Robert Michael Ballantyne - The Walrus Hunters - A Romance of the Realms of Ice

“I will do my best,” answered Raventik gravely.

“It is not likely,” added Gartok, “that you will find them to-day, for they seldom come down as far as here, and they don’t know we are coming.”

The scout made no reply. Having received his orders he stepped into his kayak and paddled off into the stream, against which he made but slow progress, however, for the river happened to be considerably swollen at the time. He was also impeded at first by his comparative ignorance of river navigation. Being accustomed to the currentless waters of the ocean, he was not prepared by experience to cope with the difficulty of rushing currents. He went too far out into the stream at first, and was nearly upset. Natural intelligence, however, and the remembrance of talks to which he had listened between men of his tribe who had already visited the place, taught him to keep close in to the banks, and make as much use of eddies and backwater as possible. The double-bladed paddle hampered him somewhat, as its great length, which was no disadvantage in the open sea, prevented him from keeping as close to the banks as he desired. Despite these drawbacks, however, Raventik soon acquired sufficient skill, and in a short time a curve in the river hid him from the flotilla which followed him.

Now it so happened that the Indians who were supposed to be a considerable distance inland were in reality not many miles from the spot where the Eskimos had held their final conference, which ended in Raventik being sent off in advance. It was natural that, accustomed as they were to all the arts of woodcraft, they should discover the presence of the scout long before he discovered them; and so in truth it turned out.

The Indians had ten birch-bark canoes, with three warriors in most of them—all armed, as we have said, with the dreaded fire-spouters and tomahawks, etcetera—for, as they were out on the war-path for the express purpose of driving the dirty Eskimos off their lands, Magadar had resolved to make sure by starting with a strong and well-equipped force.

Of course Magadar’s canoe led the van; the others followed in single file, and, owing to the nature of their paddles, which were single-bladed, and could be dipped close to the sides of the canoes, they were able to creep along much nearer to the bank than was possible to the kayaks.

At a bend in the river, where a bush-covered point jutted out into a large pool, Magadar thrust his canoe in among some reeds and landed to reconnoitre. Scarcely had he raised his head above the shrubs when he caught sight of Raventik in his kayak.

To stoop and retire was the work of a few seconds. The men in the other canoes, who were watching him intently, at once disembarked, and, at a signal from their chief, carried their light barks into the bushes and hid them there, so that the Eskimo scout would certainly have passed the place in half an hour without perceiving any sign of his foes, but for an incident which enlightened him.

Accidents will happen even in the best regulated families, whether these be composed of red men or white. Just as the last canoe was disappearing behind its leafy screen, one of the young braves, who was guilty of the unpardonable offence of carrying his gun on full-cock, chanced to touch the trigger, and the piece exploded with, in the circumstances, an appalling report, which, not satisfied with sounding in the ears of his exasperated comrades like a small cannon, went on echoing from cliff to cliff, as if in hilarious disregard of secrecy, and to the horror of innumerable rabbits and wild-fowl, which respectively dived trembling into holes or took to the wings of terror.

“Fool!” exclaimed Magadar, scarce able to refrain from tomahawking the brave in his wrath—“launch the canoes and give chase.”

The order was obeyed at once, and the flotilla dashed out into the stream.

But Raventik was not to be caught so easily as they had expected. He had turned on hearing the report, and swept out into the middle of the river, so as to get the full benefit of the current. His kayak, too, with its sharp form, was of better build and material for making headway than the light Indian canoes—propelled as it was with the long double-bladed paddle in the strong hands of one of the stoutest of the Eskimos. He shot down the stream at a rate which soon began to leave the Indians behind.

Seeing this, Magadar laid aside his paddle for a moment, raised his gun to his shoulder, and fired.

Again were the echoes and the denizens of the woods disturbed, and two other Indians fired, thus rendering confusion worse confounded. Their aims were not good, however, and Raventik was interested and surprised—though not alarmed—by the whizzing sounds that seemed close to his ears, and the little splashes in the water just ahead of him. Fortunately a bend in the river here concealed him for some time from the Indians, and when they once more came in sight of him he was almost out of range.

In the meantime his comrades, amazed by the strange sounds that burst on their ears, put hastily on shore, carried their kayaks into the bushes, and climbed to the summit of a rising ground, with the double purpose of observing the surrounding country and of making it a place of defence if need be.

“Raventik must have found our enemies,” said Gartok to Ondikik, his lieutenant, as he led his men up the slope.

“That is certain,” returned Ondikik, “and from the noise they are making, I think the Fire-spouters are many. But this is a good place to fight them.”

“Yes, we will wait here,” said Gartok.

As he spoke Raventik was seen sweeping into view from behind a point in the middle of the most rapid part of the river, and plying his long paddle with the intense energy of one whose life depends on his exertions. The Eskimos on the knoll gazed in breathless anxiety. A few minutes later the canoe of Magadar swept into view.

“The Fire-spouters!” exclaimed Ondikik.

“Three men in it!” cried Gartok. Then, as one after another of the canoes came into view, “Four! six! ten of them, and three men in each!”

“And all with fire-spouters!” gasped the lieutenant.

“Come,” exclaimed Gartok, “it is time for us to go!”

The Eskimos were by no means cowardly, but when they saw that the approaching foe was double their number, and reflected that there might be more behind them, all armed with guns, it was no wonder that they bethought themselves of retreat. To do them full credit, they did not move until their leader gave the word—then they sprang down the hillock, and in three minutes more were out in their kayaks making for the mouth of the river at their utmost speed.

On seeing this the Indians uttered a wild war-whoop and fired a volley. But the distance between them was too great. Only a few of the balls reached the fugitives, and went skipping over the water, each wide of its mark.

“Point high,” said Magadar to Alizay, who had just re-charged his gun.

The Indian obeyed, fired, and watched for the result, but no visible result followed.

“That is strange,” muttered the chief; “my brother must have pointed too high—so high that it has gone into the sun, for I never yet saw a bullet fired over water without coming down and making a splash.”

“It may have hit a canoe,” said Alizay. “I will try again.”

The second shot was, to all appearance, not more effective than the first.

“Perhaps my brother forgot to put in the balls.”

“Is Alizay a squaw?” asked the insulted brave angrily.

Magadar thought it wise to make no answer to this question, and in a few seconds more the kayaks doubled round a point that jutted into the stream and were hid from view.

But the two bullets had not missed their billets. One—the first fired—had dropped into Gartok’s canoe and buried itself in his left thigh. With the stoicism of a bold hunter, however, he uttered no cry, but continued to wield his paddle as well as he could. The other ball had pierced the back of his lieutenant Ondikik. He also, with the courage of a savage warrior, gave no sign at first that he was wounded.