by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER IX
A CLOSE CALL
They had made half the distance to the village. Hopes were runninghigh, when something occurred which threatened disaster.
Far up on the side of the hill along the base of which they weretraveling, there stood here and there a clump of scraggly, wind-tornfir trees. Suddenly there appeared from out one of these clumps ofscrub trees, a gray streak. Another appeared, then another andanother, until there were six. They did not pause at the edge of thebush, but rushed with swift, gliding motion down the steep hillside,and their course led them directly toward the little caravan. Sixgaunt gray wolves they were, a pack of brigands in the Arctic desert.
Perhaps Marian, who rode on the last sled, saw them first. PerhapsAd-loo-at, the native, did. At any rate, before she could scream awarning to him he had slapped his reindeer on the back and the sled onwhich Marian rode shot forward so suddenly that she was nearly thrownfrom her seat. In driving in the north they do not travel single file,but each deer runs beside the sled of the one before it. The driverwho is to occupy the foremost position chooses the best trained deerand attaches two reins to his halter that he may guide him. Thedrivers who follow use but one rein. By jerking this they can causethe reindeer to go faster, but they have no power to guide him. Hesimply trots along in his place beside the other sled.
Marian had thought this an admirable arrangement until now. It lefther free to admire the sharp triangles of deep purple and light yellowwhich lay away in the distance, a massive mountain range whose tops attimes smoked with the snow of an oncoming blizzard. Or, if she tiredof this, she might sit and dream of many things as they glided over thesnow. But now with a wolf-pack on their trail, with the nearest humanhabitation many miles away, with her reindeer doing his utmost to keepup with the racing lead-deer, that slender jerk-line with which shecould do so little seemed a fragile "life-line" in case of emergency.
With wrinkled brow she watched the pack which now had made its way downthe hillside and was following in full cry on their trail. They werenot gaining; her heart was cheered by that. At least she did not thinkthey were, yet, yes, there was one, a giant wolf, a third larger thanhis fellows, outstripping the others. Now he appeared to be ten yardsahead of them, now twenty, now thirty. The rest were only holding thepace of the reindeer, but this one was gaining, there was no mistakingthat. She shivered at the thought.
It was a perilous moment, and she felt so helpless. She longed to urgeher deer to go faster. She could not do that. He was keeping hisplace with difficulty. She could only sit and hope that somehow thewolf-leader would tire of the chase.
Even now she was not sorry they had come, but it was unfortunate, shethought, that there were no rifles on their sleds. Ad-loo-at had takenwith him only an old-fashioned native lance, a sharp steel point setupon a long wooden handle. That was all the weapon they had and, footby foot, yard by yard, the gaunt, gray marauder was coming closer.Marian fancied she could hear the chop-chop of his frothing jaws.
Then, suddenly came catastrophe. With the mad perversity of his kind,her sled deer, suddenly turning from his position beside the sled,whirled about in a wide, sweeping circle which threatened to overturnher sled and leave her alone, defenseless against the hungry pack.
It was a terrible moment. Gripping the ropings of the sled with onehand, she tugged at the jerk-rein with the other.
"It's no use," she cried in despair; "I can't turn him."
One glance down the trail turned her heart faint; her sled-deer was nowracing almost directly toward the oncoming pack, the gray leader not ahundred yards away.
In desperation, she threw herself from the sled, and, grasping at somedwarf willows as she slid, attempted to check the career of the maddeer. Twice her grip was broken, but the third time it held; the deerwas brought round with a wrench which nearly dislocated her shoulder.
And now the deer for the first time scented danger. With a wild snorthe turned to face the oncoming foe. A large deer with all his scragglyantlers might hold a single wolf at bay, but this deer's antlers hadbeen cut to mere stubs that he might travel more lightly. With suchweapons he must quickly come to grief.
It was a tragic moment. Marian searched her brain for a plan. Flightwas now out of the question, yet defense seemed impossible; there wasnot a weapon on her sled.
Suddenly her heart leaped for joy. The fight was to be taken from herhand. Ad-loo-at, with the faithful oversight which he exercised overthose entrusted to his care, having seen all that had happened hadwhirled his deer about, tied it to Lucile's sled and now came racingover the snow. He swung above his head the trusty native lance whichhad meant defeat to so many wild beasts in the days of long ago.
But what was this? Instead of dashing right at the enemy, the Eskimoboy was coming straight for the reindeer and on the opposite side fromthat on which the wolf was approaching.
"He doesn't see the leader," Marian groaned. "He thinks the rest ofthe pack are all there are."
But in another second she knew this to be untrue, for, stooping low,the boy appeared to go on all fours as he glided over the snow; he wasstalking the wolf even as the wolf was stalking the deer.
Realizing that the wolf was planning to attack the deer and not her,Marian set herself to watch a spectacle such as she would seldomwitness in a lifetime.
She had often seen the antics of the Eskimo and Chukche hunters as theyperformed in the cosgy (common workroom) during the long Arctic nights.She had seen them go through this gliding motion which Ad-loo-atpracticed now. She had seen them turn, leap in the air and kick ashigh as their heads with both feet, landing again on their feet with asmile. She had admired these feats, which no white boy could do, buthad thought them only a form of play. Now she was beginning to realizethat they were part of the training for just such emergencies as this.
Now her eyes were on the wolf, and now on the boy. As the wolfapproached she cringed back to the very end of her jerk-line. She sawhis red tongue lolling, heard the chop-chop of his iron jaws and caughtthe wicked gleam of his eyes.
The boy appeared to time his pace, for he came on more slowly. Thedeer, still facing the wolf, gave forth a wild snort of rage. Heappeared to be unconscious of the fact that he was as defenseless ashis driver.
Now the wolf was but a few yards away. Suddenly, pausing, he sprangquickly to the right, to the left, then to the right again. Before thedeer could recover his bewildered senses, the wolf leaped full for hisside.
But someone else leaped too. With a marvelous spring, the Eskimo boylanded full upon the reindeer's back. Coming face to face with thesurprised and enraged wolf, he poised his lance for the fatal thrust.But at that instant, with a bellow of fear, the deer bolted.
In wild consternation Marian tugged at the skin-rope. In anothermoment she had the deer under control and turned to witness a battleroyal. The Eskimo had been thrown from the deer's back, but, agile asa cat, he had landed upon his feet and had turned to face the enemy.He was not a moment too soon, for with a snarl of fury the wolf wasupon him.
For a fraction of a second the lance gleamed. Came a snarl, half ofrage, half of fear, as the wolf fell backward. But he was on his feetagain. It was to no purpose. All was over in an instant. Longpractice with the lance had given the boy power to baffle his enemy andsend the lance straight to the wild beast's heart.
"Come," Marian was startled by the sound of his voice at her side. Shehad managed to retain her hold on the jerk-rein. She now felt it beingtaken from her, knew that she was being lifted onto the sled and, thenext moment, sensed the cool breeze that fanned her cheek. They wereracing away to join Lucile and to continue their journey.
As she looked back, she saw the cowardly pack snarling over the bonesof their fallen leader, and realizing that all danger was past, settleddown in her place with a sigh as she said:
"That--that was a very close one."
"Too much close," Ad-loo-at smiled back. "In north we must go
--how yousay it--pre--pre--"
"Prepared," supplemented Marian. "We'll never travel again withoutrifles."
"Oh! yes. Mebby," the boy smiled back. "Mebby all right. Mebby riflemiss fire. Him never miss fire." He patted first his lance, then themuscles of his strong right arm. "Better prepared think mine."
Marian smiled as the brown boy ran ahead to free his own deer andprepare to continue the journey. "Surely," she thought, "physicalfitness is a great thing. The boy has paid us well for fighting hisbattles for him on Puget Sound."
No further adventures befell them on their journey, but it was withthankful hearts that they saw the familiar outlines of the village atEast Cape. As the reindeer came to a stop they sprang from their sled,but Ad-loo-at made no move to follow them. "Me--I go back," he saidgravely. "You safe--I no stay."
"But you must rest--and eat," remonstrated Lucile. "And the reindeers,they need rest."
"Huh," came the answer, with a shrug. "Better time to rest when allwork is done. Me young; reindeers young--we rest at camp."
"But you must wait till I--I--well, there is something that I--thatyou--" Lucile fumbled for the right words. She sensed that the boy,for all his youth, had a grown-up way of looking at things. There wasthat talisman she had carried ever since that night he had left themthere on the island of Puget Sound--the three elk teeth set with jadeand an uncut diamond. "Don't let him go, Marian, till I come back."
She darted into their igloo, to return an instant later, the odd jewelgleaming in her hand. At sight of it a smile spread over Ad-loo-at'sface. "Ch--k!" he chuckled.
"You must take it back," Lucile demanded.
The boy threw back his head and laughed boisterously. "It is a charm,"he said. "Can one Chukche take back a charm? It will keep you--whatyou say?--safe, yes. Me, I have this." He held up his lance.
"But you must," urged Marian in turn.
"Must--hear you that, reindeer. Heya! let us go!" He waved his lancealoft in farewell. "Heya--mush!" he commanded, and the three reindeerbroke into the untiring stride that would soon carry them from sight.The two girls stood watching him till, with a last wave of his hand, hedisappeared around a hill. Then, alone again, they thought of Phi.
"I wonder if he has gone on without us," said Marian.
"I wonder. No, there he is!" exclaimed Lucile. "He's coming down thehill to meet us."
"Are--are we too late?" Lucile faltered as he reached their side.
"About six hours, I should say," Phi grinned.
"Six hours?"
"His nibs, the old Chukche guide, left for Cape Prince of Wales and allsuburban points some six hours ago. Some one offered him more moneythan I did. I have a fancy it was your friend, the bearded miner whowanted my mail."
"And--and you waited for us?"
"Naturally, since the guide left."
"But you could have gone sooner?"
"Some three days, I'm told."
"But you didn't?"
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
Marian's head whirled. She was torn between conflicting emotions.Most of all, she felt terribly ashamed. Here was a boy she had notfully trusted, yet he had given up a chance to escape to freedom andhad waited for them.
"I--I beg your pardon," she said weakly. She sat down ratherunsteadily on the reindeer sled.
"We couldn't help it," she said presently. "They just wouldn't bringus back. Isn't there some other way?"
"I've thought of a possible one. I'll make a little try-out. Be backin an hour."
Phi was off like a flash. A few minutes later the girls thought theyheard him calling old Rover, who had been left in his care.
"Wonder what he wants of him?" said Lucile.
"I don't know," said Marian. "But I do know I'm powerful hungry.Let's go find something to eat."