Munroe Kirk
Under the Great Bear
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE COMFORT OF AN ESKIMO LAMP
In that dreary waste of snow, unrelieved so far as the eye could reach by so much as a single bush, the making of a camp that should contain even the rudiments of comfort seemed as hopeless to White, who had always been accustomed to a timbered country, as it did to Cabot, who knew nothing of real camp life, and had only played at camping in the Adirondacks. Left to their own devices, they would have passed a most uncomfortable if not a perilous night, for the mercury stood at many degrees below zero. But they had Yim with them, and he, being perfectly at home amid all that desolation, was determined to enjoy all the home comforts it could be made to yield.
First he marked out a circular space some twelve feet in diameter, from which he bade his companions excavate the snow with their snowshoes, and throw it out on the windward side. While they were doing this he went a short distance away, and, from a mass of closely compacted snow, carved out with his knife a number of blocks, as large as could be handled without breaking, to each of which he gave a slight curve. With time enough Yim could have constructed from such slabs a perfect igloo or snow hut, but the fading daylight was very precious, and he did not consider that the cold was yet sufficiently severe to demand a complete enclosure. So he merely built a low, hood-like structure on the windward side of the space the others had cleared. One side of this was still further extended by the sledge, relieved of its load and set on edge.
The precious provisions were placed inside the rude shelter, the sleeping bags covered its floor, and, when all was completed, Yim surveyed his work with great satisfaction.
"It is pretty good so far as it goes," admitted. White, dubiously, "but I don't see how we are to get along without at least enough fire to boil a pot of tea, and of course we can't have a fire without wood."
"That's so," agreed Cabot, shivering.
Yim only smiled knowingly as he groped among the miscellaneous articles piled at the back of the hut. From them he finally drew forth a shallow soapstone bowl having one straight side about six inches long. It was shaped something like a clam shell, and was a specimen of the world-famed Eskimo cooking lamp. He also produced a bladder full of seal oil.
"Good enough!" cried Cabot. "Yim has remembered to bring along his travelling cook stove."
Setting the lamp in the most sheltered corner of the hut, Yim filled it with oil, and then, drawing forth a pouch that hung from his neck, he produced a wick made of sphagnum moss previously dried, rolled, and oiled. This he laid carefully along the straight side of the lamp. Then, turning to Cabot, he uttered the single word: "Metches."
"Great Scott!" exclaimed the young engineer, "I forgot to bring any. But of course you must have some, White."
"No, I haven't. Matches were among the things you were to look after, and so I never gave them a thought."
The spirits of the lads, raised to a high pitch of expectation by the sight of Yim's lamp, suddenly sank to zero with the discovery that they had no means for lighting it. Yim, however, only smiled at their dismay. Of course he had long since learned the use of matches, and to appreciate them at their full value; but he also knew how to produce fire without their aid in the simplest manner ever devised by primitive man. It is the friction method of rubbing wood against wood, and, in one form or another, is used all over the world. It was known to the most ancient Egyptians, and is practised to-day by natives of the Amazon valley, dwellers on South Pacific islands, inhabitants of Polar regions, Indians of North America, and the negroes of Central Africa. These widely scattered peoples use various models of wooden drills, ploughs, or saws. But Yim's method is the simplest of all. When he saw that no matches were forthcoming, he said:
"A' yite. Me fix um." At the same time he produced two pieces of soft wood from some hiding place in his garments. One of these, known as the "spindle," was a stick about two feet long by three-quarters of an inch in diameter and having a rounded point. The other, called the "hearth," was flat, about eighteen inches in length, half an inch thick, and three inches wide. On its upper surface, close to one edge, were several slight cavities, each just large enough to hold the rounded end of the spindle, and from each was cut a narrow slot down the side of the hearth. This slot is an indispensable feature, and without it all efforts to produce fire by wood-friction must fail.
Laying the hearth on the flat side of a sledge runner and kneeling on it to hold it firmly in position, Yim set the rounded end of his spindle in one of its depressions, and holding the upper end between the palms of his hands, began to twirl it rapidly, at the same time exerting all possible downward pressure. As his hands moved towards the lower end of the spindle he dexterously shifted them back to the top, without lifting it or allowing air to get under its lower end.
With the continuation of the twirling process a tiny stream of wood meal, ground off by friction, poured through the slot at the side of the hearth, and accumulated in a little pile, that all at once began to smoke. In two seconds more it was a glowing coal of fire. Then Yim dropped his spindle, covered the coal with a bit of tinder previously made ready, and blew it into a flame, which he deftly transferred to the wick of his lamp.
At sight of the first spiral of smoke our lads had been filled with amazement. As the coal began to glow they uttered exclamations of delight, and when the actual flame appeared they broke into such enthusiastic cheering as set all the dogs to barking in sympathy.
"It is one of the most wonderful things I ever saw," cried Cabot. "I've often read of fire being produced by wood friction, and I have tried it lots of times myself, but as I never could raise even a smoke, and never before met any one who could, I decided that it was all a fake got up by story writers."
"I was rather doubtful about it myself," admitted White. "But, I say! Isn't that a great lamp, and doesn't it make things look cheery?"
White's approval of "Yim's cook stove," as Cabot called it, was well merited, for its five inches of blazing wick yielded as much light and twice the heat of a first-class kerosene lamp. Over it Yim had already suspended a kettle full of snow, and now he laid a slab of frozen pork close beside it to be thawed out.
While waiting for these he fed the dogs, who had been watching him with wistful eyes and impatient yelpings. To each he threw a two-pound chunk of frozen walrus meat, and each devoured his portion with such ravenous rapidity that Cabot declared they swallowed them whole.
Half an hour after the lamp was lighted it had converted enough snow into boiling water to provide three steaming cups of tea, and while our lads sipped at these Yim cut slices of thawed pork, laid them in the fry-pan, and holding this over his lamp soon had them sizzling and browning in the most appetising manner. This, with tea and ship biscuit, constituted their supper.
When Yim no longer needed his lamp for cooking he removed two-thirds of its wick and allowed the flame thus reduced to burn all night. Over it hung a kettle of melting snow, and above this, on a snowshoe, supported by two others, wet mittens and moccasins were slowly but thoroughly dried.
In spite of the hot tea, their fur-lined sleeping bags, and the effective wind-break behind which they were huddled, our lads suffered with cold long before the night was over, and were quite willing to make a start when Yim, after a glance at the stars, announced that daylight was only three hours away. For breakfast they had more scalding tea and a quantity of hard bread, broken into small bits, soaked in warm water, fried in seal oil, and eaten with sugar. White pronounced this fine, but Cabot only ate it under protest, because, as he said, he must fill up with something.
The travel of that day, with its accompaniments of blisters and strained muscles, was much harder than that of the day before, and our weary lads were thankful when, towards its close, they entered a belt of timber that had been in sight for hours.
That night they slept warmly and soundly on luxurious beds of spruce boughs beside a great fire frequently replenished by Yim.
"I tell you what," said Cabot, as, early in the evening, he basked in the heat of this blaze, "there's nothing in all this world so good as that. For my part I consider fire to be the greatest blessing ever conferred upon mankind."
"How about light, air, water, food, and sleep?" asked White.
"Those are necessaries, but fire is a luxury. Not only that, but it is the first of all luxuries and the one upon which nearly all others depend."
When, a little later, Cabot lay so close to the blaze that his sleeping bag caught on fire, and he burned his hands in putting it out, White laughingly asked:
"What do you think of your luxury now?"
"I think," was the reply, "that it proves itself the greatest of luxuries by punishing over-indulgence in it with the greatest amount of pain."
"Umph!" remarked Yim, who was listening, "Big fire, goot. Baby fire, more goot. Innuit yamp mos' goot of any."
"Oh, pshaw!" retorted Cabot, "your sooty little lamp isn't in it with a blaze like that."
On the third day of their journey the party had skirted the edge of the timber for several hours, when all at once Yim held his head high with dilated nostrils. At the same time it was noticed that the dogs were also sniffing eagerly.
"What is it, Yim?"
"Fire. Injin fire," was the reply.
"I'd like to know how you can tell an Indian fire from any other," said Cabot. "Especially when it is so far away that I can't smell anything but cold air."
But Yim was right, for, after a while, his companions also smelled smoke, and a little later the yelping of their dogs was answered by shrill cries from within the timber. Suddenly two tattered scarecrows of children emerged from the thick growth, stared for an instant, and then, with terrified expressions, darted back like frightened rabbits.
"The Arsenic kids!" cried Cabot, who had recognised them. "Now I'll catch that scoundrel." As he spoke he sprang after the children, and was instantly lost to view in the low timber.
"Hold on!" shouted White. "You'll run into an ambush."
But Cabot, crashing through the undergrowth, failed to hear the warning, and with the loyalty of true friendship White started after him. A minute later he overtook his impulsive comrade standing still and gazing irresolute at a canvas tent, black with age and smoke, and patched in many places. It stood on the edge of a small lake, and showed no sign of occupancy save a slender curl of smoke that drifted from a vent hole in its apex.
"Get behind cover," cried White. "They may take a pot shot at any moment."
"I don't believe it," replied Cabot. "Any way, I'm bound to see what's inside."
Thus saying he stepped forward and lifted the dingy flap.
CHAPTER XXIV.
OBJECTS OF CHARITY
While Cabot felt very bitter against the young Indian whom he had named "Arsenic," on account of the base ingratitude with which the latter had repaid the kindness shown him, and was determined to punish him for it in some way, he had not the slightest idea what form the punishment would take. Of course he did not intend to kill Arsenic, nor even to severely injure him, but he had thought of giving the rascal a sound thrashing, and only hoped he could make him understand what it was for. In the excitement of the past two weeks he had forgotten all about Arsenic, but the sight of those ragged children had awakened his animosity, and he had followed them, hoping that they would lead him to the object of his just wrath. It was only when he reached the sorry-looking tent that he remembered the other savages whom Arsenic had brought with him on his second visit to the schooner, and wondered if some of them might not be concealed behind the canvas screen ready to spring upon him.
With this thought he stepped nimbly to one side as he threw open the flap, and stood for a moment waiting for what might happen. There was no rush of men and no sound, save only a faint cry of terror, hearing which Cabot peered cautiously around the edge of the opening.
A poor little fire of sticks smouldered on the ground in the middle, filling the place with a pungent smoke. Through this Cabot could at first make out only a confused huddle at one side, from which several pairs of eyes glared at him like those of wild beasts. As he entered the tent a human figure detached itself from this and strove to rise, but fell back weakly helpless. In another moment a closer view disclosed to Cabot the whole dreadful situation. The huddle resolved itself into a woman, hollow-cheeked and gaunt with sickness and hunger, two children in slightly better plight, and a little dead baby. There was no other person in the tent, and it contained no furnishing except the heap of boughs, rags, and scraps of fur that passed for a bed, and a broken kettle that lay beside the fire. On the floor were scattered a few bones picked clean, from which even the marrow had been extracted; but otherwise there was no vestige of food.
"I believe they are starving to death!" cried Cabot, as he made these discoveries.
"It certainly looks like it," replied White, who had followed his friend into the tent. "I wonder what they did with all the provisions they stole from us."
"Probably they were taken from them in turn to feed those other Indians. At any rate, they are destitute enough now, and we can't leave them here to die. Go and bring Yim with the sled as quick as you can, while I wake up this fire."
"All right," replied White, "only I'm afraid he won't come."
"He must come," said Cabot decisively.
The hatred between Eskimo and Indian is so bitter that it took all White's powers of persuasion, together with certain threats, to bring Yim to the tent, but once there even he was sufficiently roused by its spectacle of suffering to bestir himself most actively.
During the next hour, while the starving, half-frozen Indians were warmed and fed, the rescuers discussed the situation and what should be done. They could not leave the helpless family as they had found them, neither could they carry them away, and it would be folly to remain with them longer than was absolutely necessary. They could not gain a word of information from the woman or children as to how they had arrived at such a pitiable plight, what they had done with the stolen provisions, why their friends had abandoned them, or what had become of Arsenic.
"I'll tell you what," said Cabot at length; "we'll provide them with a supply of wood and leave all the provisions we can possibly spare. Then we will hurry on to Indian Harbour, send back some more provisions from there by Yim, and get him to report the case to Mr. Mellins."
As there seemed nothing better to be done, this plan was carried out, though dividing the provisions made each portion look woefully small, and by noon the sledge was again on its way southward.
The head of the fiord having been reached, the trail now left the sheltering timber and struck across an open country, which was also extremely rugged, abounding in hills and hollows. Over these the sledge pulled heavily, in spite of its lightened load, because one of the ice shoes, with which its runners were shod, had broken and could not be repaired until camp was made.
When they had gone about three miles, and while our lads were still talking of the suffering they had so recently witnessed, they were attracted by an exclamation from Yim, who was pointing eagerly ahead. Looking in that direction, they saw a line of dark objects, that had just topped a distant ridge, running swiftly towards them.
"Caribou!" shouted White, in great excitement, at the same time seizing his rifle from the sledge and hastily removing it from its sealskin case. In another minute sledge and dogs were concealed in a bit of a gully, with Cabot to watch them, while Yim and White, lying flat behind the crest of a low ridge, were eagerly noting the course of the approaching animals. When it became evident that they would pass at some distance on the right, White, crouching low, ran in that direction.
The caribou appeared badly frightened, pausing every few moments to face about and cast terrified glances over the way they had come. All at once, during one of these pauses, a shot rang out, followed quickly by another, and, as the terrified animals dashed madly away in a new direction, one of their number dropped behind, staggered, and fell.
"I've got him! I've got him!" yelled White, wild with the joy of his achievement.
"Hurrah for us!" shouted Cabot. "Steaks and spare-ribs for supper to-night."
"Yip, yip, yip!" screamed Yim to his dogs, and with a jubilant chorus of yells and yelpings, the entire outfit streamed over the ridge to the place where the unfortunate caribou lay motionless.
In his broken English Yim gave the lads to understand that it would be advisable to camp where they were, in order to prepare their meat for transportation, and also to mend their broken sledge shoe. This latter, he explained, could be done much better with a mixture of blood and snow than with any other available material. He furthermore intimated that he feared they might be overtaken by a blizzard before morning, in which case they could best defy it in a regularly built igloo.
All these reasons for delay seemed so good that the others accepted them, and the work outlined by Yim was immediately begun. In cutting up the caribou, as in building the snow hut, Cabot, from lack of experience, could give but slight assistance, and, realising this, he made a proposal.
"Look here," he said. "The wood we have brought along won't last long and I want a good fire to-night. I also want to carry some of this meat to those poor wretches we have just left. We have got more than we can take with us, anyhow. So I am going back with a leg of venison, and on my return I'll bring all the wood I can pack."
"But you might lose the way," objected White.
"No one could lose so plain a trail as the one we have just made," replied Cabot, scornfully.
"Suppose it should be dark before you got back?"
"There will be three hours of daylight yet, and I won't be gone more than two at the most. Anyhow, I must get some of this meat to those starving children."
White's protests were ineffectual before Cabot's strong resolve, and, as soon as a forequarter of the caribou could be made ready, the latter get forth on his errand of mercy. Although he had no difficulty in finding the trail, it was so much harder to walk with a heavy load than it had been without one that a full hour had passed before he again came within sight of the lonely tent in the forest.
One of the children who was outside spied him and announced his coming, so that when he entered the tent he again found a frightened group huddled together and apprehensively awaiting him. But they were stronger now, and the children uttered little squeals of joy at sight of the meat he had brought, while even the haggard face of their mother was lighted by a fleeting smile.
For the pleasure of seeing the children eat Cabot toasted a few strips of venison over the coals, and these smelled so good that he cut off some more for himself. In this occupation he spent another hour without realising the flight of time, and had eaten a quantity of meat that he would have deemed impossible had it all been placed before him at once.
As he was bending over the fire toasting a strip that he said to himself should be the last, a slight cry from one of the children caused him to look up. He barely caught a glimpse of a face at the entrance as it was hastily withdrawn, but in that moment he recognised the features of Arsenic. At sight of the ill-favoured young Indian all of Cabot's former resentment flamed up, and springing to his feet he dashed from the tent, determined to give Arsenic the thrashing he deserved.
Of course Cabot had removed his snowshoes, but, as the young Indian had done the same thing, both were compelled to readjust these all-important articles, without which they would have floundered helplessly in the deep snow.
Arsenic was off first, and though Cabot chased him hotly he could not overcome the advantage thus gained. Being also much less expert in the management of snowshoes, he tripped several times, and finally pitched headlong. When he next regained his feet Arsenic had disappeared in the timber, and our lad realised the futility of a further pursuit. Now, too, he noticed that the sky had become heavily overcast, and that a strong wind was soughing ominously through the tree tops.
"It must be later than I thought," he reflected, "and high time for me to be getting back to camp." With this he hastily gathered a bundle of sticks to be used as firewood and started, as he supposed, towards the open; but so confused was he, and so many turns did he make, that more than half an hour was wasted before he finally emerged from the timber. Here he was dismayed to find that snow was falling, or rather being driven in straight lines by the wind, which had increased to the force of a gale.
"I've got to hump myself to reach camp before dark, but I'll make it all right," he remarked to himself, as he set forth across the white plain.
He took a diagonal course that he hoped would lead him to the trail, but by the time all landmarks were obliterated by the descending night he had failed to find it. In looking back he could not even distinguish the timber line from which he had come. Then the awful conviction slowly forced itself upon him that he was lost in a trackless wilderness, swept by the first fury of an Arctic blizzard.
