For hours the fog showed no signs of lifting. The three remained seated near the carcass of the polar bear, discussing the one question that had already been discussed so long, until there really seemed nothing left to say.
Not long after the collision between the icebergs a singular thing took place. It was evident that the two were acted upon each by a diverse current, but the preponderating bulk of the greater was not disturbed by the smaller. The latter, however, as if anxious to break away from its master, began slowly grinding along the face, until, after awhile, it swung clear and gradually drifted out of sight in the misty vapor.
"She will know better than to tackle one bigger than herself," was the remark of Rob Carrol, "which reminds me that if there should happen to be a bigger iceberg than this floating around loose we sha'n't be in any danger."
"And why not?"
"Because being so big it will be under the influence of the same current as this and going in the same direction, so there won't be much chance of our coming together."
"Unless the big one should overtake us," suggested Fred.
"Even then it would find it hard to run over us, so there isn't much to be feared from that; what I do dread is that we shall strike some shallow place in the sea that will make this thing turn a somersault."
"It would be a terrible thing," said Fred, unable to drive it from his thoughts.
"Is it possible for the berg to strike something like that and stick fast, without shifting its centre of gravity?"
The question was addressed to Jack Cosgrove, but he did not attempt to answer until the last clause was explained to him.
"Oh! yes; that has been seen many times. A berg will ground itself just like a boat, and stay for days and weeks until a storm breaks it up, or it shakes itself loose. I don't believe if we do strike bottom again that there's much danger of capsizing."
"Why didn't you tell us that before?" asked Rob, reprovingly; "we might have been saved all this worry."
"It's only guesswork, any way, so you may as well keep on worrying, for, somehow or other, you seem to enjoy it."
"I think there is a thinning of the fog," remarked Fred, some time later.
"A little, but not much; it's growing colder, too; we'll run into keen weather afore reaching the Pole."
"I shouldn't wonder if it came pretty soon. Hello!" added Rob, looking at his watch; "it is past noon."
"Do you want your dinner?" asked Jack, with a grin.
Both lads gave an expression of disgust, the elder replying:
"I can stand it for twenty-four hours before hankering for another slice of bear steak, and I shouldn't be surprised if Fred feels the same way."
"You are correct, my friend."
"Ah, you chaps can get used to anything!" was the self-complacent remark of the sailor, as he assumed a comfortable attitude on the ice.
While the boys talked thus, Jack was carefully noting the weather. He saw with pleasure that the fog was steadily clearing, and that, before night, the atmosphere was likely to be wholly clear again. That fact might avail them nothing, but it was a thousand-fold better than the mist, in which they might drift within a hundred feet of friends without either party suspecting it.
From what has been told, it will be understood that no one of the three built any hope of a rescue by the "Nautilus." The violent gale had driven her miles away, and a search on her part for this particular iceberg would be like the hunt of one exploring party for another that had been lost years before.
But it was not to be supposed that Captain McAlpine would quietly dismiss all care concerning the lads from his mind. One of them was a son of a leading director of the Hudson Bay Company, and the other was a favorite of the son and his father. For the skipper to return to London at the end of several months with the report that he had left them on an iceberg in the Greenland Sea would be likely to subject him to unpleasant consequences.
The most natural course of the captain, as it seemed to the sailor, after making the best search he could, was to put into some of the towns along the coast, and organize several parties to go out in search of them.
"He is no fool," thought Jack, as he turned the subject over in his mind without speaking, "and he must have took the bearings of the ship and the berg as I did. He won't be able to keep track of us, but he will know better than to sail exactly in the wrong direction, as most other folks would do. Yes," he remarked to his friends, as he looked off over the sea, "the weather is clearing and the fog will be all gone before night."
This was gratifying information, though neither youth could tell precisely why it should give them special ground for hope.
You will understand one of the trials of the boys when adrift on the iceberg. The latter was moving slowly, and, though in a direction different from the surface current, yet it was barely perceptible. No other objects were in sight than the berg itself, which gave the impression to the passengers that it was motionless on the vasty deep. You know how much harder it is to wait in a train at a station than it is in one in motion. If they could have realized that the berg was actually moving, no matter in what direction, the relief would have been great. As it was, they felt as though they were simply waiting, waiting for they knew not what.
The afternoon was more than two-thirds gone when the last vestige of the fog vanished. The sun shone out, and, looking off to sea, the power of the eye itself was the only limit to the vision.
Without explaining the meaning of his action, Jack Cosgrove made his way down the path to the place where they had spent most of the preceding night, and climbing upon a slight elevation, stood for a full minute looking fixedly off over the sea. He shaded his eyes carefully with his hand, and stood as motionless as a stone statue.
"He either sees or expects to see something," said Rob, who, like his companion, was watching him with much interest.
"He is so accustomed to the ocean that his eyes are better than ours," said Fred.
"I can't make out anything."
Suddenly Jack struck his thigh with his right hand and wheeled about, showing a face aglow with feeling.
"By the great horned spoon, I knowed it."
"What have you discovered, Jack?"
"You chaps just come this way," he said, crooking his stubby forefinger toward them, "and put yourself alongside of me and take the sharpest squint you can right over yonder."
Doing as directed, they finally agreed, after some hard looking, that they saw what seemed to be a long, low, white cloud in the horizon.
"That's Greenland," was the astonishing reply; "I don't know what part, but it's solid airth with snow on it."
This was interesting, indeed, though it was still difficult to understand what special hope the fact held out to them.
It seemed to grow slightly more distinct as the afternoon advanced. Since it was hardly to be supposed that the iceberg was approaching land, this was undoubtedly caused by the contour of the coast.
When night began closing in the party fired their guns repeatedly, thinking possibly the reports might attract notice from some of the natives fishing in the vicinity. The chance, however, was so exceedingly slight that they made preparations for spending the night as before—that is, huddled together against the projecting ice. There was hardly a breath of air stirring, though the temperature continued falling.
"I hear it!" exclaimed Fred, starting to his feet, within five minutes after seating themselves as described.
"What's that?" asked the amazed Rob; "are you crazy?"
"Listen!"
They did so. There was no mistake about it. They caught the sound of a vigorously moved paddle, and, had any doubt remained, it was dissipated by the loud call in a peculiar voice, and with an odd accent:
"Holloa! holloa! holloa!"
The boys could hardly credit their senses. Just as they had settled themselves to spend another long, dismal night on the iceberg, the sound of a paddle broke upon their ears, followed, the next moment, by a hail in unmistakable English.
"It's Captain McAlpine or one of the men!" exclaimed Rob, breaking into such a headlong rush down the incline that it threatened to precipitate him into the sea before he could check himself.
Fred was at his heels, and Jack tumbled against him. He knew that that voice was no Caucasian's. Despite the English word, he recognized it as belonging to a native Esquimau.
"We're coming!" called back Jack, in turn; "just hold on a few minutes and we'll be there—by the great horned spoon!"
He bumped flat on his back, and shot down the incline so fast that he knocked the heels from under Fred, and the two, impinging against Rob, prostrated him also, the three shooting forward like so many sleighs going down a toboggan slide.
"Never mind, lads; we'll stop when we strike water," called the sailor, so pleased that he recked little of the consequences. All the same, however, each exerted himself desperately to stop, and, barely succeeded in doing so, on the very edge of the incline.
Then they perceived one of the long, narrow native boats, known as a kayak, drawn up alongside the wharf, as it may be called, with the Esquimau in the act of stepping out.
He contemplated the sight in silent wonderment, for, it is safe to say, he had never been approached in that fashion before.
Jack was the first to recover the perpendicular, and he impulsively reached out his mittened hand to the native, who was clad in furs, with a short jacket and a hood, which covered all his head, excepting the front of his face.
"How do you do, my hearty? I never was so glad to see any one in my life as I am to see you."
"Glad to meet you," replied the Esquimau, somewhat abashed by the effusive greeting; "where you come from?"
"From the iceberg," and then reflecting that this good friend was entitled to a full explanation, the sailor added:
"We visited this berg, yesterday, from the ship "Nautilus;" our boat was carried away before we knew it, and the gale drove the ship so far out of her course that we haven't seen a thing of her since. How came you to know we were here?"
"Heard gun go off—didn't know where it be—hear it again—then know it here—then come to you."
"Were you ashore?"
"Started out to fish—you go ashore with me?"
"You can just bet we will; your kayak is strong enough to take us all, isn't it?"
"If sit still—make no jump," was the reply of the native, who was plainly pleased at the part of the good Samaritan he was playing.
"These are my friends, Rob Carrol and Fred Warburton," said Jack, introducing the lads, each of whom shook the hand of the native, whom they felt like embracing in a transport of pleasure.
Since the native had come out for the purpose of taking them off, there was no delay in embarking. The long boat, which the Esquimau handled with such skill, was taxed to carry the unusual load, and Jack suggested that he should wait till the boys were taken ashore, when the native could return for him, but their friend said that was unnecessary, and, inasmuch as the land was fully three miles distant, the task would have been a severe one. The sea was not ugly, and the Esquimau assured them there would be no trouble in landing them safely, if they "dressed" carefully and guarded against any sudden shifting of position.
All understood the situation too well to make any mistake in this respect, and, in a few minutes, everything was in readiness. The native sat in the middle of the boat and swayed his long paddle with a dexterity that aroused the admiration of his passengers. It was not the kind of paddling to which Jack Cosgrove was accustomed, though he could have picked it up with readiness, and he was just the one to appreciate work of that kind.
Rob was nearest the prow, and, as the craft whirled about and headed toward land, he caught a shower of spray which was dashed over his clothing and in his face. That, however, meant nothing, and he gave no heed to it. Immediately the craft was skimming over the waves at a speed of fully five knots.
The occasion was hardly one for conversation, and Rob cautiously moved sideways and turned his head, so as to watch the advance. The weather, as will be remembered, was perfectly clear; the stars were shining and he could see for a considerable way over the water.
It was trying to the nerves of so brave a lad as he to observe a huge wave rushing like a courser straight toward them and looking as if nothing could save the boat from swamping; but, under the consummate handling of its owner, it arose to meet the wall of water and rode it easily. Then, as it plunged into the trough on the other side, it seemed as if about to dive into the depths of the sea, but immediately arose again with inimitable grace and readiness.
Then, perhaps, would follow a short distance of comparatively smooth water, quickly succeeded by the plunging and rising as before.
All at once the surface became smooth. Before Rob could guess its meaning something grated against the front of the kayak and slid along the side, followed by another and another. The native slowed his paddling and pushed on with extreme care.
He had entered a field of floating ice, through which it was necessary to force his way with all caution. This was proven by the many turns he made, and it was then that his skill showed in a more striking light than before.
He sat facing the prow and was obliged to look over the head of Rob and along each side of him. His quick eye took in the size and contour of the drift ice, and, hardly checking his own progress, he shot to the right, then to the left, turning so quickly that the bodies of his passengers swayed under the sudden impulse, but all the time he continued his advance, apparently with undiminished speed.
Meanwhile Jack Cosgrove, from his seat at the rear, was looking still farther ahead in the effort to gain sight of the welcome land, which never was so dear to him as when on the iceberg. Once he fancied he caught the twinkle of a light so low down that it was on shore, but it vanished quickly and he believed he was mistaken.
It was not long, however, before his penetrating vision discovered that for which he was yearning. The unmistakable outline of the coast arose to view, rising gradually from the edge of the water until lost in the gloom beyond. It was white with snow, as a matter of course, the depth probably being several feet. The sight of any considerable portion of Greenland free of its snowy mantle would be a sight, indeed.
The floating ice continued all the way to land, and the closer the latter was approached the more difficult became the progress. But the native was equal to the task. He had been through it too often to hesitate more than a few seconds when some larger obstacle than usual interposed across his path. It was very near land that the greatest peril of all was encountered. The kayak glided over a cake of ice, the Esquimau believing it would pass readily underneath the craft and out beyond the stern, but its buoyancy was greater than he supposed, and it swayed the boat with such force that it came within a hair of capsizing.
"All right!" he called, cheerily, righting the craft with several quick, powerful strokes of his paddle. Then he shot between two other enormous cakes, wedged his way through a narrow passage, and the prow crunched into the snow that came down to the water's edge.
"Here we are, and thank the Lord!" called out Rob, leaping with a single bound upon the solid earth; "I feel like giving three cheers, for if ever Providence favored a lot of scamps, we are the ones."
Fred followed as the kayak turned sideways, so as to permit all to step out, but Jack paused, opposite the native, and peered into his face. Something in the Esquimau's voice struck him as familiar.
"What's your name?" he asked, still scrutinizing him as closely as he could in the gloom.
"Docak," was the reply.
"By the great horned spoon, I suspected it! Docak, I'm mighty glad to see you; I'm Jack Cosgrove, and put it there!"
The native was not so demonstrative as his English friend, but he certainly was as delighted and surprised to meet him in this extraordinary manner as was the sailor to meet him.
They shook hands heartily, and Docak indulged in his peculiar laugh, which was accompanied by little, if any noise, but was indicative of genuine pleasure.
The reader will recall that this was the second time Docak had rescued Jack Cosgrove, the other instance having occurred a number of years before, when Captain McAlpine's ship was destroyed by collision with an iceberg.
"You're my guardian angel!" was the exclamation of the happy sailor; "I might have known that if anybody was to save us you was the chap to do it. Come up here, boys, and shake hands with Docak ag'in, for he's one of the best fellows living."
Rob and Fred were only too glad to do as invited, and cordial relations were at once established.
"Is your home where it was when I was here last?" Jack asked.
"Yes, off dere," replied Docak, turning about and pointing inland; "not far—soon get dere."
Jack gave a low whistle expressive of astonishment.
"Now, lads," he said, addressing the youths, "I rather think you'll own that Jack Cosgrove knows a thing or two about icebergs."
"I think Fred and I have also learned something, but what are you driving at?"
"We're well up toward Davis Strait, and there's more than a hundred miles of Greenland coast to the south of us. That old berg has struck a bee line for the North Pole, but it won't reach there, eh, Docak?"
"No; soon turn around—go back."
"Now, isn't that one of the strangest things you ever heard of, lads? The place where the 'Mary Jane' went down, afore that berg, three years ago, was mighty nigh the very spot where Docak found us. I remember he brought us ashore in his kayak—"
"Dis same boat," interrupted the native with a grin, perceptible in the twilight.
"There you are, and, if he keeps on, I'll begin to think that one of you chaps is Captain McAlpine himself, and the other Bill Hardin, who was saved with us."
"It is a most remarkable coincidence," said Fred, and Rob added that he had never read or heard anything like it.
But it occurred to Docak that he was not acting the part of hospitable host, by keeping his friends standing on the edge of the sea, while the reminiscences went on. He stooped and drew his boat far up the bank. The tide was at its height, so there was no fear of its playing the trick our friends had suffered. Then he turned about and started inland, the others following in Indian file.
He was treading a path, a foot or more deep in the snow, and worn as hard as a rock. The ascent was gentle, and a hundred yards from the shore he arrived at the entrance to his home, where a surprise awaited the boys.
When seen for the first time the hut of the Esquimaux suggest the sod houses common on the Western plains of our country, except that the homes of the far North are entered by means of a burrow. Where such frightful cold reigns for months every year the first consideration with the native is to secure protection against it; everything is sacrificed to that.
The walls are of alternate layers of stone and sod, and are about three feet in thickness. The highest clear space within is from four to five feet. The building contains an entry-way, a kitchen, and a living room. The entry is four or five yards in length, two feet or less wide, and no more than a yard in height. It will thus be seen that even a small boy would have to stoop to pass through it, while the interior of the hut itself will not allow a full-grown Esquimau to stand erect. To this fact may be attributed in some degree the stoop shoulders so common among the men.
Half-way between the beginning of the entry and the main rooms was an opening leading to the kitchen. This was small, shaped like a bee-hive, and with a hole at the apex for the escape of the smoke. The floor was bare ground, the hearth consisting of a number of stones placed close together, on which the iron kettles sat, while the fire of driftwood burned beneath. The height of the kitchen is less than that of the main room, so that only the women can stand erect in the highest portion.
When the weather is very severe the cooking is done in the main room, by means of the big oil-lamp, while the thick walls and the heavy furs of the inmates enable them to laugh at the raging blizzard outside.
It was along such a passage as the one described that Docak led the way, followed by Jack Cosgrove, Rob, and Fred, each trailing his rifle, and happy beyond measure that everything with them had turned out so well.
The main room into which the little party entered was about four yards square. It had a board floor and a ceiling—luxuries not generally found in the native homes except in the settlements. The walls were furred off and ceiled, and the spaces closely stuffed with moss. The wall on the right of the main room had a single window with twelve panes of glass.
The main room was the most interesting part of the structure. Along the front of the window ran a wooden bench, near the end of which, toward the entrance, stood a Danish stove. In the corner beyond the other end of the bench was a table. To the left of that was the lamp-stand, directly opposite to which on the other side of the room was a second and shorter bench.
The whole left-hand side of the room, as you entered, consisted of a platform, about six feet long. It was elevated a foot above the floor, the side next to the wall being a few inches higher. At night it was covered with feather beds, which are rolled back during the day, so that the front may be used for other purposes. The lamp used in the Esquimau houses is simply a large, green stone, with a hollow scooped in the top. This contains seal oil, a piece of moss serving as a wick.
It may be well to tell you something in this place about the dress of the Esquimaux, referring now to those who live near the settlements, most of whom are of mixed blood. In the interior, and, along the east coast of Greenland, are met the wild natives, who are muffled in the thickest furs, and bear little resemblance to the class to which Docak and his acquaintances belonged.
These men wore jackets, trousers, moccasins, and generally undershirts, drawers, and socks. The rule is for them to go bareheaded, though a hat or cap is frequently seen. The clothing, except the moccasins, is made from woolen or cotton stuff, bought off the Danish Governor.
The jacket is of gingham, with sleeves and a hood that can be drawn over the head, and fitted in place by drawing and tying a string that passes under the chin. When venturing out in his kayak, or in severe weather, Docak, like most of his friends, wore a jacket and hood combined. This was of sealskin, with the leather side out. The trousers are constructed of the same material with the hair out. Sometimes they are lined with sealskin, with the hair in.
The moccasins are well-shaped sealskin boots, reaching nearly to the knees. When the socks are not woolen, the hair is turned toward the skin. The mittens are of seal leather, with no hair on either side, and are much inferior to many of our own country, for purposes of warmth and comfort.
The Esquimau women are shorter of stature than the men, and walk with short, mincing steps, showing a stoop similar to their husbands. They have small hands and feet, with faces that any one would pronounce good looking. They comb their hair to an apex, which, if the woman is married, is tied with a blue ribbon; if a widow, with black; and if a maiden, with green.
The females generally wear collars of beads, with lace-work patterns and vivid colors. The waist is generally of woolen stuff, and here the same fondness for bright colors displays itself. It has no buttons, and is donned and doffed by passing over the head, and is fastened at the waist with a belt. Then come a pair of short trousers of sealskin, which are tastefully ornamented. Below these are the long-legged moccasins, also ornamented by the deft handiwork of the native owners. The dress of the children is the same as the parents.
Docak had no children, the single son born to him ten years before having died in infancy. His wife was about his age, and had noticeably lighter skin and bright brown eyes. It was evident that she had more white blood in her veins than her husband, who was of mixed breed.
Docak did not knock before entering. His wife was trimming the lamp at the moment, and looked around to see whom he had brought with him. She must have felt surprised, but, if so, she concealed all evidence of it. She smiled in her pleasant way, showing her fine white teeth, and said in a low, soft voice, "Con-ji-meet," which is the native word for welcome.
Her first curiosity was concerning the boys, with whom she shook hands, but, when she turned to the grinning Jack, she made no effort to hide her astonishment, for he had addressed her by name.
"Crestana, I guess you haven't forgot Jack Cosgrove?"
"Oh! oh! oh! dat you—much glad! much glad!" she said, laughing more heartily than her husband had done.
She was very vivacious, and, though she could not speak the English tongue as well as he, she made it up by her earnestness.
"So glad—much glad—whale kill vessel ag'in? Docak bring no ice? Where capen? How you be? Crestana glad to see you—yes, heap much glad."
"By the great horned spoon," said Jack, holding the small hand of Crestana in his hearty grasp, and looking around at the others with one of his broadest grins; "the women are the same the world over; they can talk faster than a Greenland harrycane, and when they're glad they're glad all over, and clean through. Docak, you're a purty good chap, but you aint half good enough for such a wife as Crestana, and that reminds me we're as hungry as git out."
The wife evidently thought the sailor was a funny fellow, for she broke into merry laughter again, and, disengaging her hand, hurried into the kitchen, where she had been busying herself with her husband's supper.
The visitors, knowing how heartily welcome they were, seated themselves on the benches, doffed their heavy outer clothing, and made themselves as much at home as if in the cabin of the "Nautilus." They leaned their rifles in the corner near the table, alongside of the long muzzle-loader and several spears belonging to Docak.
A large supply of dry driftwood was piled near the window, and from this the native kept such a glow in the stove that the whole interior was filled with grateful warmth.
In the course of a few moments Crestana bustled in, her pretty teeth showing between her lips as she chatted with Jack and her husband. She drew the table out near the middle of the room, and quickly brought in some fish, "done to a turn." She furnished coffee, too, and the three guests who partook of her hospitality insist to this day that never in the wide world will they ever taste such fragrant coffee and such delicately-flavored fish as they feasted upon that night in Docak's hut. But we must not forget that they had the best sauce ever known—hunger.
The meal was enlivened by lively conversation, in which Jack managed to tell the story of the mishap that had befallen himself and companions. She showed less interest in the boys than in the sailor, though, as may be supposed, Rob and Fred were charmed with her simplicity and good-nature. She placed spoons, knives and forks, cups, saucers, and plates before them, and there was a neatness about herself and the room which added doubly to its attractiveness, and did much to enlighten the youths about these people, whom they supposed to be barely half civilized.
When the meal was finished, and the wife occupied herself in clearing away things, Docak brought out a couple of pipes, filled with tobacco, and offered one each to Rob and Fred. They, declining with thanks, he did the same to Jack, who accepted one, and a minute later the two were puffing away like a couple of veteran devotees of the weed.
The boys felt some curiosity to learn how it was that Docak, whose manner of living proved that he knew the ways of the more civilized people among the settlements, made his home in this lonely place, far removed from all neighbors. They could not learn everything that evening but they ascertained it afterward.
Docak had lived awhile in Invernik, and then took up his residence at Ivigtut, where he lived until four or five years before Rob and Fred met him. It was in the latter place he married Crestana, and it was there that his only child died.
The loss of the little one made him morose for awhile, and he got into a difficulty with one of his people, in which, in the eyes of the law, Docak was wholly to blame. He was punished, and, in resentment, he withdrew to a place on the west coast, about sixty miles north of the famous cryolite mines. There he lived, alone with his wife, as serenely contented as he could be anywhere. He made occasional visits to Ivigtut, to Invernik, Julianshaab, and other settlements, but it was only for the purpose of getting ammunition and other supplies which could be obtained in no other way.
Docak was not only a skilled fisherman, but, what is rare among his class of people, he was a great hunter. He was sometimes absent for days at a time in the interior, traveling many miles on snow-shoes, forcing his way over the icy mountains and braving the Arctic blasts that had driven back many a hardy European from his search for the North Pole.
While he was absent his wife went about her duties with calm contentment, where a more sensitive person would have gone out of her mind from very loneliness and desolation.
Our friends having effected their escape from the iceberg, it was time to decide what next should be done.
The most obvious course was to go to Ivigtut, where they could obtain the means of returning to England, most likely by way of Denmark, and possibly might hear something of the "Nautilus," if she had survived the gale which caused her to part company with Jack and the boys.
The kayak was strong enough to carry them, and Docak could make the voyage in a couple of days. This Rob and Fred supposed would be the plan adopted, but the native put another idea into their heads which caused in a twinkling a radical change of programme, and brought an experience to the two of which neither dreamed.
While Docak and Jack sat beside each other on the longer bench, smoking and talking, the native frequently cast admiring glances at the rifles leaning against the wall in the corner. Finally he rose, and, walking over, examined the three weapons, taking up each in turn and holding it so the light from the lamp fell upon it. He was most struck with Rob's, which had more ornamentation than the others. It was a modern loader, but not a repeater.
"He berry good," he remarked, setting it down again in the corner and resuming his place on the bench beside his friend; "why you not go hunting with me 'fore go to Ivigtut?"
Jack saw the eyes of the boys sparkle at the suggestion. Why not, indeed, go on a hunting excursion into the interior before they returned to the settlement? What was to prevent? It would take but a few days, and there is royal game to be found in Greenland.
Docak explained that this was the time of the year when he was accustomed to indulge in a long hunt. Twelve months before he had brought down some animals rarely ever encountered in that portion of the country, and he was hopeful of doing the same again, when he could have his friends to help.
So the matter needed only to be broached to be settled. The whole party would go on a hunt, and they would start the following morning, returning whenever they deemed best, and then making their way to Ivigtut at a leisurely rate, set about their return home, if that should be deemed the best course.
The warmth and smoke in the room led the boys to decide to step outside a brief while, to inhale the crisp air, and, inviting Fred to follow, Rob sprang up and hurried in a stooping posture through the long entry-way. Fred stopped a minute in the road to peep through the opening into the kitchen, where the thrifty housewife was busy.
She smiled pleasantly at him, and he might have lingered had he not heard the voice of his friend.
"Hurry out, Fred! Here's the most wonderful sight you ever saw. Quick, or you will lose it!"
Fred lost no time in rushing after Rob, whose excitement was fully justified.
Unto no one, excepting him who journeys far into the Northland, is given it to view such an amazing picture as was now spread out before the enraptured gaze of Rob Carrol and Fred Warburton. In Northern Siberia, the Scandinavian Peninsula, the upper portion of the American Continent, and the Arctic Sea, the traveler learns in all its wonderful fullness of glory the meaning of the Aurora Borealis or Northern Lights.
The boys had had partial glimpses of the scene on their voyage through the Greenland Sea, and there were flickerings of light which caught their eye on the trip from the iceberg to the mainland, and the short walk to Docak's hut, but it was during their short stay in the rude dwelling that the mysterious scene-shifters of the skies unfolded their magnificent panorama in all its overwhelming grandeur.
Radiating from a huge nucleus, which seemed to be the North Pole itself, shot the streamers of light, so vast in extent that their extremities struck the zenith, withdrawing with lightning-like quickness, and succeeded by others with the same celerity and displaying all the vivid hues of the rainbow.
At times these dartings resembled immense spears, and then they changed to bands of light, turning again into ribbons which shivered and hovered in the sky, with bewildering variation, turning and doubling upon themselves, spreading apart like an immense fan, and then trembling on the very verge of the horizon, as if about to vanish in the darkness of night.
At the moment the spectators held their breath, fearing that the celestial display was ended; the streamers, spears, bands of violet, indigo, blue, orange, red, green, and yellow, with the innumerable shades, combinations, and mingling of colors, shot out and spread over the sky like the myriad rays of the setting sun.
This continued for several minutes, marked by irregular degrees of intensity, so impressive in its splendor that neither lad spoke, for he could make no comment upon the exhibition, the like of which is seen nowhere else in nature.
But once both gave a sigh of amazed delight when a ribbon, combining several vivid colors, quivered, danced, and streamed far beyond the zenith, with a wary appearance that suggested that some giant, standing upon the extreme northern point of the earth, had suddenly unrolled this marvelous ribbon and was waving it in the eyes of an awestruck world.
One of the most striking features of those mysterious electrical phenomena known as the Northern Lights is the absolute silence which accompanies them. The genius of man can never approach in the smallest degree the beauties of the picture without some noise, but here nature performs her most wonderful feat in utter stillness. The panorama may unfold, roll together, spread apart again with dazzling brilliancy and suddenness, but the strained ear catches no sound, unless dissociated altogether from the phenomenon itself, such as the soft sighing of the Arctic wind over the wastes of snow, or through the grove of solemn pines.
There were moments when the effulgence spread over the earth, like the rays of the midnight sun, and the lads, standing in front of the primitive dwelling of the Esquimau, resembled a couple of figures stamped in ink in the radiant field.
For nearly an hour the rapt spectators stood near the entrance to the native dwelling, insensible to the extreme cold, and too profoundly impressed to speak or stir; but the heavens had given too great a wealth of splendor, brilliancy, color, and celestial scene-shifting to continue it long. The subtle exchange of electrical conditions must have reached something like an equipoise, and the overwhelming beauty and grandeur exhausted itself.
The ribbons and streamers that had been darting to and beyond the zenith, shortened their lightning excursions into space, leaping forth at longer intervals and to a decreasing distance, until they ceased altogether, displaying a few flickerings in the horizon, as though eager to bound forth again, but restrained by a superior hand with the command, "Enough for this time."
Fred drew a deep sigh.
"I never dreamed that anywhere in the world one could see such a sight as that."
"It is worth a voyage from home a hundred times over, and I don't regret our stay on the iceberg, for we would have been denied it otherwise."
"If there are any people living near the North Pole, it must be like dwelling in another world. I don't see how they stand it."
"I believe that the Northern Lights have their origin between here and the Pole," said Fred; "though I am not sure of that."
"The magnetic pole, which must be the source of the display, is south of the earth's pole, and I suppose that's the reason for the belief you mention. But it is enough to fill one with awe, when he gazes on the scene and reflects that the world is one great reservoir of electricity, which, if left free for a moment by its Author, would shiver the globe into nothingness, and leave only an empty void where the earth swung before."
"I pity the man who says, 'There is no God,' or who can look unmoved to the very depths of his soul by such displays of infinite power."
"There are no such persons," exclaimed Rob, impatiently; "they may repeat the words, because they think it brave and smart before their companions, but they don't believe themselves. It is impossible."
"Why didn't we think to tell Jack and Docak, that they might have enjoyed the scene with us?"
"The native Esquimaux see it too often to care about it. It is hard to understand how any one can become accustomed to it, but we know it is so. As for Jack, he must have looked upon it many times before, when he was in this latitude. Gracious! but it has become cold," added Rob, with a shiver.
"It isn't any colder than it has been all the evening, but we forgot about it while the exhibition was going on."
The boys turned about, and, ducking their heads, made their way along the long entry, quickly debouching into the warmth and glow of the living room, where Docak and the sailor, having laid away their pipes, were talking like a couple of old friends who had not seen each other for years and were exchanging experiences. Crestana had finished her work in the kitchen and joined them. She was sitting on the shorter bench, and, like a thrifty housewife, was engaged in repairing some of her husband's bulky garments, with big needles and coarse thread.
She looked up with her pleasant smile, as the boys entered, their bodies shivering and their teeth chattering from the extreme cold.
"You chaps must have found it mighty pleasant out-doors," remarked the sailor.
"Ah! Jack, if you had been with us, you would have seen a sight worth a journey around the world."
"What was it? Another polar bear, or two of them?"
"The Northern Lights, and O—"
"The Northern Lights," interrupted their friend, with a sniff of disgust; "is that all?"
The boys looked at him, too horrified to speak.
"I'll own that they are rather purty, and the first two or three times a chap looks onto 'em he is apt to hold his breath, and rub his eyes, but, when you've seed 'em as often as me, it'll get to be an old story. Besides Docak and me had more important bus'ness to talk about."
"What was that?"
"This hunting trip; it's all fixed."
"When do we start?"
"To-morrow morning. There's no saying how long we'll be gone, and I've told him that it doesn't make any difference to us, so we get back some time this year."
"Can we travel without snow-shoes?"
"Luckily we can, for Docak has only two pair. This fog and a little rain we've had have formed a crust on the snow hard enough to bear a reindeer, so that we can travel over it as easy as if it were solid ice. The only thing to be feared is another deep fall of snow afore we can get back. That would make hard traveling, but then a hunter must take some risk and who cares? We may see sights and meet fun that will last us a lifetime."
One of the most interesting animals found in the frozen regions of the North is the musk ox, his favorite haunt being on the mainland of the Continent in the neighborhood of the Arctic circle, though he is occasionally met in Greenland.
The fact that the animal has no muzzle has led some naturalists to separate him from the ox species and give him the name of Ovibos. He is smaller in size than his domestic brother, very low on his legs, and covered with a wealth of wool and dark brown hair, which, during the cold weather, almost touches the ground. A whitish spot on the back is called the saddle, though it is not to be supposed that it is ever intended for that purpose.
One of the most striking features of the musk ox is his horns, which sometimes weigh fifty or sixty pounds. They are flattened at the base, the flat sides turned outward, and form a sort of shield or protection for the face.
At certain seasons he is one of the most odoriferous animals in creation. During the spring the musky odor is so strong that it can be detected on the first knife thrust into his body. At other seasons it is hardly perceptible, and the eating is excellent.
Although his legs are so short he can travel swiftly, and shows a facility in climbing mountains that no one would suspect on looking at the animal the first time. It suggests the chamois in this respect. He feeds on lichens during a part of the year, and on grass and moss during the rest.
Some distance back of the native Esquimau's hut, the land inclined upward, becoming quite rough and mountainous not far from the coast.
It was among these wild hilly regions that a herd of musk oxen, numbering eleven, were browsing one afternoon, with no thought of disturbance from man or beast. Perhaps the last should be excepted, for the oxen are accustomed to herd together for the purpose of mutual protection against the ravening wolves who would make short work of one or two of them, when detached from the main herd. But it is not to be supposed that the thought of bipedal foes entered their thick skulls, for the Esquimau is not a hunter as a rule, and confines his operations to fishing in the waters near his home.
The herd referred to had gradually worked their way upward among the mountains, until they reached a plateau, several acres in extent. There a peculiar swirling gale had, at some time or other, swept most of the space quite clear of snow, and left bare the stubby grass and moss, which, at certain seasons, formed the only sustenance of the animals.
It was a lucky find for the oxen, for in the far North, with its ice and snow, it is an eternal battle between the wild animals and starvation, the victory not infrequently being with the latter. It was rare that the oxen found food so plentiful, and they were certain to remain there, if permitted, until hardly a spear was left for those who might come after them.
The largest ox of the party was grazing along the upper edge of the plateau, some rods removed from the others. He had struck a spot where the grass and moss were more abundant, and he was putting in his best work.
Suddenly he caught a suspicious sound. Throwing up his head, with the food dripping from the motionless jaws, he stared in the direction whence it came, possibly with the fear of wolves.
Instead of seeing one of the latter he descried an object fully as terrifying in the shape of a young man, clad in thick clothing from head to foot, and with a rifle in his hands. The name of this young man was Fred Warburton, and he had reached this advantageous spot after long and careful climbing from the plain below. He was studying the creatures closely, now that he had succeeded in gaining a nearer view, for, on the way thither, Docak had told him much concerning them, and they had become objects of great interest.
Fred was alone, and had spent several minutes in surveying the brutes before he coughed with the purpose of attracting attention for a few seconds. Then, slipping his mitten from his right hand, the lad brought his rifle to his shoulder and sighted at the animal.
He had forgotten to inquire at what part to aim, but it seemed to him that the head was the most vulnerable, and he directed his weapon at a point midway between the eyes and near the centre of the forehead.
At the very instant of pressing the trigger the ox slightly lowered his head, and, instead of boring its way through the skull, the bullet impinged against the horny mass above, and glanced off without causing injury.
Fred was startled when he observed the failure, for his friends were too far away to give him support, and it was necessary to place another cartridge in the chamber of his weapon before it could be used. He proceeded to do so, without stirring a foot, and with a coolness which no veteran hunter ever excelled.
But if Fred stood still the musk ox was very far from doing so.
One glance only at the youth was enough, when, with a snort, he whirled about, galloped a few paces, and then wheeled with marked quickness, and faced the young hunter again. While engaged in this performance his snortings drew the attention of his companions, who, throwing up their heads, galloped to him, and the whole eleven speedily stood side by side, facing the point whence the attack had come.
They were of formidable appearance, indeed, for, with lowered heads, they pawed up the earth and began cautiously advancing upon the boy, who had his cartridge in place and was ready for another shot. But instead of one musk ox he was confronted by eleven!
"My gracious!" he said to himself; "this is a larger contract than I thought of. If they will only come at me one at a time I wouldn't mind. I wonder where the other folks are?"
He glanced right and left, but nothing was to be seen of Rob or Jack or Docak. It looked as if a line of retreat should be provided, and he ventured a glance to the rear.
He saw a mass of rocks within a hundred yards, against which a good deal of snow had been driven, and he concluded that that was the only available refuge, with no certainty that it would prove a refuge at all.
"Being as I shall have to fetch up there to save myself, and being that those beasts can travel faster than I, it wouldn't be a bad idea to begin edging that way now."
He would have been glad to whirl about and dash off, reserving his shot until he reached the rocks, but for his belief that such an attempt would be fatal to himself. Nothing encourages man or animal so much as the sight of a flying foe, and he was sure that he would instantly have the whole herd at his heels, and they would overhaul him too before he could attain his shelter.
It was a test of his nerves, indeed. There were eleven musk oxen, heads lowered, eyes staring, with low, muttering bellows, pawing and flinging the dirt behind them, while they continued advancing upon the motionless lad, who, having but one shot immediately at command, sought to decide where it could be sent so as to do the most good.
The fellow at which he fired was the largest of the herd, and it was plain to see that he was commander-in-chief. Upon receiving the shot on his horns he had summoned his followers about him, and no doubt told them of the outrage and whispered in their ears the single word "Vengeance."
It naturally struck Fred that the single shot should be directed at the leader, for possibly, if he fell, the others would be thrown into a panic and scatter. At any rate, it was the only hope, and, without waiting a tenth part of the time it has taken us to tell it, he brought his rifle to a level and aimed at the big fellow.
The distance was so short that there was no excuse for repeating his blunder, or, rather, accident. He sighted the best he knew how, and, while the fellow was still pawing and advancing, let fly, hitting him fairly between the eyes.
The lad paused just long enough to learn that his shot was effective, when he whirled on his heel, without waiting for more, and ran as he never ran before.
At this moment, when it would be thought that the incident was at its most thrilling crisis, it assumed a ludicrous phase, at which any spectator must have laughed heartily.
Fred, as I have said, made for the protecting rocks, with all the energy of which he was capable. On the way thither he dropped one mitten, then his gun flew from his grasp, and a chill passed through his frame, at the consciousness that he had lost his only means of defense; but he dared not check himself long enough to pick it up, for in fancy he heard the whole ten thundering after him and almost upon his heels.
The distance to travel was short, but it seemed twice its real extent, and he feared he would never reach it. He was running for life, however, and he got over the ground faster than would be supposed. Panting and half-exhausted, he arrived at last, and darted breathlessly behind the rugged mass of boulders.
His heart almost gave way when he found it what he feared; a simple pile of stones, partly covered with snow, but presenting nothing that could be used for protection. The only portion was the top, but that was too high for him to climb the perpendicular sides.
It was at this moment he cast a terrified glance behind him, and uttered the single exclamation:
"Well, if that doesn't beat all creation!"
What did he see?
The whole ten musk oxen scampering in the opposite direction, apparently in as great a panic as himself.
The truth of it is the musk ox is one of the most cowardly animals in existence. All the pawing of dirt, the bellowing, and threatening advance upon an enemy is simply "bluff." At the first real danger he takes himself off like the veritable booby that he is.
As soon as Fred could recover his wind he broke into laughter at the thought of his causeless scare. He might as well have stood his ground and fired into them at his leisure.
"I'm glad Rob didn't see me," he reflected as he came from behind the rock and set out to regain his lost weapon and mitten; "he would have had it on me bad—"
A shiver ran through him, for he surely heard something like a chuckle that had a familiar sound.
He looked around, but could discover no cause for it.
"No; it wouldn't have done for him or Jack to have had a glimpse of me running away from the oxen that were going just as hard from me—"
"Hello, Fred, where's your gun?"
It was Rob Carrol and no one else, who stepped into sight from the other side of the rocks and came toward him, shaking so much with mirth that he could hardly walk.
"What's the matter with you?" demanded Fred, savagely; "you seem to find cause for laughter where no one else can."
"O Fred! if you only could have seen yourself tearing for the rocks, your gun flying one way, your mitten another, your eyes bulging out, and you too scared to look behind at the animals that were going still faster right from you, why you would have tumbled down and called it the funniest sight in the world."
"If I had seen you with your life in danger I wouldn't have stopped to laugh, but would have gone to your help."
"So would I have gone to yours, but the trouble was your neck wasn't in danger, though I guess you thought it was."
"Why didn't you fire into the herd?"
"What for? They were too far off to take the chances of bringing them down, and you had killed the leader."
"Why, then, didn't you yell to me to stop my running?"
"I tried to, but couldn't for laughing; then, too, Fred, it wasn't long before you found it out yourself. If, when we get home, you want to enter the races as a sprinter, I will back you against the field. I tell you, old fellow, you surpassed yourself."
By this time the younger lad had rallied, and saw that his exhibition of ill-temper only made him ridiculous. He turned toward his companion with a smile, and asked, in his quaint way:
"What'll you take, Rob, not to mention this to Jack or any of the rest of our friends?"
"I'll try not to do so, but, if it should happen to drop from me some time, don't get mad and tear your hair."
"Never mind," said Fred, significantly; "this hunt isn't finished yet, and I may get a chance to turn the laugh on you."
"If you do, then I'll make the bargain."
"Perhaps you will, but that will be as I feel about it. But, I say, did you ever know of any such cowardly animals as the musk ox? If they had gone for me, where would I have been?"
"I doubt whether they could have caught you, but they are stupid cowards, who don't know their own strength."
"I wonder whether they always act this way."
"Most of the time, but not always. I heard Docak telling Jack how he once put two bullets into a bull, which kept on for him like a steam engine. He flung himself behind a lot of rocks, just as you did, when the beast was right upon him. He struck the stones with such force that he shattered his horns and was thrown back on the ground like a ball. Before he could rise his wounds overcame him, and he gave it up, but it was a narrow escape for the Esquimau."
"It might have been the same with me," added Fred, who could not recall, without a shudder, those few seconds when he faced the leader with his herd ranged alongside of him; "but all's well that ends well. Where are Jack and Docak?"
As if in answer to the question the reports of the guns broke upon their ears at that moment, and they saw the two hunters standing on the lower edge of the plateau, firing into the terrified animals that were almost upon them. Instead of turning to run, as Fred had done, immediately after firing, they quietly held their places and began coolly reloading their pieces.
There was good ground for their self-confidence. Their shots were so well aimed that two of the oxen tumbled to the ground, while the others, whirling again, came thundering in the direction of the rocks, near which the lads were watching them.
"That sight is enough to scare any one," remarked Fred.
"If you want to turn and run again," said Rob, "I'll pick up your gun and both of your mittens, if you drop them."
"Don't fret yourself; if I can beat you when you had that polar bear at your heels no beast could overtake me."
"The difference between that and this was that the brute was at my heels, while your pursuers were running the other way. However, we'll drop the matter, old fellow, since I have had all the fun I want out of it. It may be upon me next time."
"I hope it will, and, if so, I won't forget it; but, Rob, this begins to look serious."
Although the youths were in plain view, the musk oxen continued their flight straight toward them. Unless they changed very quickly or the lads got out of the way a collision was certain.
"You may stay here if you think it smart," said Fred, a second later, "but I don't."
Despite the exhibition he had made of himself a few minutes before he moved briskly toward the rocks, behind which he whisked like one who had no time to waste.
To show him how causeless was his alarm, Rob raised his gun, and, taking a quick aim at the foremost, let fly.
"That'll settle them!" he called out; "see how quickly they will turn tail."
But they did not adopt this course as promptly as Rob expected. He had struck one of them, but without inflicting much hurt. There is a latent courage in every beast, which, under certain stress, can be aroused to activity, and this shot had done it.
Rob stood his ground for an instant or two. Then he awoke to the fact that his shot was not going to turn a single one of the eight musk oxen from his course. They thundered toward him like so many furies, and were almost upon him before he realized that he had already waited too long.
At the moment Rob Carrol wheeled to run the foremost of the musk oxen was upon him.
This animal was the largest of the herd, after the fall of the leader, whose place he had undoubtedly taken by the unanimous wish of the survivors.
Perhaps he was eager to prove to his companions his worthiness to fill the shoes of the late lamented commander, for, although one of the most dreaded of enemies stood directly in his path, and had just emptied his gun at him, he charged upon him like a cyclone.
Meanwhile, Fred Warburton, having darted behind the rocks, lost no time in slipping another cartridge in his gun. He would have assumed any risk before permitting harm to come to his friend, but, somehow or other, he yearned for the chance of saving him from just such a disaster as was now upon him.