred to have a look at it. The Eskimo looked rather glum, for the idea of land-travelling and struggling among willows was repugnant to him.

"I don't like the look of this," he said, turning to his companion; "there seems no end to it."

"Let not my son be cast down," returned the Indian; "men-of-the-woods understand the nature of land. This looks like a low flat, running out from the mainland. If so, it is not likely to be very wide, and we shall be sure to find the great salt lake on the other side of it. Besides, away to the left I see something like a small lake. If we go there we may find hard snow on which the dogs can run."

"There is bad fortune here," said Aglootook, endeavouring to look oracular, as he came up at that moment with Anteek. "We must go far away in that direction," he added, pointing to the right, and looking at his leader with the aspect as well as the wisdom of an owl.

The fact was that from the start the magician had been thirsting for some opportunity to display his profound sagacity, and in his opinion the time had arrived, for in other men's extremity he was wont to find his opportunity. True, he knew no more than the king of Ashantee which was the best line to take—right or left,—but much of the power he had acquired over his fellows was due to his excessive self-sufficiency, coupled with reckless promptitude in taking action. If things went well he got the credit; if wrong—well, he was ingenious in devising explanations!

"Aglootook is wise," said Cheenbuk, with gravity and a glance at Anteek; "I will act on his advice, but first I must take just a little run to the left, to find out something that I see there."

Anteek was not naturally rude, but there was a sensation in him at that moment which induced him to turn his back on the magician and become absorbed in the contemplation of a neighbouring berg. When he turned round again his face was a little flushed.

Nazinred was right. There was not only a lake at the place which he pointed out, but a chain of small lakes, over which the dogs scampered as well as if they had been on the open sea. That night, however, they were obliged to encamp among the willows, but next night they reached the other side of what was evidently a large promontory, and finally swept out again on the familiar frozen sea.

The day following they arrived at an obstruction which it appeared as if neither the wisdom of Aglootook, the sagacity of Nazinred, nor the determination of Cheenbuk could enable them to surmount.

This was a mighty barrier of broken ice, which had probably been upheaved by the flow of cross currents when the sea was setting fast in autumn, or the action of conflicting bergs, many of which were imbedded in the mass, thus giving to it the appearance of a small mountain range with higher peaks rising above the general elevation.

On beholding it Aglootook recovered some of his self-respect, and, with a look of wisdom quite inconceivable by those who have not seen it, expressed his solemn belief that they would have escaped this difficulty if they had only acted on his advice, and travelled to the right.

Cheenbuk admitted that he seemed to have been mistaken, in a tone which again set Anteek contemplating one of the neighbouring bergs with a countenance not altogether devoid of colour, and the leader drove the team towards the least forbidding part of the ridge.

"You will never get across," said Aglootook in a low voice.

"I will try," returned Cheenbuk.

"It is madness," said the magician.

"People have often called me mad," responded Cheenbuk, "so if they were right I am well fitted to do it."

It was an exceedingly difficult crossing. In some places the blocks and masses were heaped together in such confusion that it seemed as if the attempt to pass were useless, and the magician solaced himself by frequent undertoned references to the advantage in general of travelling right instead of left. But always when things looked most hopeless the indefatigable Cheenbuk found a passage—often very narrow and crooked, it is true,—through which they managed to advance, and when the way was blocked altogether, as it was more than once, Cheenbuk and the Indian cleared a passage with their axes, while Anteek led the dogs over the obstruction, and Oolalik guided the sledge over it. Nootka usually stood on a convenient ice-mound and admired the proceedings, while Aglootook, who had no axe, stood beside her and gave invaluable advice, to which nobody paid the slightest attention.

At last, after many a fall and slip and tremendous slide, they reached the other side of the ridge, and once again went swiftly and smoothly over the level plain.

"We shall not find them," remarked Oolalik, becoming despondently prophetic as he surveyed the wide expanse of frozen sea, with nothing but bergs and hummocks here and there to break its uniformity.

"We must find them," replied Cheenbuk, with that energy of resolution which usually assails a man of vigorous physique and strong will when difficulties accumulate.

"But, my son, if we do not find them it will not matter much, for the white traders of the woods have plenty of the hard stuff, and all other things also, and when we return to the Greygoose River at the opening of the waters, we may take the teeth of the walrus and the skins of the seal and begin a trade with them. I have much of their goods in my own wigwam, and Cheenbuk knows that I can guide him to the home of the trader on the great fresh lake."

Oolalik glanced at Nootka while the Indian spoke, as if he felt that a splendid prospect of decorative, ornamental, and other delights was opening up to her. Nootka returned the glance as if she felt that a splendid opportunity of securing such delights for her was opening up to him.

Cheenbuk did not reply, being engaged in the profound abysses of thought which had been opened up by his red friend's suggestion.

Before he could find words to reply, Nazinred, whose vision was keen and practised, pointed out something that appeared like a cloud on the horizon ahead of them, and which he declared to be land.

"I have noticed that the eyes of the man-of-the-woods are sharper than those of the Eskimo," said Cheenbuk.

The Indian received this compliment with a gaze of calm indifference, as though he heard it not.

Just then an exclamation from Anteek attracted general attention. He pointed to a mound of snow on the ice a short way to the left of the track which had a peculiar shape.

"Something covered over with snow," said Cheenbuk, turning the dogs in that direction by the simple but significant expedient of sending his long whip with a resonant crack to the right of the team.

"It is a man," remarked Nazinred as they drew near.

He was right. On clearing away the snow they found the dead body of a man, some portions of whose costume resembled that of a sailor, though of course none of those who discovered it were aware of that fact.

"Kablunet!" exclaimed Cheenbuk, using the Eskimo term for white man.

How long the poor man had lain there it was not easy to guess, for the body was frozen stiff, so that decay was impossible, but the fact that it had not been discovered by bears argued that it could not have lain long. Its emaciated appearance and the empty sack slung across the shoulder showed that death must have been the result of starvation. There was a short loaded carbine lying beside the body, and in a pouch a flask of powder with a few bullets.

"I think," said Nazinred, after careful inspection of the remains, "that this is one of the white men who come over the salt lake in their big canoes."

"If so," said Cheenbuk, "we will follow his track, and may come to the big canoe itself; perhaps some of the Kablunets may be yet alive."

The Indian shook his head.

"Men do not start off alone on a journey to nowhere," he replied. "The big canoe must have been crushed in the ice, and the men must have started off together to search for Eskimos. I think they must all have died on the way, and this one walked farthest."

"The man-of-the-woods is wise," said Oolalik. "If we follow the track we shall soon find out."

"Yes," said Aglootook, putting on his most prophetic air. "Go on the track straight as we can go—that is my advice, and we shall be quite sure to come to something."

Cheenbuk acted on the advice. Having buried the body of the unfortunate sailor in a snow-grave, and taken possession of the carbine and other things, they leaped on the sledge again, and continued to advance along the track, which, though in some places almost obliterated, was easily followed. They had not advanced more than a mile when another mound was discovered, with another seaman below it, whom they buried in the same way, and close to it a third, whose costume being in some parts a little finer, they correctly guessed to be a chief.

At last they came in sight of a large mound, and on uncovering it found a boat with four dead men lying near it. All seemed to have died of starvation, and the reason why some of them had forsaken the boat was obvious, for it was crushed out of shape by ice; the bottom having been cut completely away, so that all the provisions they had to depend on had no doubt been lost.

"This is not the big canoe," remarked the Indian, while they examined it. "The big one must have been sunk, and they had to try to escape in the little one."

The party spent a long time in examining the boat, and as there was a good deal of iron about it which might be useful, they resolved to re-visit it on the homeward journey.

Setting off again, they now made straight for the land discovered by Nazinred, which now lay like a dark blue line of hills in the far distance. From the abrupt termination of the land at either extremity of the range it was judged to be a large island.

As the night was clear and the ice level, the party travelled all that night, and arrived at the island about daybreak the following morning.

The shore was rocky and desolate, with high cliffs behind it, so that further progress to the eastward was evidently impossible, unless by passing round the island to the north or south of it.

"I said you would come to something," said the magician, sententiously, as they drew near to the forbidding coast.

"You were right, Aglootook. Indeed, it would be impossible for you to be wrong," replied Cheenbuk, with one of those glances at Anteek which rendered it hard for the boy to preserve his gravity; yet he was constrained to make the effort, for the magician was very sensitive on the point, and suspected the boy.

They were by this time running between the headlands of a small bay, and suddenly came in sight of an object which caused them all to exclaim with surprise and excitement—for there, under the shelter of a high cliff, lay a three-masted ship, or, as the Indian termed it, the white man's big canoe.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

INTERESTING, AMUSING, AND ASTOUNDING DISCOVERIES.

Although close under the cliffs, and apparently on the rocks, the vessel was by no means a wreck, neither had it the aspect of one. There were no broken masts or tattered sails or ropes dangling from the yards. On the contrary, the masts were straight and sound; such of the yards as had not been lowered were squared, and all the ropes were trim and taut.

The deck was covered over with a roof of canvas, and the snow banked up all round so as to meet the lower edges of it and form a protection from the wind. Up one side of this bank of snow a flight of stairs had been cut, leading to the port gangway, and the prints of many feet were seen all round the ship converging towards the stairs, the steps of which were worn as if by much use.

At first the natives approached the vessel with extreme caution, not being sure of what might be their reception if any man should be on board, and with a sense of awe at beholding a mysterious object which had hitherto been utterly beyond the range of their experience, though not quite unknown to them by report. By degrees, however, they drew nearer and nearer, until they reached the bottom of the snow staircase. Still there was no sound to be heard in the white man's big canoe to indicate the presence of a human being.

At last Cheenbuk uttered a shout with the view of attracting attention, but there was no reply.

"Make the fire-spouter speak," he said, looking at his Indian friend.

Nazinred silently obeyed, pointed his gun at the clouds, and fired; then the whole party awaited the result, listening intently. They heard much more than had been expected, for the cliffs embraced several echoes, which, being thus rudely awakened, sent the shot crashing back with multiplied violence, to the no little surprise, as well as alarm, of the hearers.

Still all was silent on board of the ship, and at last, coming to the conclusion that there was no living soul there at all, the Indian, having reloaded his gun, began to ascend the staircase, closely followed by Cheenbuk, Oolalik, Anteek, and Aglootook—which last, being a cautious man, was careful to bring up the rear. Nootka and Cowlik remained on the ice to observe the end of it all—the former anxiously curious, the latter curiously easy. For some time these two stood in silent expectancy. Then Oolalik appeared at the top of the staircase, and, looking down with a face in which solemn wonder had reached its utmost limit of expression, beckoned them to come up.

Nootka obeyed with alacrity; her companion, leisurely.

What the party saw on entering the vessel was well fitted to arouse wonder in their unsophisticated minds. Whether it was one of the numerous discovery ships that have invaded those regions in the present century, or a whaler which had been driven out of its course by stress of weather or power of ice, is uncertain, for although some relics of the expedition ultimately reached the outpost of the fur-traders, nothing was brought away by the Eskimos which bore name or date or writing of any kind. Although ignorant of the meaning as well as the uses of almost everything they saw, those natives were quite sufficiently intelligent to guess that the white man's big canoe had been set fast in the ice the previous autumn, and laid up for the winter in this place of safety to serve as a big igloe or hut.

Their examination of the ship was at first very slow, for they stepped about on tiptoe as if afraid of disturbing some of the ghosts of its former inhabitants. Then, a speculative gaze had to be turned on each object for a few moments, followed by an inquiring glance at each other. The deck and its accompaniments of masts rising through the canvas roof, and ropes, and blocks, hatches, skylights, companions, etcetera, afforded them matter for unbounded astonishment; though what they afterwards discovered below was productive of unutterable amazement.

"Hoi!" exclaimed Cheenbuk, pointing at something with all his ten fingers expanded.

He had discovered the binnacle, and was gazing for the first time at the mariner's compass!

"Hi!" cried the responsive Anteek in a wide-eyed condition.

He had discovered the after-companion, which was partially open, and was gazing solemnly into the depths below.

The unwonted nature of their surroundings developed an unsuspected vein of curiosity in Cowlik, who pushed the companion-door open, and, seeing a flight of steps with some degree of light below, she began to descend. Whether Nootka's surprise at this sudden act of self-assertion, or her curiosity, was the stronger, it would be hard to say, but she immediately went after Cowlik. The men, seeing the way thus indicated, did not hesitate to follow.

Of course they all held tenaciously by the brass rail, being afraid to slip on the steep stair, and some of them, slewing round almost naturally, went down in true sailor fashion, backwards.

Reaching the bottom, the girls, probably by chance, turned to the left and entered the after-cabin. The men of the party turned to the right, and became absorbed in contemplation of the steward's pantry. It smelt deliciously, but that was all that remained of its native attractions, for of food or drink there was nothing left.

They had just made this discovery when a loud laugh and then a wild scream from the cabin horrified them. Cheenbuk and Oolalik drew their knives, Nazinred cocked his gun, Anteek grasped a rolling-pin that lay handy, and all four sprang to the rescue.

The scream came from Cowlik. She had suddenly faced a mirror that hung in the cabin, and beheld a perfect representation of her own fat face. It was by no means an unknown face, for she had often had an imperfect view of it in pools and in calm seas, but it quite took her aback when thus unexpectedly and clearly presented. The blaze of astonishment that followed the first glance caused the burst of laughter referred to, and the display of her wide mouth and white teeth in the changed expression induced the scream of alarm. It also made her start backward so quickly that she sent poor Nootka crashing against the starboard bulkhead.

"Look!" cried the frightened girls, pointing to the mirror.

The three Eskimos sprang forward and received something like an electric shock on beholding their own faces.

Cheenbuk turned to Nazinred, but that usually grave Indian was indulging in a patronising smile instead of sharing their surprise.

"I know what it is," he said quietly. "I have seen it before, in the stores of the fur-traders, but never so big as that."

Familiarity, it is said, breeds contempt. After gazing at themselves in the miraculous mirror for some time, an idea occurred to Anteek. He suddenly shot out his tongue, which happened to be a very long one. Anteek's reflection did the same. Thereupon Oolalik opened his mouth wide and laughed. So did Oolalik's reflection, which had such an effect upon Cheenbuk that he also burst into a fit of laughter. The girls, pressing forward to see what it was, likewise presented grinning faces, which formed such a contrast to the grave countenance of Nazinred, as he stood there in all the dignity of superior knowledge, that the whole party went off into uncontrollable explosions, which fed upon what they created until the tears were running down the cheeks of the Eskimos, and the Indian himself was constrained at last to smile benignly.

But mirth gave place to solemnity again, not unmingled with pity, as they spent hour after hour examining the various parts of the forsaken ship. Of course they could go over only a small part of it that day. When the short day came to a close they went to the shore and encamped in their usual way—not daring to sleep on board a big canoe, about which as yet they knew so little.

On shore they found more subjects of interest and perplexity, for here were several mounds marked by crosses, and a large mound surmounted by a pole on the top of which were fluttering a few remnants of red cloth. The shape of the smaller mounds naturally led them to infer that they were the graves of white men who had died there, but the large mound was inexplicable until Nazinred recollected having seen a flag hoisted on a pole at the fort on Great Bear Lake.

"I remember," he said to Cheenbuk, "that the traders used to hoist a piece of cloth to the top of a pole like this, at times, when something of importance happened. Perhaps the chief of the big canoe died and was buried here, and they hoisted the red cloth over him to mark the place."

"My father may be right," observed the Eskimo; "but why did they put such a heap of stones above him?"

"Perhaps to keep the bears from getting at him," returned the Indian thoughtfully, "or, it may be, to show him great respect."

Resting satisfied with these surmises, the two men returned to their encampment without disturbing the mound, which was, in all probability, a cairn covering a record of the expedition which had come to such an untimely end.

Next day, the moment there was enough of light to enable them to resume the search, the Eskimos hurried on board the ship and began to ransack every hole and corner, and they found much that caused their eyes to glitter with the delight of men who have unexpectedly discovered a mine of gold. Among other things, they found in a small room which had been used as a blacksmith's forge, large quantities of hoop, bar, and rod-iron. While Cheenbuk and Oolalik were rejoicing over this find, Anteek rushed in upon them in a state of considerable excitement with something in his hand. It was a large watch of the double-cased "warming-pan" tribe.

"Listen!" exclaimed the boy, holding it up to Cheenbuk's ear, and giving it a shake; "it speaks."

"What is it?" murmured the Eskimo.

"I don't know, but it does not like shaking, for it only speaks a little when I shake it. I tried squeezing, but it does not care for that."

Here again Nazinred's superior knowledge came into play, though to a limited extent.

"I have seen a thing like that," he said. "The trader at the great fresh-water lake had one. He carried it in a small bag at his waist, and used often to pull it out and look at it. He never told me what it was for, but once he let me hear it speak. It went on just like this one—tik, tik, tik—but it did not require shaking or squeezing. I think it had a tongue like some of our squaws, who never stop speaking. One day when I went into the trader's house I saw it lying on the thing with four legs which the white men put their food on when they want to eat, and it was talking away to itself as fast as ever."

They were still engaged with this mystery when a cry of delight from Nootka drew them back to the cabin, where they found the girl clothed in a pilot-cloth coat, immensely too large for her. She was standing admiring herself in the mirror—so quickly had her feminine intelligence applied the thing to its proper use; and, from the energetic but abortive efforts she made to wriggle round so as to obtain a view of her back, it might have been supposed that she had been trained to the arts of civilisation from childhood.

With equal and earnest assiduity Cowlik was engaged in adorning her head with a black flannel-lined sou'-wester, but she had some trouble with it, owing to the height of her top-knot of hair.

Ridiculous though the two girls might have looked in our eyes, in those of their companions they only seemed peculiar and interesting, for the step between the sublime and ridiculous is altogether relative, in Eskimo-land as elsewhere. There was no opportunity, however, to dwell long in contemplation of any new thing, for the discoveries came thick and fast. Cowlik had barely succeeded in pulling the ear-pieces of the sou'-wester well down, and tying the strings under her fat chin, when a tremendous clanking was heard, as of some heavy creature approaching the cabin door. Cheenbuk dropped forward the point of his spear, and Nazinred kept his gun handy. Not that they were actually alarmed, of course, but they felt that in such unusual circumstances the least they could do was to be ready for whatever might befall—or turn up.

A moment later and Aglootook stalked into the cabin, his legs encased in a pair of fishermen's sea-boots, so large that they seemed quite to diminish his natural proportions.

In all their discoveries, however, they did not find a single scrap of any kind of food. It was quite clear that the poor fellows had held by the ship as long as provisions lasted, in the hope, no doubt, that they might ultimately succeed in working their way out of the ice, and then, when inevitable starvation stared them in the face, they had tried to escape in their boats, but without success—at least in one case, though how many boats had thus left to undertake the forlorn hope of storming the strongholds of the polar seas it was impossible to tell.

On the second night, as the Eskimos sat in their igloe at supper talking over the events of the day, Nazinred asked Cheenbuk what he intended to do—

"For," said he, "it is not possible to take back with us on one sledge more than a small part of the many good things that we have found."

"The man-of-the-woods is right," interposed the magician; "he is wise. One sledge cannot carry much. I told you that we were sure to find something. Was I not right? Have we not found it? My advice now is that we go back with as much as we can carry, and return with four or five sledges—or even more,—and take home all that it is possible to collect."

"Aglootook is always full of knowledge and wisdom," remarked Cheenbuk, as he drove his powerful teeth into a tough bear-steak, and struggled with it for some moments before continuing his remarks; "but—but—ha! he does not quite see through an iceberg. I will—(Give me another, Nootka, with more fat on it),—I will go back, as he wisely advises, with as much as the sledge will carry, and will return not only with four or five sledges, but with all the sledges we have got, and all the dogs, and all the men and women and children—even to the smallest babe that wears no clothes and lives in its mother's hood, and sucks blubber. The whole tribe shall come here and live here, and make use of the good things that have fallen in our way, till the time of open water draws near. Then we will drive to the place where we have left our kayaks and oomiaks, some of us will go to Waruskeek, and some to pay a visit to the Fire-spouters at Whale River.—Give me another lump, Nootka. The last was a little one, and I am hungry."

The grandeur of Cheenbuk's plan, as compared with Aglootook's suggestion, was so great that the poor magician collapsed.

Anteek looked at him. Then he covered his young face with his hands and bent his head forward upon his knees. It was too early for going to rest. The boy might have been sleeping, but there was a slight heaving of the young shoulders which was not suggestive of repose.

Later on in the evening, while Nazinred was enjoying his pipe, and the Eskimos were looking on in unspeakable admiration, Cheenbuk remembered that the last time he quitted the ship he had left his spear behind him.

"I'll go and fetch it," said Anteek, who possessed that amiable and utterly delightful nature which offers to oblige, or do a service, without waiting to be asked. In a few minutes he was out upon the ice on his errand. Soon he gained the snow staircase, and, running up, made his way to the cabin where the spear had been left.

Now it chanced that a polar bear, attracted perhaps by the odour of cooked food, had wandered near to the ship and observed the young Eskimo ascend. Polar bears are not timid. On the contrary, they are usually full of courage. They are also full of curiosity. The night was clear, and when that bear saw the youth go up the stair, it immediately went to the place to inspect it. Courage and caution are not necessarily antagonistic. On arriving at the foot of the stair it paused to paw and otherwise examine it. Then it began to ascend slowly, as if doubtful of consequences.

Now, if it were not for coincidences a great many of the extraordinary events of this life would never have happened. For instance—but the instances are so numerous that it may be well not to begin them. It happened that just as the bear began to ascend the snow staircase Anteek with the spear in his hand began to ascend the companion-ladder. But the chief point of the coincidence lay here—that just as the bear reached the top of the stair the boy reached the very same spot, and next moment the two stood face to face within four feet of each other.

We will not go into the irrelevant question which was the more surprised. Anteek at once uttered a yell, compounded of courage, despair, ferocity, horror, and other ingredients, which startled into wild confusion all the echoes of the cliffs. The bear opened its mouth as if to reply, and the boy instantly rammed the spear into it.

He could not have done anything worse, except run away, for a bear's mouth is tough. Happily, however, the monster was standing in a very upright position, and the violence of the thrust sent him off his balance. He fell backwards down the stair, and came on the ice with an astounding crash that doubled him up and crushed all the wind out of his lungs in a bursting roar.

Fortunately his great weight caused the destruction of five or six of the lower steps, so that when he rose and tried viciously to re-ascend, he was unable to do so.

Of course the uproar brought the men on shore to the rescue, and while the bear was making furious attempts to reconstruct the broken staircase, Nazinred went close up and put a bullet in its brain.



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

THE SHIP RE-VISITED AND RE-EXPLORED.

Cheenbuk's plan was afterwards fully carried out. On the return of the party with all their wonderful news and wealth of old iron, the greatest excitement prevailed in the tribe, and the persons composing the expedition became heroes and heroines for the time being. Each member formed a centre of attraction and a subject of cross-examination to its own particular relatives and friends.

In the igloe of Aglootook was assembled, perhaps, one of the most surprised, if not one of the most credulous, of the gatherings—for the magician had a strong hold on the imagination of the greater number of his tribe, and a wonderful power of oratory. His wife in particular idolised him, which said much for his amiability, and his only sister worshipped him, which spoke volumes for her gullibility.

"Yes," he exclaimed, gazing round on the circle of his admirers; "I said from the first that this would be a wonderful trip, and that we would be sure to find something. And did we not find it?"

(Vigorous assent by look and voice from the audience.)

"And," he continued, with a lowered voice and solemn look, "if Cheenbuk had not turned to the left when I told him, we never would have found it."

"But what was it like?" asked an elderly man with a squat-nose, whose mind was not quite clear, although he had already listened to an elaborate description.

"Like? Ho! it was like—like—"

"Like a big kayak?" remarked some one.

"No, no. Far, far bigger," said the magician, making an imbecile attempt to indicate inconceivable size by waving arms and outspread fingers; "it was—as big—as—as—"

"A whale?" suggested Squat-nose.

"Bigger—Bigger!" said Aglootook, with a lost look in his eyes. "You could stuff twenty igloes into it; and there were three great poles rising out of it as thick as—as me, with other poles across them, low down and high up, and walrus-lines hanging about in all directions, some as thick as my wrist, others as thin as my finger, and strange igloes inside of it—not of snow, but of wood—with all kinds of things you could think of in there; and things that—that—you could not think of even if you were to try—that nobody ever thought of since the world began—wonderful!"

This seemed to fairly take away the breath of the audience, for they could only glare and remain dumb. For a few moments they breathed hard, then Squat-nose said in a deep whisper—

"Go on."

Aglootook did go on, and kept going on so long that his audience were forced to go off and assuage the pangs of hunger which prolonged abstinence and mental excitement at last rendered unendurable. But no sooner was appetite appeased than the magician and his hearers returned to the subject with redoubled energy.

"Is it very, very far away?" asked Aglootook's wife, with a sigh, when he explained to her the wonders of the mirror.

"Yes, a long, long way, and some of the ice is very rough for the dogs."

"Not too far for some of us to go and return before the open water?" Squat-nose ventured to hope.

"Plenty of time," returned Aglootook, with a patronising smile. "In fact I advised Cheenbuk to start away back as fast as possible with many sledges, so that my woman will see it with her own eyes."

"And me too?" exclaimed the sister, bringing her palms together with a smack.

"And you too. I advised Cheenbuk to take the whole tribe there to stay till the time of open water, and he agreed. Cheenbuk is a wise young man: he always takes my advice."

The subject of this eulogium was meanwhile giving a graphic and much more truthful account of the expedition to Adolay, Mangivik, his mother, and a select circle of friends; yet, although he did his best, like Aglootook, to convey an adequate impression of what they had seen, we make bold to say that the utmost power of language in the one, and of imagination in the other, failed to fill the minds of those unsophisticated natives with a just conception of the truth.

But they did succeed in filling most of their hearts with an unconquerable desire to go and see for themselves, so that no difficulty was experienced in persuading the whole tribe—men, women, children, and dogs—to consent to a general migration.

Even Anteek held his court that night in the tent of old Uleeta.

Since the death of Gartok Anteek had shown much sympathy with that poor old woman. Ill-natured people, (for there are such in Eskimo-land), said that sympathy with young Uleeta had something to do with his frequent visits to the tent. Well, and why not? The sympathy was not the less sincere that it was extended to both.

Anyhow, a large circle of juvenile admirers of both sexes assembled under the snow roof to hear the young lecturer, and we are inclined to think that his discourse was quite as instructive and interesting as the narratives of his seniors. He did not exaggerate anything, for Anteek was essentially truthful in spirit. Nothing would induce him to lie or to give a false impression if he could help it, but the vivid play of his fancy and the sparkling flow of his young imagination were such that he kept his audience in a constant ripple of amusement and fever of anticipation. He was particularly strong on Aglootook, and whatever that wily magician gained in the esteem of the adults, he certainly lost among the juveniles.

So eager were the Eskimos to see the wonderful sights that had been described to them, that they at once set about preparation for departure. On the second day after the return of the exploring party the entire village, having previously hidden away in a secure place the things already obtained from the ship, mounted their sledges and commenced their journey amid much noise and glee in the direction of what was to them the far east.

It is needless, and would be tedious, to carry the patient reader a second time over the same ground. Suffice it to say that when they reached the spot, and were introduced to the white man's "Big kayak," they felt disposed to echo the words of the Queen of Sheba, and exclaim that half had not been told them—not even although that huge humbug Aglootook had told them a great deal too much!

New circumstances are apt to engender new conditions in savage as well as civilised life. It is scarcely credible what an amount of hitherto latent vanity was evoked by that mirror in the cabin, and that too in the most unlikely characters. Mangivik, for instance, spent much of his time the first few days in admiring his grey locks in the glass. And old Uleeta, although one of the plainest of the tribe, seemed never to tire of looking at herself. Squat-nose, also, was prone to stand in front of that mirror, making hideous faces at himself and laughing violently; but there is reason to believe that it was not vanity which influenced him so much as a philosophical desire to ascertain the cause of his own ugliness! Aglootook likewise wasted much of his valuable time before it.

A new sense of shame was by this means developed among these natives, as well as the power to blush; because after people had been interrupted frequently in this act of self-admiration, they were laughed at, and the constant recurrence of this laughter aroused a feeling of indignation, at the same time a tendency to hop away and pretend interest in other things! Squat-nose never did this. All his actions were open as the day—of course we mean the summer day,—and he would sometimes invite an intruder to come and have a look at his reflection, as if it were a treat. Hence our opinion of his motive.

Not so the magician. The very way he stood, and moved about, and frowned at his double, betrayed his state of mind, while the sensitive way in which he started off to gaze out at the stern windows or have a look at the swinging barometer showed his feeling of guilt when caught in the act. Anteek soon found this out, and was wont to lie in wait so as to catch him in the act suddenly and with exasperating frequency.

After the first excitement of arrival was over, the Eskimos built igloes on the shore and settled down to dismantle the vessel and take possession of her stores, and of all that could be of use to them. They built an elongated oval igloe on the shore as a store to receive the lighter and, as they esteemed them, more valuable articles. Among these were included all the axes, hoop-iron, and other pieces of manageable metal that could be easily carried. There were also numbers of tin cans, iron pots, cups, glass tumblers, earthenware plates, and other things of the kind, which were esteemed a most valuable possession by people whose ordinary domestic furniture consisted chiefly of seal-skin bowls and shallow stone dishes.

During the few days that followed, the whole colony of men, women, and children were busily occupied in running between the ship and the big store with loads proportioned to their strength, and with joviality out of all proportion to their size, for it must be borne in mind that these children of the ice had discovered not only a mine of inconceivable wealth, but a mine, so to speak, of inexhaustible and ever recurring astonishments, which elevated their eyebrows continually to the roots of their hair, and bade fair to fix them there for ever!

Perplexities were also among the variations of entertainment to which they were frequently treated. Sometimes these were more or less cleared up after the assembled wit and wisdom of the community had frowned and bitten their nails over them for several hours. Others were of a nature which it passed the wit of man—Eskimo man at least—to unravel. A few of these, like the watch, had some light thrown on them by Nazinred, who had either seen something like them in use among the fur-traders, or whose sagacity led him to make a shrewd occasional guess.

One object, however, defied the brain-power alike of Indian and Eskimo; and no wonder, for it was a wooden leg, discovered by Anteek in what must have been the doctor's cabin—or a cabin which had been used for doctor's stuff and material. Like letters of the alphabet given in confusion for the purpose of being formed into words, this leg puzzled investigators because of their inevitable tendency to lead off on a wrong scent by assuming that the leg part was the handle of the instrument, and the part for the reception of the thigh a—a—something for—for—doing, they couldn't tell what!

Sitting round the stone lamp after supper, some of them passed the mysterious object from hand to hand, and commented on it freely. The leg was quite new, so that there were no marks of any kind about it to afford a clue to its use.

Probably it had been made by the ship's carpenter for some unfortunate member of the crew who had come by an accident, and died before he could avail himself of it.

Suddenly the magician exclaimed—

"I know! I always knew that I would know, if I only thought hard enough. It is a club for fighting with. When the white men go to war they always use these things."

Grasping it in both hands, he swung it round his head, and made as though he would knock Oolalik down with it, causing that young Eskimo to shrink back in feigned alarm.

"That may be so," said Cheenbuk, with serious gravity. "I wonder we did not think of it before."

"But if so," objected Nazinred, who always took things seriously, "what is the use of the hollow in its head, and for what are these lines and ties fixed about it?"

"Don't you see?" said Cheenbuk, with increased seriousness, "after knocking your enemy down with it you pour his blood into the hollow till it is full, let it freeze, and then tie it up to keep it safe, so that you can carry it home to let your wife see what you have done."

The usual quiet glance at Anteek had such an effect on that youth that he would have certainly exploded had he not been struck by an idea which displaced all tendency to laugh.

"I know," he cried eagerly. "You're all wrong; it is a hat!"

So saying, he seized the leg out of the magician's hand and thrust it on his head with the toe pointing upwards.

There was a tendency to approve of this solution, and the boy, tying two of the straps under his chin, sprang up, in the pride of his discovery. But his pride had a fall, for the leap thrust the leg through the snow roof of the hut, and the novel head-dress was wrenched off as he staggered back into Cheenbuk's arms.

Despite this mishap, it was received by most of those present as a probable explanation of the difficulty, and afterwards Anteek went proudly about wearing the wooden leg on his head. The style of cap proved rather troublesome, however, when he was engaged in his researches between decks, for more than once, forgetting to stoop low, he was brought up with an unpleasant jerk.

In a forest, as Nazinred suggested, the high crest might have been inconvenient, but out on the floes the unencumbered immensity of the Arctic sky afforded the boy room to swagger to his heart's content.

Another discovery of great interest was the carpenter's cabin. Unlike most of the other cabins, the door of this one was locked, and the key gone, though if it had been there no one would have guessed its use. Peeping in through a crack, however, Cheenbuk saw so many desirable things that he made short work of the obstruction by plunging his weight against it. The door went down with a crash, and the Eskimo on the top of it. The sight that met his gaze amply repaid him, however, for there were collected in symmetrical array on the walls, saws, chisels, gimlets, gouges, bradawls, etcetera, while on a shelf lay planes, mallets, hammers, nails, augers—in short, every variety of boring, hammering, and cutting implement that can be imagined.

An hour after the discovery of that cabin, there was not a man or boy in the tribe who was not going about with cut fingers, more or less. Experience, however, very soon taught them caution.

And here again the superior knowledge of Nazinred came in usefully. Like most Indians, he was a man of observation. He had seen the fur-traders in their workshops, and had noted their tools. Taking up a hand-saw he seized a piece of stick, and, although not an expert, sawed a lump off the end of it in a few seconds. As this would probably have cost an Eskimo full half an hour to accomplish with his blunt knives, they were suitably impressed, and Cheenbuk, seizing the saw, forthwith attempted to cut off the end of a rod of iron—with what effect it is scarcely necessary to explain.

In the course of a few days the quantity of material brought on shore was so great that it was found necessary to begin a second storehouse. While most of the natives were engaged on this, Cheenbuk and the Indian continued their researches in the ship, for a vast part of its deep hold still remained unexplored, owing partly to the slowness of the investigation in consequence of the frequent bursts of amazement and admiration, as well as the numerous discussions that ensued—all of which required time.

While going more minutely into the contents of the cabin, they came, among other things, on a variety of charts and books.

"Have you ever seen things like these?" asked Cheenbuk in a tone of veneration, based on the belief that the Indian had seen nearly everything the world contained.

"Never—except that," he replied, pointing to a log-book; "the traders use things like that. They open them and make marks in them."

Cheenbuk immediately opened the book in question and found marks—plenty of them; but of course could make nothing of them, even after turning them sideways and upside-down. As the Indian was equally incapable, they returned the whole into the locker in which they had found them, intending to carry them on shore when the new store should be ready for the reception of goods.

This was unfortunate, in some respects, as the next chapter will show.



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

CURIOSITY AND PRESUMPTION FOLLOWED BY CATASTROPHE.

Most of the able-bodied men and a few of the youngsters set off next day to obtain a supply of walrus, seal, and musk-ox flesh—or anything else that happened to be procurable.

Mrs Mangivik and other ladies were left to look after the camp and prepare for the return of the men, strict orders being left that no one should go on board the ship on any pretext whatever.

But strict orders are not always obeyed. There was one little boy in that community—not a bad boy, but a precocious and very ambitious boy— who chanced not to hear the orders given. Whether he was partially deaf, or purposely did not hear the orders, we cannot say. This little boy's chief weakness was a desire to mimic. Having admired the wooden leg on Anteek's head, and having observed where Anteek had stowed the leg away before setting off with the hunters, he possessed himself of it, put it on his head, and strutted about the camp to the admiration and envy of all his compeers; for he was a very daring and domineering boy, although small. His name was Doocheek.

Another of Doocheek's weaknesses was a desire to ape the men, and think himself a man in consequence. This, coupled with a consuming curiosity in regard to Nazinred's tobacco-pipe, caused him to observe—for he was remarkably observant—that the Indian had, for the first time since he resided among them, gone off on an expedition and left his pipe behind him—accidentally, no doubt. Doocheek watched his opportunity and secured the fire-bag which contained the smoking implements. Stolen waters are sweet, even in cold climates where all the waters freeze, and the boy cast about for a secluded place in which he might enjoy the sweetness of his pipe to the full without fear of interruption. A blue cavern in an iceberg might do, but the atmosphere in such caves was rather cold. Under the cliffs there were many sheltered places, but the juvenile members of the community were playing there, and would certainly intrude. Out on the floes was an exposed place—to vision as well as to wind and drift. What was left to him, then, but the ship?

Hurrying through the village in order to carry out his plans, the boy encountered Mrs Mangivik at the entrance to her hut.

"Where are you going, Doocheek?" demanded the woman, with a look of suspicion born of frequent experience.

With that spirit of ambiguous contradiction which would seem to prevail among the youth of all nations, Doocheek replied, "Nowhere."

It is interesting to observe how that remarkable answer seems to satisfy inquirers, in nine cases out of ten, everywhere! At all events Mrs Mangivik smiled as if she were satisfied, and re-entered her hut, where Nootka was engaged in conversation with Adolay, while she taught her how to make Eskimo boots.

"Did not Cheenbuk forbid every one to go near the big kayak while the men were away?" demanded the woman.

"Yes he did," answered Nootka, without raising her eyes.—"Now look here, Ad-dolay. You turn the toe up this way, and the heel down that way, and shove your needle in so, and then—"

"I am very sure," interrupted Mrs Mangivik, "that little Doocheek has gone down there. There's not another little boy in the tribe but himself would dare to do it."

"He will lose some of his skin if he does," said Nootka quietly— referring not to any habit of the Eskimos to flay bad boys alive, but to their tendency to punish the refractory in a way that was apt to ruffle the cuticle.

Quite indifferent to all such prospects in store for him, the boy hurried on until he reached the foot of the snow staircase. It had been repaired by that time, and the deck was easily gained. Descending to a part of the interior which was rather dark—for the boy was aware that his deeds were evil—he sat down on a locker and opened his fire-bag.

Eskimos are not quite free from superstition. Doocheek had plenty of natural courage, but he was apt to quail before the supernatural. Apart from the conscience, which even in Arctic bosoms tends to produce cowardice, the strange surroundings of the place—the deep shadows, merging into absolute obscurity, and the feeling of mystery that attached to everything connected with the vessel—all had the effect of rendering Doocheek's enjoyment somewhat mixed. To look at him as he sat there, glaring nervously on all sides, one would have been tempted to say that his was what might be called a fearful joy. If a rat or a mouse had scurried past him at that moment he would have fled precipitately, but no rat or mouse moved. Probably they were all frozen, and he had the place entirely to himself—too much to himself. He began at that point to wish that he had brought another little boy, or even a girl, with him, to keep up his courage and share in his triumphant wickedness.

However, as nothing happened, his courage began to return, and he emptied the contents of the bag on the locker. He knew exactly what to do, for many a time had he watched the Indian fill his pipe and produce fire with flint, steel, and tinder. Beginning with the pipe, he filled it, and then proceeded to strike a light. Of course he found this much more difficult than he had expected. It seemed so easy in the Indian's hands—it was so very difficult in his! After skinning his knuckles, however, chipping his thumb-nail, and knocking the flint out of his hand several times, he succeeded in making the right stroke, and a shower of sparks rewarded his perseverance.

This was charming. The place was so dark that the sparks seemed as large and bright as stars, while the darkness that followed was deeper by contrast. Forgetting the pipe and tobacco in this new-found joy, Doocheek kept pelting away at the flint, sending showers of sparks past his knees, and some of them were so large that they even fell upon the deck before going out.

But an abrupt stop was put to his amusement. Whether it was that something or other in the sides of the ship had given way, or the energetic action of the boy had shaken some fastening loose, we cannot say, but just as he was in the act of raising his hand for another feu-de-joie, a shelf over his head gave way, and a perfect avalanche of pots, pans, and noisy tin articles came down with a hideous crash on the deck!

To leap from the locker like a bomb-shell, and go straight up the hatchway like a rocket, was only natural. Doocheek did that as far as was compatible with flesh and blood. He could not remember afterwards by what process he reached the ice and found himself on the skirts of the village. But at that point his self-control returned, and he sauntered home—flushed, it is true, and a little winded, yet with the nonchalant air of a man who had just stepped out to "have a look at the weather." His conscience was rather troubled, it is true, when he thought of the fire-bag and the pipe, etcetera, left behind, but nothing would have induced him to return for these at that time.

Towards evening the walrus-hunters returned. They had been very successful. The sledges were loaded up with the meat of several large animals, so that there was a prospect of unlimited feasting for more than a week to come.

"Now, old woman," said Cheenbuk with cheery irreverence to his mother, and with that good-natured familiarity which is often engendered by good fortune, "stir up the lamps and get ready the marrow-bones!"

Regardless of lamps and marrow-bones, all the children of the community, even to the smallest babes, were sucking raw blubber as children in less favoured lands suck lollipops.

"Had you to go far?" asked Adolay.

"Not far. We found them all close by, and would have been back sooner, but some of them fought hard and took up much time," answered Cheenbuk, who awaited the cooking process; for since he had discovered the Indian girl's disgust at raw meat, he had become a total abstainer on the point.

"And," he added, beginning to pull off his boots, "if your father had not been there with the spouter we should have been out on the floes fighting still, for some of the walruses were savage, and hard to kill."

After supper, as a matter of course, Nazinred looked round with an air of benign satisfaction on his fine face.

"Is my fire-bag behind you, Adolay?" he asked in a low voice.

Doocheek was present and heard the question, but of course did not understand it, as it was put in the Dogrib tongue. The search, however, which immediately began induced him to retire promptly and absent himself from home for the time being.

"It is not here, father."

A more careful search was made, then a most careful one, but no fire-bag was to be found.

"Perhaps Nootka took it to her sleeping-place to keep it safe," suggested old Mangivik.

No; Nootka had seen nothing of it, and Nootka was not a little annoyed when, in spite of her assertion, a search was made in her boudoir, and not a little triumphant when the search proved fruitless.

"Surely no one has taken it away," said Cheenbuk, looking round with an expression that would have sunk Doocheek through the snow into the earth if he had been there.

"If any one has taken it away," said Aglootook, with a profundity of meaning in his tone that was meant to paralyse the guilty, and serve as a permanent caution to the innocent, "something awful will happen. I don't say what, but something; so it will be as well to confess, for I'm sure to find it out—if not soon, then in a long time."

For some moments after this there was dead silence, but nobody confessed, and they all looked at each other as if they expected some one to go off like a cannon shot through the roof suddenly, and were somewhat disappointed that no one did.

By degrees they began to breathe more freely, and at last some went out to seek repose in their own huts, while the inmates of Mangivik's dwelling began to turn in for the night. Nootka and Adolay retired to the boudoir, and the men, drawing bear or seal-skins over them, lay down, each where he had feasted.

Nazinred alone remained sitting up, the victim of unsatisfied craving. North American Indians are noted for their power to conceal their feelings, and Nazinred was not an exception to the rule, for no sign did he betray of the longing desire for a pipe that consumed him. Only a tendency to silence, and a deeper solemnity than usual, seemed to indicate that all was not as he would wish.

At last he lay down. About an hour afterwards, finding that he could not sleep, he arose, cast an envious glance at the peaceful slumberers around him, crept through the entrance tunnel, and stood erect outside, with a gaze of subdued inquiry at the starry host overhead. Bringing his eyes slowly down to the things of earth, his gaze changed suddenly into one of wild alarm.

The cause was obvious enough. When Doocheek fled from the avalanche of pots and tins, as before mentioned, he failed to observe that one of the sparks, which had filled him with delight, had remained nestling and alive in a mass of cotton-waste, or some such rubbish, lying on the lower deck. With the tendency of sparks to increase and propagate their species, this particular one soon had a large and vigorous family of little sparks around it. A gentle puff of wind made these little ones lively, and induced them, after the manner of little ones everywhere, to scatter on exploring rambles. Like juveniles, too, their food at first was simple,—a few more mouthfuls of waste and a bit of rope here and there; hence their progress was slow and quiet. But time and increasing strength soon made them impatient of such light food. Ere long they created a draught of their own, and were blown into a flame. Then some of them laid hold of some bedding, while others seized upon a bulkhead, and, gathering courage from success, they finally enveloped the 'tween-decks in a mass of flame.

It was at this point in the business that the eyes of Nazinred beheld a column of smoke rising from the after-companion hatch which threw his own smoking powers entirely into the shade, and induced him to utter an unreasoning war-whoop that roused the Eskimo tribe as if by a shock of electricity.

The entire population rushed out like one man. They saw the smoke, with a lurid flame licking out here and there amid the blackness, and seeing the Indian flying down the beach as if he were witch-possessed—as indeed he was—they uttered a united howl, and made off in the same direction.

Fire brigades, of course, are unknown among the Eskimos, but the way in which Cheenbuk improvised and organised an Arctic brigade might have roused the envy even of the London force!

Great men are always with us, though not always recognised. It requires specially great occasions to draw them forth, and make them visible even to themselves. Many a time in former years had Cheenbuk spilt water on the cooking-lamp and put it out. Water at once occurred to his mind in connection with the tremendous lamp that was now fairly alight. But water was at that time locked up seven or eight feet under the solid ice. The active mind of the Eskimo naturally reverted to snow ere yet he had covered the distance between ship and shore. We say naturally, because he was quite aware that snow also extinguished lamps.

Cutting a huge block of snow with his bone knife from the beaten plain, he shouted in a voice of thunder: "Hi! every one. Look at me! Do as I do!"

He shouldered the mass, sprang up the snow stair, and plunged down the smoking hatchway.

Cheenbuk and Oolalik, who were as quick to obey as to command—perhaps quicker—followed their leader's example. Others followed suit according to their respective natures and capacities. Anteek, bearing a mass nearly as big as himself, also dashed below in wild excitement. Some of the young men tumbled their burdens of snow down the smoking hole and went back for more. Even old Mangivik did that as fast as his rheumatic limbs would let him. Raventik, reckless as usual, sprang down with a mighty lump, but finding the atmosphere below uncongenial, hurled it towards his predecessors, and sprang up again for a fresh supply, watering at the eyes and choking. The poor invalid Ondikik walked as hard as his fast-failing strength would permit. The women even, led by the thoroughly roused Cowlik, bore their share in the work. The children took prompt advantage of the occasion to enjoy by far the wildest game that had ever yet been suggested to their imaginations, and Aglootook the magician, seeing that something had come at last to verify his predictions, stood by the capstan and appointed himself to the command of the upper deck brigade, while the others were battling with the flames below.

The battle was indeed a tough one; for the fire had got a firm hold, not only of the materials already mentioned, but also of a mass of canvas and cordage in what must have been the sail-maker's department, and the smoke was growing so dense that it was becoming difficult for the firemen to breathe.

"Here! Nazinred, Oolalik, throw the biggest lumps you can lift over there."

Cheenbuk pointed to what seemed a red-hot spot in the dense smoke before them, and set them the example by heaving a gigantic mass at the same place.

A tremendous hiss came forth as the snow was converted into steam, but there was no abatement in the roar of the devouring element as it licked up everything around it, making the iron bolts red, and, though not themselves combustible, assistants to combustion.

"More snow, Anteek! more snow!" gasped Cheenbuk.

The boy, with a mass of half-melted snow still in his hand, sprang up the ladder, scarce knowing what he did, and appeared on deck, blackened and wildly dishevelled. Aglootook was close to the opening at the moment, giving sententious directions to some little boys. Anteek hurled the snow-mass full at his face with the force of an ardent nature intensified by contempt, and sent him sprawling among the children as he leaped over the side to carry out his orders.

But no energy on the part of Cheenbuk and his comrades, no efforts on the part of their assistants, strong or feeble, could avert that ship's doom. Ere long the smoke and heat between decks became unbearable, and drove the gallant leaders back, inch by inch, foot by foot, until they were compelled to take refuge on the upper deck, when nothing more could be done to arrest the progress of the flames. They retired therefore to the quarter-deck, where the whole of the Eskimos—men, women, and children—assembled to look on at the destruction which they could not now prevent.

"This is a great loss," observed Cheenbuk regretfully, as he sat on the after-rail, mopping the perspiration off his blackened face with his sleeve.

"It might have been a greater loss," said Nazinred, glancing towards the well-filled storehouses on shore.

"That is true; but just think of what a supply of wood for spears and sledges! It would have been enough to last the lives of our children's children, if not longer."

"Did I not tell you that something would happen?" said Aglootook, coming forward at that moment.

"Yes, and something did happen," said old Mangivik, "though I could not see how it happened, for the smoke. Did not a lump of snow fly in your face and knock you over among the children?"

The magician ignored the question altogether, and, turning to Cheenbuk, asked if he thought there was yet any chance of saving the ship.

"Not unless you manage to send some of your magic down and stop the fire."

"That is not possible," returned the other, with a wisely grave look. "I can do much, but I cannot do that."

As he spoke, a fresh roar of the fire up the hatch-way attracted attention. Gathering strength, it burst up in a bright flame, showing that the quarter-deck could not long remain a place of security.

Suddenly Nazinred showed signs of excitement which were very unusual in him. Fighting the walrus or bear, or battling with the fire, had never produced such an expression as crossed his face, while he cast a hasty glance round on the women and children, whose forms were by that time lit up by the dull red glow that issued from the column of smoke.

"Cheenbuk," he said in a low voice, "the black stuff that I put in my spouter is kept by traders in round things—I forget the name. If there is one of these round things here, and it catches fire, we shall, every one of us, with the ship, be sent up to the stars!"

The remark was meant to reach the ear of the leader alone, but several of those around heard it, and a wild rush was instantly made for the snow stair, amid feminine and juvenile shrieks. Aglootook incontinently hurled himself over the side, and fell on his hands and knees on the ice, where an opportune snow-drift saved him. Most of the party ran or leaped out of the threatened danger.

"Does not my father think that we should go?" asked Cheenbuk, who began to feel uneasy as a fresh burst of flame set fire to the canvas awning, and made the place they stood on unpleasantly hot.

"Yes, my son, he does," replied Nazinred; "but it does not become men to run from danger."

So saying he began to move as if in a funeral procession, closely followed by Cheenbuk, Oolalik, and old Mangivik.

As they reached the head of the staircase something like an explosion occurred, for the deck was partially burst up by the heat. The three Eskimos, who did not think their dignity affected by haste, leaped down the stair in two bounds, but Nazinred did not alter his walk in the least. Step by step he descended deliberately, and walked in stolid solemnity to the spot on which the community had assembled as a place of safety.

They did not speak much after that, for the sight was too thrilling and too novel to admit of conversation. Shouts and exclamations alone broke forth at intervals.

The danger to which they had been exposed while on the quarter-deck became more apparent when a clear bright flame at length shot upwards, and, catching some of the ropes, ran along and aloft in all directions.

Hitherto the fire had been much smothered by its own smoke and the want of air below, but now that it had fairly burst its bonds and got headway, it showed itself in its true character as a fierce and insatiable devourer of all that came in its way.

Catching hold of the awning over the deck, it swept fore and aft like a billow, creating such heat that the spectators were forced to retreat to a still safer distance. From the awning it licked round the masts, climbed them, caught the ropes and flew up them, sweeping out upon the yards to their extreme ends, so that, in a few minutes, the ship was ablaze from hold to truck, and stem to stern.

Then the event which Nazinred had referred to occurred. The flames reached the powder magazine. It exploded, and the terrified natives yelled their feelings, while the entire structure went up into the heavens with a roar to which the loudest thunder could not compare, and a sheet of intense light that almost blinded them.

The explosion blew out every fork of flame, great and small, and left an appalling blackness by contrast, while myriads of red-hot fragments fell in a shower on the ice, and rebounded from it, like evil spirits dancing around the tremendous wreck that they had caused.

Fortunately the Eskimos were beyond the range of the fiery shower. When they ventured, with awe-stricken looks, to approach the scene of the catastrophe, only a yawning cavern in the floe remained to tell of the stately vessel that had thus ended her final voyage.



CHAPTER THIRTY.

A DECLARATION, AN INTERRUPTION, AND A GREAT FIGHT.

The loss which the Eskimos sustained in the destruction of the ship was in one sense considerable, for the woodwork about her would have been of immense value to them; nevertheless their gains in what had already been stored were very great, so that they were able to regard their losses with philosophic composure.

The weeks that followed—weeks of ever increasing light and warmth—were spent in examining and sorting their material into packages suitable for transport on sledges to their summer quarters at Waruskeek.

And here again the knowledge possessed by Nazinred of the habits and implements of the white men was of great service. Adolay also helped to instruct, for when among the sail-maker's tools they found a number of the finer sort of needles and threads, as well as a few feminine thimbles, so to speak, she was able to show the women at once how to use them, and thus saved them from the trouble of puzzling out the matter for themselves.

"What is this?" asked Anteek of Nazinred one day, presenting a file which he had just picked up.

"That is a thing," replied the Indian, who, being ignorant of the names of most tools, got over the difficulty by calling all objects "things"—"that is a thing made for cutting iron with; rubbing it down and cutting it short. It cuts things that are too hard for a knife."

"I think," returned the boy, regarding it attentively, "we might try it on Aglootook's nose. That wants cutting short, and rubbing down too, for it seems very hard to look at it."

Nazinred did not smile. He was slow to understand a joke. Perhaps he thought it a poor one, but Cheenbuk appreciated it, and met it with the suggestion that an axe might be more effective.

They were gravely debating this point in front of the snow stores, when Ondikik came up and asked when it was likely that a start would be made for home, as he styled their old winter village.

"Go and ask Mangivik. When he gives the order I'm ready," said Cheenbuk.

"Don't say a word to Aglootook," said Anteek, as the young man turned to go; "he will be sure to say that something will happen if you do."

"Yes, and as something always does happen," remarked Cheenbuk, "he's sure to be right, the moosquat."

"Moo-squat" seemed to be used as a term of extreme contempt; it may not therefore be incorrect to translate it—"humbug!"

On being consulted, old Mangivik, who was generally credited with being weather-wise and intelligent, gave it as his opinion that, as the things from the white man's kayak were all ready packed on the sledges, and the weather was very warm, and the days were growing long, and the ice and snow were melting fast, the sooner they set out the better.

Aglootook coincided with that opinion, because he had been led to the same conclusion some days before, chiefly in consequence of profound thought during the dark hours of night. "And if we don't start off now," he added at the end of a portentous oration, "no one can tell what will happen—something fearful, I know, though of course it is not possible to say what."

As no one felt disposed to object, the preparations were hurried forward, and, soon after, the whole tribe went off on the return journey, leaving behind them a black and yawning gulf in the Arctic solitude where so lately a noble ship had been.

Arrived at the old village, these lively and energetic nomads occupied themselves during the brief remainder of winter and the early spring in securely hiding the goods of which they had become possessed, excepting such light portions as they meant to carry along with them to their summer retreat. Among these were a number of bows, spears, and arrows made from the wood of the burnt vessel, with cleverly adapted iron heads, filed to fine sharp points, and burnished until they glittered in the light. Of knives and axes there were also sufficient to equip most of the young men, and those, for whom there were none, made to themselves pretty good knives out of pieces of hoop-iron.

When at last the ocean currents and summer heat broke up the solid floes and set the icebergs free to resume their majestic southward course, our Eskimos put their sledges en cache, got out kayaks and oomiaks, and, wielding both the short and the long paddle, started off towards the southwest, in the direction of Waruskeek—some of the tribe, however, with a few of the old people, remaining behind.

"Now, Adolay, we are going to take you home," said Cheenbuk, the day they started, while walking with her towards the oomiak in which she was to take her seat and a paddle. "Will the Indian girl be glad to leave us?"

The faintest possible tinge of red suffused her cheek, as she dropped her eyes and replied—

"She will be glad to get home."

"When you have got home, and stayed for a time with your people," returned Cheenbuk, who was usually blunt and to-the-point in his conversation, "will you come away with me and be my woman—my squaw?" he added, accommodating his words to the Indian vocabulary.

"I cannot leave my mother," answered the maiden in a low voice.

"That is good," returned the gallant Eskimo, "but Cheenbuk can leave his mother and his father too. If I go and live with the men-of-the-woods, will you be my squaw?"

Adolay with downcast eyes gave no answer.

It is said that silence gives consent. We are ignorant as to Arctic opinion on this point, but before light could be thrown on the subject, Anteek came rushing round the corner of a stranded berg with the exclamation—

"Hoi! Cheenbuk—here you are! We thought you must have got into the teeth of a walrus or the arms of a bear!"

Cheenbuk frowned savagely, caught Anteek by his nether garments and the nape of his neck, and, lifting him high above his head, seemed about to dash him on the ground. But, instead, he replaced him gently on his feet, and, with a benignant smile, told him to run down to the shore and put his kayak in the water so as to be ready for him.

Anteek, who was obedience personified, hastened away at once, rubbing his nether garments, and sorely perplexed as to the strange spirit which seemed so suddenly to have taken possession of the friend he so ardently idolised.

It was arranged that Nazinred, being unaccustomed to the Eskimo kayak, should voyage with the women in one of the oomiaks. To a younger brave this might have been regarded as an undignified position, but to a man of his years and tried experience it was only a subject for a passing smile. But the Indian did not accept the position of an idle passenger. Although inexpert in the use of the two-bladed paddle and the light kayak, he was thoroughly capable of using the women's paddle with the single blade, as it bore much resemblance in shape and size to that used in his native canoe. He therefore quietly assumed the post of steersman in the oomiak, which contained Madam Mangivik, Nootka, the easy-going Cowlik, the gentle Rinka, Adolay, and a variety of children and babies. The young man Oolalik, in defiance of immemorial custom, also took a seat and a paddle in that oomiak—out of pure hospitality of course, and for the sole purpose of keeping their guest company. Nootka said nothing, but she seemed amused as well as pleased at the innovation. So were the children, for Oolalik was a prime favourite with young as well as old.

Old Uleeta was the captain of another of the oomiaks, and it was observed that Aglootook cast longing and frequent glances in her direction, believing, no doubt, that a place by her side would be an easier berth than in his own kayak, with nothing but the strength of his own lazy arm to urge it on; but as there was no guest in this case to justify the breach of ancient custom on the ground of hospitality, he felt that manhood required him to stay where he was.

It was a pretty sight the starting of the little flotilla on a brilliant spring morning, with the sea as calm as a millpond, fantastic masses of white ice floating about in all directions, and mountainous bergs here and there giving dignity as well as variety, by their size and light-green sides and deep blue caverns, to a scene which might otherwise have been too suggestive of wedding-cake.

Seals, walruses, sea-birds, and numerous denizens of the deep and air, were sporting about in fearless indifference to the presence of their great enemy, man, but these were unheeded until hunger began to affect the Eskimo. Then the war began, with its usual result—"the survival of the fittest."

One day, however, there was a battle in which it came about that the tables were almost turned, and the survival, as regards the animals, very nearly reversed.

It happened thus.

We have already referred to the ferocity of the walrus when attacked. As a rule, man is the assailant. Sometimes, however, the monster of the Arctic deep assumes the offensive. On the occasion we are about to describe the attack was made in force.

The day had been brilliantly fine. The bergs had absolutely duplicated and inverted themselves by reflection, so that the sunlit pinnacles became submarine fires, and refraction stepped in to reverse, and as it were shatter, the floes on the horizon, while three mock suns glowed in the heavens at the same time—thus making the beautiful confusion still more exquisitely confounded.

"Walrus!" said Cheenbuk, pointing with the end of his long paddle in the direction of a large berg just ahead of them.

Nazinred, who was close alongside of him, ceased to paddle, and shaded his eyes with his hand. So did his crew. The whole flotilla ceased to paddle, and skimmed slowly along for some moments in dead silence.

Then Aglootook, in virtue of his office and presumption, spoke in a low voice—

"Let us pull softly, and speak not at all. There are plenty of beasts. Wonders shall be done to-day if you attend to what I say."

They all acted on his advice, whether they heard it or not, for Eskimos need no caution to be wary and silent when approaching a herd of walruses.

There appeared to be at least a hundred animals lying sunning themselves on the various ice-lumps into which the floes were broken up. On one mass about half a mile off there were some twenty rolling about and grunting comfortably to each other. Towards these the flotilla slowly drifted, for the dipping of the paddles could scarcely be seen, and was quite noiseless. By slow degrees they drew near, and then the oomiaks hung back, with the exception of that steered by Nazinred, who had got his fire-spouter ready, while Oolalik stood in the bow, harpoon in hand, and lance ready by his side. The women were not expected to take part in the action—only to look on,—but all the men in kayaks advanced. While these last went on towards the main herd, our Indian steered straight for the ice-cake on which the largest number lay, and as they drew near, the extreme ugliness of the creatures' faces and black heads became very apparent.

There was an old bull with tusks not far short of three feet long among the herd. Beside him was a young bull, which seemed from his wicked expression to be screwing up his courage to assault the old one. The rest were females and young ones of various ages, down to what seemed the very last walrus baby. Those that were grown up had bristling moustaches like porcupine-quills on their flat lips, and the young ones had tusks in different degrees of development—except the baby, whose head resembled an ill-shaped football.

They did not seem in the least afraid of the approaching oomiak. Perhaps they thought it a very dirty piece of ice covered with rather grotesque seals. At all events, although they looked at it, they went on with their mooing and rolling about, quite regardless of it, until Oolalik sent his harpoon deep into the side of one of the cows. Then indeed there was tremendous roaring and confusion, as the whole herd tumbled off the ice raft into the sea. The splash sent a cataract of spray over the Eskimos; and no wonder, for the old bull was full sixteen feet long, with barrel-bulk equal to a hogshead. Some of the others were not much smaller.

The harpoon thrown was attached to a short line, to the end of which an inflated seal-skin was fastened for the purpose of forming a drag on the animal harpooned, and, by coming to the surface, showing its whereabouts. But on this occasion the creatures required no such contrivance to bring them up, for no sooner were the two bulls in their native element than they uttered a horrible succession of roars, and made straight for the oomiak. A rip in the side of the skin boat would have been fatal, or, if one of the animals were to hook on to it with his tusks, an upset would be certain. Oolalik therefore grasped his long lance, while Nazinred steered so as to keep the bow end-on to the assailants. Another moment and Oolalik dealt the oldest bull a thrust in the neck that sent it back roaring. The cry seemed to be a summons, for answering cries were heard all round, and the walruses were seen to be converging towards their savage old chief. Meanwhile the young bull had reached the right side of the oomiak, where Cowlik sat with an easy-going look on her placid face, admiring the scene.

Nazinred was so intent on keeping the craft right that he failed to notice it until its ugly head and ponderous tusks rose above the gunwale. But Cowlik proved equal to the occasion. The easy-going look vanished, and the end of her paddle went into the throat of the brute with a thrust so vigorous that the boat was driven to one side and the tusks missed their mark. At the same moment Adolay, who sat close to her, grasped her paddle like a double-handed sword, and brought it down with surprising force on the creature's left eye. A shot from the fire-spouter followed; the ball entered the same eye, reached the brain, and the young bull sank to rise no more.

The Indian reloaded as fast as he could, but not in time for another charge from the old bull, which Oolalik met with a stab in the side that again turned him off bellowing. A still younger bull, anxious, perchance, to win its spurs, took advantage of the situation, and made a dash at the opposite side, but Nootka sent about two feet of her paddle down its throat, which induced it to reconsider its intentions.

Just then a loud report told that the spouter was again to the front. This time the ball took effect on the old bull's forehead, and remained there. It neither killed nor stunned, though it probably surprised it, for it sheered off permanently, and all the rest of the herd went away to sea along with it.

After this unexpected and dangerous encounter was over, it was found that several other animals were splashing about in a dying state, or fast to seal-skin buoys which the men in the kayaks had managed to affix to them. One of these was closely followed up by Anteek, who had very cleverly launched his harpoon.

Aglootook was also seen to be struggling with a buoy, which he was trying to haul in.

"Keep off!" he cried in great excitement when old Mangivik paddled to his assistance; "I have lanced it twice. I need no help. See, the water is full of blood!"

"That is my beast you are fighting," remarked Oolalik, as the oomiak came up. "Look at the float: it is mine."

The magician looked crestfallen. He had hoped, probably, to kill the wounded animal, secure it to his kayak, and cast loose the buoy, so that no one could claim it. He made the most of the situation, however, by asserting stoutly that if he had not lanced it well it would certainly have broken loose from the buoy.

When the whole party was assembled on a large floe, cutting up and stowing away the meat, some of the younger men began to comment on the success of the hunt, and to congratulate themselves on the large supply of fresh provisions which they had secured.

"Did I not tell you," said Aglootook, who appeared to be superintending the workers, "that wonders would be done to-day?"

"You did," replied Cheenbuk gravely, "and one of the greatest wonders was that you managed to lance a walrus!"

"It was indeed a great wonder," returned the magician, with a smile of supreme satisfaction, "for I was not hunting at all at the time—only looking on by way of encouraging the young men. It just came in my way and I killed it, easily, in passing. If I had been really hunting, then indeed," he added, with solemn emphasis, "you would have seen something to astonish you."

"I have no doubt of that!" remarked Cheenbuk. At the same moment Anteek went off into an explosion of laughter, which he accounted for by pointing at a baby-walrus which had just put its head out of the water with an expression of surprise on its innocent face that clearly indicated its inability to understand what was going on.



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

AN EXPEDITION AND A DISAPPOINTMENT.

A few days later the whole tribe arrived at their summer quarters, and no civilised family of boys and girls ever arrived at their seaside home with a more genuine expression of noisy delight than that with which those Eskimos took possession of the turf-mud-and-stone-built huts of Waruskeek.

It was not only the children who thus let loose their glee. The young men and maidens also began to romp round the old dwellings in the pure enjoyment of ancient memories and present sunshine, while the elders expressed their satisfaction by looking on with approving nods and occasional laughter. Even old Mangivik so far forgot the dignity of his advanced age as to extend his right toe, when Anteek was rushing past, and trip up that volatile youth, causing him to plunge headlong into a bush which happened to grow handy for his reception.

Nazinred alone maintained his dignity, but so far condescended to harmonise with the prevailing spirit as to smile now and then. As for Adolay, she utterly ignored the traditions of her people, and romped and laughed with the best of them, to the great delight of Nootka, who sometimes felt inclined to resent her stately ways. Cheenbuk adopted an intermediate course, sometimes playing a practical joke on the young men, at other times entering into grave converse with his Indian guest. Aglootook of course stuck to his own role. He stood on a bank of sand which overlooked the whole, and smiled gracious approval, as though he were the benignant father of a large family, whom he was charmed to see in the enjoyment of innocent mirth.

Cheenbuk soon formed his plans for the future, and laid them before the elders of the tribe the same evening after supper—at that period when poor Nazinred would have been enjoying his pipe, if that implement had not been blown with all his tobacco and tinder into the Arctic sky.