Without a moments hesitation, he took aim at her and fired. The poor girl uttered a loud shriek, threw up her arms, and fell to the ground. It chanced that Cheenbuk was within a hundred yards of the spot at the moment, but the bushes prevented his seeing what had occurred. The report, however, followed by the womans shriek, was a sufficient spur to him. Darting forward at full speed, he quickly cleared the underwood and came suddenly in view of a sight that caused every nerve in his body to tingleRinka prostrate on the ground with blood covering her face and hands, and the young Indian standing over her about to operate with the scalping-knife.
The howl of concentrated rage and horror uttered by Cheenbuk instantly checked the savage, and made him turn in self-defence. He had run to finish his horrible work, and secure the usual trophy of war without taking time to re-load his gun, and was thus almost unarmed. Grasping his powder-horn he attempted to rectify this errorwhich would never have been committed by an experienced warrior,but before he could accomplish half the operation, the well-aimed spear of Cheenbuk went whistling through the air, and entering his chest came out at his back. He fell dead almost without a groan.
Cheenbuk did not stop to finish the work by stabbing or scalping, but he kneeled beside the wounded girl and gently raised her.
Rinka, he said, softly, while he undid her jacket and sought for the wound, is it bad? Has he killed you?
I feel that I am dying. There is something here. She laid her hand upon her side, from a small wound in which blood was issuing freely.
The heart of the man was at once torn by tender pity and bitter indignation, when he thought of the gentle nature of the poor creature who had been thus laid low, and of the savage cruelty of the Indian who had done itfeelings which were not a little complicated by the reflection that the war-spiritthat is, the desire to kill for mere self-glorificationamong some of his own people had probably been the cause of it all.
It is useless. I am dying, gasped the girl, drawing her bloody hand across her forehead. But dont leave me to fall into the hands of these men. Take me home and let me die beside my mother.
She was yet speaking when old Uleeta and her companions came forward. Seeing that no other Indian appeared, and that the one who had shot Rinka was dead, they had quelled their alarm and come to see what had occurred. Cheenbuk, after stanching the flow of blood, availed himself of their aid to carry the wounded girl to the oomiak more comfortably than could have been possible if he had been obliged to carry her in his own strong arms.
With much care they placed her in the bottom of the boat, then the women got in, and Cheenbuk was about to follow, when the report of a gun was heard, and a bullet whizzed close past old Uleetas headso close, indeed, that it cut off some of her grey hair. But the old creature was by no means frightened.
Quick, jump in! she cried, beginning to push off with her paddle.
Cheenbuk was on the point of accepting the invitation, but a thought intervenedand thought is swifter than the lightning-flash. He knew from slight, but sufficient, experience that the spouters could send only one messenger of death at a time, and that before another could be spouted, some sort of manipulation which took time was needful. If the Indian should get the manipulation over before the oomiak was out of range, any of the women, as well as himself, might be killed.
No, he cried, giving the boat a mighty shove that sent it out to sea like an arrow, be off!paddle!for life! I will stop him!
Old Uleeta did not hesitate. She was accustomed to obedienceeven when there were no fire-spouters astern. She bent to her paddle with Arctic skill and vigour. So did her mates, and the oomiak darted from the shore while the Indian who had fired the shot was still agonising with his ramrodfor, happily, breech-loaders were as yet unknown.
Cheenbuk was quite alive to his danger. He rushed up the beach towards his foe with a roar and an expression of countenance that did not facilitate loading. Having left his spear in the body of the first Indian, he was unarmed, but that did not matter much to one who felt in his chest and arms the strength of Hercules and Samson rolled into one. So close was he to the Indian when the operation of priming was reached, that the man of the woods merely gave the stock of his gun a slap in the desperate hope that it would prime itself.
This hope, in the artillery used there at that time, was not often a vain hope. Indeed, after prolonged use, the trade gun of the Nor-west got into the habit of priming itselfowing to the enlarged nature of the touch-holealso of expending not a little of its force sidewise. The consequence was that the charge ignited when the trigger was pulled, and the echoes of the cliffs were once more awakened; but happily the Eskimo had closed in time. Grasping the barrel he turned the muzzle aside, and the ball that was meant for his heart went skipping out to sea, to the no small surprise of the women in the oomiak.
And now, for the second time since he had landed on those shores, was Cheenbuk engaged in the hated work of a hand-to-hand conflict with a foe!
But the conditions were very different, for Alizay was no match for the powerful Eskimoin physique at least, though doubtless he was not much, if at all, behind him in courage.
Cheenbuk felt this the moment they joined issue, and on the instant an irresistible sensation of mercy overwhelmed him. Holding the gun with his right hand, and keeping its muzzle well to one side, for he did not feel quite certain as to its spouting capacities, he grasped the Indians throat with his left. Quick as lightning Alizay, with his free hand, drew his scalping-knife and struck at the Eskimos shoulder, but not less quick was Cheenbuk in releasing the throat and catching the Indians wrist with a grip that rendered it powerless.
For a minute the Eskimo remained motionless, considering how best to render his adversary insensible without killing him.
That minute cost him dear. Five of Alizays comrades, led by Magadar, came upon the scene, and, as it happened, Cheenbuks back chanced to be towards them. They did not dare to fire, for fear of hitting their comrade, but they rushed unitedly forward with tomahawk and scalping-knife ready.
Take him alive, said Magadar.
Cheenbuk heard the voice. He disposed of poor Alizay by hurling him away as if he had been a child, and was in the act of facing round when Magadar threw his arms round his body and held him. To be seized thus from behind is to most men a serious difficulty, but our Eskimo made short work of his assailant. He bent forward with his head to the ground so violently that the Indian was flung completely over him, and fell flat on his back, in which position he remained motionless. But it was impossible for Cheenbuk to cope with the other four Indians, who flung themselves on him simultaneously, and seized him by arms, legs, and throat.
Of course they could have brained or stabbed him easily, but, remembering their chiefs order to take the man alive, they sought to quell him by sheer force. Stout and sinewy though the four braves were, they had their hands full during a good many minutes, for the Eskimos muscles were tougher and harder than india-rubber; his sinews resembled whip-cord, and his bones bars of iron. So completely was he overwhelmed by the men who held him down, that little or nothing of him could be seen, yet ever and anon, as he struggled, the four men seemed to be heaved upward by a small earthquake.
Alizay, who had risen, stood looking calmly on, but rendered no assistance, first, because there was no room for him to act, and second, because his left wrist had been almost broken by the violence of the throw that he had received. As for Magadar, he was only beginning to recover consciousness, and to wonder where he was!
Alizay, who had risen, stood looking calmly on, but rendered no assistance, first, because there was no room for him to act, and second, because his left wrist had been almost broken by the violence of the throw that he had received. As for Magadar, he was only beginning to recover consciousness, and to wonder where he was!
Suddenly Cheenbuk ceased to strive. He was a crafty Eskimo, and a thought had occurred to him. He would sham exhaustion, and, when his foes relaxed their grip, would burst away from them. He knew it was a forlorn hope, for he was well aware that, even if he should succeed in getting away, the spouters would send messengers to arrest him before he had run far. But Cheenbuk was just the man for a forlorn hope. He rose to difficulties and dangers as trouts to flies on a warm day. The Indians, however, were much too experienced warriors to be caught in that way. They eased off their grip with great caution. Moreover Magadar, having risen, and seeing how things were going, took off his belt and made a running noose of it. He passed the loop deftly round Cheenbuks legs and drew it tight, while the others were still trying vainly to compress his bull-neck.
The moment that Cheenbuk felt the noose tighten on his legs he knew that it was all over with him. To run or fight with his legs tied would be impossible, so, like a true philosopher, he submitted to the inevitable and gave in. His captors, however, did not deem it wise or safe to relax their hold until they had swathed his body with deerskin thongs; then they removed the belt from his legs and assisted him to rise.
It is not the custom of Indians to indulge in much conversation with vanquished foes. They usually confine their attentions to scowling, torturing, and ultimately to killing and scalping them. The Dogribs who had captured Cheenbuk could not speak the Eskimo tongue, and being unaware of his linguistic powers, did not think it possible to speak to him, but one of their number stood by him on guard while the others dug a grave and buried the Indian whom he had slain.
We have already made reference to our young Eskimos unusually advanced views in regard to several matters that do not oftenas far as we knowexercise the aboriginal mind. While he stood there watching the Indians, as they silently toiled at the grave, his thoughts ran somewhat in the following groove:
Poor man! Sorry I killed him, but if I had not he would have killed meand then, perhaps, some of the women, for they had not got far away, and I dont know how far the spouter can send its little arrows. I wonder if they are little. They must be surely, for Ive never seen one. Hoi! hoi! what fools men are to kill one another! How much better to let each other alone! I have killed him, poor man! and they will kill me. What then? The ice and snow will come and go all the same. No one will be the better for it when we are gone. Some will surely be the worse. Some wife or mother may have to rub her eyes for him. No one will care much for me. But the walrus and the seal-hunt will not be so big when I am gone. I wonder if the Maker of all cares for these things! He mustelse he would not have made us and put us here! Did he make us to fight each other? Surely not. Even I would not shape my spear to destroy my kayakand he must be wiser than me. Yet he never speaks or shows himself. If I had a little child, would I treat it so? NoI must be wrong, and he must be right. Speech is not always with the tongue. Now it comes to my mind that we speak with the eyes when we look fierce or pleased. Perhaps he whispers to me inside, sometimes, and I have not yet learned to understand him.
Cheenbuk had now dropped into one of his frequent reveries, or trains of thought, in which he was apt to forget all that was going on around him, and he did not waken from it until, the burial being concluded, one of the Indians touched him on the shoulder and pointed to Magadar, who had shouldered his gun and was entering the bushes.
Understanding this to be a command to follow, he stepped out at once. The others fell into line behind him, and thus, bound and a captive, our Eskimo turned his back finallyas he believedon what we may style his native homethe great, mysterious northern sea.
Chapter Seven.
Flight and Misfortune
While the scene we have described was being enacted, the other Indians, who had crossed the neck of land for the purpose of cutting off the men in the kayaks, failed in the attempt, partly owing to the distance being greater than their memories had assigned to it, and partly to the great speed of the kayaks when propelled by strong men fleeing for their lives.
All the kayaks were well out of gunshot range when the shore was reached, except one which lagged behind. At this one the Indians discharged several volleys, but without effect, and soon after, it also was beyond range.
The little vessel which thus lagged behind belonged to the unfortunate Gartok, whose leg, it will be remembered, was wounded by one of the balls discharged by Alizay. Despite his energy, and desperate though the situation was, Gartok could not overcome the depressing influence of pain and haemorrhage. He fell gradually behind the others, each of whom was too anxious about his own safety to think much of his comrades.
When the firing ceased and the flotilla was well out of range, Gartok laid down his paddle and bound up his wounded limb with some scraps of seal-skin; at the same time, hailing the kayak nearest to him. As soon as it was discovered that their chief was wounded, all the Eskimos came clustering round him. Among them was his lieutenant Ondikik.
You also are wounded, said Gartok, observing the pallor of his face.
Yes; I can find no arrow, but there is blood.
Is it bad? asked the chief, with an angry exclamation at their misfortune.
I cannot tell, replied Ondikik, but
He finished the sentence in the most expressive manner by fainting dead away, and falling over to one side so heavily that he would have infallibly upset the little craft if his comrades had not been close at hand to prevent that catastrophe.
Hail the oomiak! cried Gartok, in a voice that, for him, felt singularly feeble. Put him into it, and let two of the women change with two of the men.
In a few minutes the womens large open boat was alongside, and poor Ondikik was, with some difficulty, transferred to it. Two men then gave up their kayaks to two of the women, and took their places in the oomiak. While this was being done some of the people gave a shout of alarm, for it was observed that Gartok himself had quietly fallen back in a state of insensibility.
The men, therefore, lifted him also out of his kayak and laid him beside his lieutenant.
This accomplished, the little fleet paddled out to sea, and they soon lost sight of the Arctic shore. They did not again pause until they reached a group of small islets, on one of which they encamped for the night.
Fortunately the weather at this time was calm and warm, so that those hardy inhabitants of the icy north required no better lodging or bed than the cold ground, with the star-spangled sky for curtains. With lamps flaring, seal-steaks and wild-fowl simmering, and hot oil flowing, they quickly made themselves comfortablewith the exception, of course, of the warlike Gartok and the hot-headed Ondikik. These two, being fellow-sufferers, were laid beside each other, in order, perhaps, to facilitate mutual condolence. To do them justice, they did not grumble much at their fate, but entertained each other with a running commentary on the events of the day.
And that is strange news that my old mother tells me, resumed Gartok, after a short pause in the conversation. Cheenbuk must have given the Fire-spouters sore heads from the way he gripped them.