The Walrus Hunters: A Romance of the Realms of Ice by R. M. Ballantyne (books to read now .TXT) 📕

was received with shouts of laughter and great applause, while Raventik sprang to his feet. Instead of taking it in good part, however, the reckless man allowed his temper to get the better of him, and made a rush at Oolalik, who, being naturally peaceful in temperament, dodged his adversary, and, with a laugh, ran away from him; but the other was not to be baulked in this way. A fight he was bent on, so he gave chase at the top of his speed. The man of peace, however, was too fleet for him. He kept just out of his reach, thereby stimulating his rage and inducing many a “spurt” which proved abortive. At last, being desirous of putting an end to the chase—or himself losing patience, who knows?—Oolalik suddenly dropped on his hands and knees, and Raventik, plunging headlong over him, fell flat on his breast and went scooting over the ice for about ten or fifteen yards before he could stop himself. What would have happened after that no one can tell, for just then the attention of the whole party was diverted by a shout in the distance, accompanied by the cracking of a whip and the usual sounds that announced an arrival.

A few seconds later and Cheenbuk drove his team into the village.

He had warned Anteek to say nothing about the finding of the Indian, and the boy had been faithful to his trust, so that the whole population was thrown into a state of wide-eyed amazement, not to mention excitement, when the tall form of the Fire-spouter was seen to rise from the sledge and turn his grave countenance upon them with the calm dignity characteristic of his race. The dogs of the village showed not only surprise, but also their teeth, on observing Attim among the newcomers, and they made for him, but a well-directed and sweeping cut from the whip of the watchful Anteek scattered them right and left, and rebuked their inhospitality.

Thereafter Cheenbuk began to tell how he had discovered the Indian on the ice, and introduced the subject with some prolixity, like not a few white men when they have a good story to tell. Moreover, the wily man had an eye to dramatic effect, and, observing that Adolay was not among the women, he made up his mind to what is called “prolong the agony” as far as possible.

Unfortunately for his purpose, there happened to be blowing at the time a gentle nor’-west breeze, which, in its direct course towards them, had to pass over the igloe that belonged to Mangivik, and the humble-minded Attim, keen of scent, recognised something there that caused him suddenly to cock his ears and tail, open his eyes, and give vent to a sharp interrogative yelp!

Next moment he charged through the canine throng—scattering them in abject terror—dashed into the tunnel of Mangivik’s dwelling, and disappeared from view. Another moment and there issued from the igloe—not a scream: Indian girls seldom or never scream—but a female ebullition of some sort, which was immediately followed by the sudden appearance of Adolay, with the dog waltzing around her, wriggling his tail as if he wished to shake off that member, and otherwise behaving himself like a quadrupedal lunatic.

Eager inquiry was intensified in every line of her expressive face, and, withal, a half-scared look, as if she expected to see a ghost. If she had really seen one the effect could scarcely have been more impressive when her eyes encountered those of her father. She stood for a few moments gazing, and utterly unable to move, then, with a wild cry of joy, she bounded towards him. In like manner the Indian stood at first as if thunderstruck, for Cheenbuk’s information had not led him to expect this. Then his wonted dignity utterly forsook him; for the first time in his life, perhaps, he expressed his feelings of affection with a shout, and, meeting the girl half-way, enfolded her in an embrace that lifted her completely off her legs.

The Eskimos, as may well be imagined, were not only surprised but profoundly interested in the scene, and Cheenbuk was constrained to draw his narrative to an abrupt conclusion by informing them hurriedly that the Fire-spouter was the father of Adolay; that he had left home alone and on foot to search for her; that he was also the very man with whom, on the banks of the Whale River, he had fought and fraternised, and that therefore it behoved them to receive him hospitably as his particular friend.

Cheenbuk spoke the concluding sentence with a look and tone that was meant to convey a warning to any one who should dare to feel or act otherwise; but there was little need of the warning, for, with the exception of Aglootook the medicine-man, the chief leaders of the fire-eating portion of the tribe, Gartok and Ondikik, were at the time helpless.

While this irrepressible display of Dogrib affection was enacting, Attim was performing a special war-dance, or rather love-dance, of his own round the re-united pair. He was an unusually wise dog, and seemed to know that he could expect no attention just then; he therefore contented himself with a variety of hind-legged pirouettes, and a little half-suppressed yelping, knowing that his turn would surely come in time.

Meanwhile an incident occurred which seemed further to enhance the dramatic character of the meeting. There burst suddenly and without warning upon the amazed and horrified multitude a miniature thunder-clap, which, being absolutely new to their experience, shook them to their spinal marrow. Several boys of unusually inquisitive disposition, taking advantage of the pre-occupation of the tribe, ventured to poke about the sledge which had just arrived, and discovered the fire-spouter of the Indian. With awe-stricken countenances they proceeded to examine it. Of course, when they came to the trigger it went off. So did the boys—excepting the one who had touched the trigger. He, having the butt against his chest at the moment, received a lesson which he never forgot, and was laid flat on his back—as much with fright as violence. Fortunately there was nothing in front of the gun at the time save the tip of a dog’s tail. Into this one lead-drop entered. It was enough! The owner of the tail sprang into space, howling. Every one else, including dogs and bairns, with the exception of Mrs Mangivik—who, being as it were petrified with consternation, remained absolutely immovable—fled for shelter behind the igloes, leaving Nazinred, Adolay, Cheenbuk and Anteek in possession of the field.

By degrees their fears were calmed, and according to their courage the rest of the population returned to the scene of the explosion, some half ashamed of having run away, others more than half ready to run again.

“Do they sometimes do like that by themselves?” asked Cheenbuk, referring to the gun.

“Never,” said the Indian. “Some one must have touched it.”

“The boys,” remarked Anteek; “I know them!”

Adolay laughed. “Yes,” she said, “I know them too, and they meddle with everything.”

“Come, man-of-the-woods,” said Cheenbuk, “and see my father’s igloe. He is hiding inside of it since the spouter made its noise. This is my sister, Nootka, and that,” he added, pointing to Mrs Mangivik, who was gradually becoming untransfixed, “is my mother.”

“Have you told my father all, Cheenbuk?” asked Adolay as they went towards the hut.

The Indian stopped abruptly and looked with a piercing glance at the Eskimo.

“Cheenbuk!” he exclaimed, in a low voice.

“Yes, that is my name,” said the young man, with a smile, and yet with a something in his face which implied that he was not ashamed to own it.

For a moment the Indian frowned as if he were displeased, at the same time drawing his daughter close to him. The prejudices of race were at work within him then, and that very human weakness which shows itself in esteeming all nations inferior to one’s own strove with his better feelings; but as he looked on the handsome face and brave bearing of the young man-of-the-ice, and remembered his sentiments and sympathy, he suddenly stepped up to him and held out his hand.

“The white trader has taught me,” he said, “that the difference in men is only skin-deep. The same Manitou made us all. Cheenbuk, my son, I am grateful to you for your care of my child.”

“My father,” said the Eskimo, returning his grasp, “your mind is in a good state. So is mine! You must be tired and hungry. Let us go and feed.”