CHAPTER XXX
THE LAST PAUSE
The night slowly settled over the snow waste, and the little party,feeling no discomfort because of the cold, gradually sank intounconsciousness.
Just before slumber weighed down their eye-lids the dismal howl of awolf echoed faintly across the plain. All heard it, and Jack and theboys believed that one of the brutes had struck the trail of thehunters, and would soon be hot upon it, with an eager pack at hisheels. Jack asked the Esquimau whether they ought not to prepare for afight, but he replied that there were no preparations to make. Eachhad his loaded gun and a good supply of ammunition; they could fightas well there as in any other place.
Docak showed no trepidation of voice and manner, and his coolness hada good effect upon the others. They were sure that, if there was anycause for alarm, he would feel it.
This confidence proved well placed; for that single cry was all thatreached their ears. They slept, and were not molested.
But sometime during the night the fine snow began sifting downward,falling so gently that even the Esquimau was not disturbed. Throughthe long gloomy hours it silently descended, until when the daylightstole over the desolate plain, fully six inches had been added to themass that covered the earth long before.
Sitting nearly upright and back to back, the pressure upon thesleepers was so slight and gradual that no discomfort resulted. Allwere so worn out that their slumber was profound, doubtless lasting aslong as it would have done had no such snowfall taken place.
It was Jack Cosgrove who first opened his eyes, and his amazement maybe imagined when he saw their laps buried out of sight, only theoutlines of their limbs showing, while head and shoulders wereweighted down with the feathery mass.
"By the great horned spoon!" he called, shaking himself free andrising to his feet, with such a flurry that the others were aroused;"wake up, for we're all snowed under, and, if we wait a few minuteslonger, we'll be buried clean out of sight."
"What's the matter?" called Rob, being the next to climb to his feet;"has the snow tumbled in on us?"
"Yes; and more of it is tumbling every minute."
Docak was astonished that he had not been the first to awake, for hismind was burdened with anxiety for the rest. He forgot that, inasmuchas his labors had been far greater than theirs, his weariness of bodywas in more need of rest.
"What time be it?" he asked of the boys, who carried watches.
The answer showed that day had dawned more than two hours before. Hesighed at the knowledge of the precious time wasted. Harder work thanever was before them, and when night came again they might countthemselves fortunate if one-half the remaining distance wasaccomplished.
Rising to their feet, with their heads above the surface, they foundthe snow falling so fast that they could not see fifty feet in anydirection.
"How can Docak keep his bearings?" asked Rob, in a low voice, of theothers, when the native, walking a few feet, paused and lookedearnestly about him.
"It doesn't seem to me that it is any harder for him to do so than itwas yesterday when there was no snow falling."
"There is a big difference. We couldn't have done any better in theone case than the other, but he could see the sky. He knew where thesun was, though we did not; and there must have been something in thelooks of the landscape to help, but there is none of that now."
"I can give you the right answer to Fred's question," said Jack, inthe same guarded undertone.
"What is it?"
"When you ask whether Docak can keep the p'ints of the compass in hismind, and make sure that he is heading straight for home, the realanswer is--he can't."
There could be no denying that the sailor spoke the truth. The native,like the Indians further south, may have possessed a subtle skill inthe respect named beyond the comprehension of his more civilizedneighbors, but, in all cases, there is a limit to such ability. Wherethere is nothing to afford guide or clue no living man can walk in astraight line--hour after hour, or hold his way undeviatingly toward afixed point of the compass.
But, admitting this unquestioned truth, nothing was more self-evidentthan that it was sure death to stay where they were; the one and onlything left to them was to push on while the opportunity was theirs.
The Esquimau was a man of deeds rather than words. He showed nodisposition to discuss the situation, and, beyond a few insignificantwords, said nothing to his companions, who were as eager to be on themove as he. He stood a minute or two in study, and then, uttering thewords:
"Come on--work hard--neber stop," began pushing through the snow withthe vigor shown the day before.
The others followed in the order named, and with a resolution asstrong as his to keep it up to the last verge of endurance.
It was necessary. In no other way could they escape the frightful doomthat impended. Another condition was equally necessary; their effortsmust be rightly directed. The guide must lead them toward thesea-coast. Had he the power to do so? The test was now going on, andthe question would soon be settled.
They were terrible words spoken by Jack, but the time had passed whenhe felt it necessary to mince matters. He had done so at thebeginning, but his companions were not children unable to bear thetruth, however unpleasant it might be.
But, despite the good reason in what he said, neither Rob nor Fredquite credited its full meaning. While they could not explain how anyperson could guide himself unerringly, when there was no visible helpfor the eye, they believed that somehow or other he would "get therejust the same."
They proved their own earnestness when Docak, after a long strugglethrough the clogging snow, stopped, turned about, and said:
"You be tired--then rest awhile."
"No," responded Fred, "I want no rest."
"Push on, then," added Rob, "unless you are tired yourself, Docak."
The idea that the native needed rest caused him a half-smile, as hefaced forward and resumed his weary plowing through the snowy mass.
There was no call now to watch the countenances of the youths toprotect them against freezing. The weather was so moderate that theywould have felt more comfortable with their outer covering removed. Ifthe blizzard had come back, it was in such a mild form that it couldlay no claim to the name. It was simply snowing hard, and there wasonly a breath of air at intervals. Had there been anything approachingthe hurricane of two days before, they could not have fought their wayfor a single rod.
When the guide, after another long interval, proposed a brief rest, itwas acquiesced in by all. They had kept at it longer than before, andthe pause must have been grateful to Docak himself.
"We are not going fast," remarked Rob, "but I am sure we have covereda good deal of ground since starting, and when we go into campto-night there ought not to be many miles between us and the sea."
"Remember the mistake we made in our calculations," said Fred,warningly, "and don't count too much."
"How far have we come?" asked Jack, putting the question directly tothe Esquimau.
"Dunno," he answered, turning about and resuming his labor.
"That's the last time I will ask him anything," growled the sailor,displeased at the curt treatment.
A sad story awaits our pen. The poor hunters toiled on, on, on, slowerand still more slowly, with the snow falling thicker and still morethickly, and the uncertainty growing more intensified as the day woreaway. With short intervals of rest they kept at it with heroiccourage, until at last the shades of night began closing once morearound them. Then, all of a sudden, the Esquimau uttered a despairingcry and threw himself down in the snow.
THE ESQUIMAU UTTERED A DESPAIRING CRY AND THREW HIMSELF IN THE SNOW
(See page 277)]
He had made a terrifying discovery. They had come back to the veryspot where they spent the previous night. All day long they hadjourneyed in an irregular circle, as lost persons almost invariablydo, and the dreadful labor was utterly thrown away.
The Esquimau had essayed a task b
eyond his power, and he now threw uphis hands and would struggle no more.
Among the Esquimaux; or, Adventures under the Arctic Circle Page 31