“There un is! Turn she int’ th’ smoke, Dan,” directed Tom. “Th’ huskies is camped in there. Th’ smoke is a signal t’ call us t’ un. They’s seen us.”
Dan swung the boat in, and upon rounding a point and entering a cove two skin tents or wigwams were discovered, and several people gathered upon the shore as if expecting them.
“There’s th’ huskies, an’ their families; leastways they has two tupeks,” commented Tom.
“Tupeks?” asked Paul.
“Aye—skin tents. In summer they lives in skin tents, an’ in winter in snow igloos.”
“They seem to be all men and boys,” said Paul.
“No, they’s women too, but husky women wears trousers. You’ll see th’ difference when we comes closter.”
“Well, they are a rocky looking crowd!” exclaimed Paul.
There were two men, three women and four children, one a half-grown girl. All wore skin garments and were bareheaded, their long black hair, coarse and straight, reaching to the shoulders. One of the women carried an infant in her hood, and its round, bright eyes peered wonderingly over the mother’s shoulders at the intruders.
“Oksunae,” greeted Tom upon stepping ashore.
“Oksunae,” answered the Eskimos, who came forward laughing to shake hands with their visitors, their round, greasy faces beaming good nature and welcome.
Tom began his negotiations at once, conversing with the Eskimos in their native tongue, for they could understand no English.
“Ainsworth and I are going up this stream a little way to try the salmon. Want to go along, Paul?” asked Remington.
“No, I’ll get fishing enough later. Guess I’ll stay and look this crowd over.”
“All right. Don’t make eyes at that young Eskimo girl.”
“No fear!”
Skulking about were several big, vicious looking dogs, which reminded Paul of timber wolves he had seen at the Zoo.
“I don’t like the looks of those beasts,” said he. “Are they dangerous?”
“They’re cowards so long as you keeps on your feet an’ has somethin’ handy to beat un with,” reassured Dan. “Your gun’ll do for that. But let un get th’ best o’ you once, an’ they’ll just rip you up like wolves. They is wolves.”
“They look it,” agreed Paul.
The lads wandered about the encampment, examining the kayaks and crude hunting implements and paraphernalia of the Eskimos. Upon approaching the tupeks a stench met their nostrils, which they found came from half putrid seal meat and fish within.
“They eats wonderful bad meat,” remarked Dan.
“Why, they don’t eat that stuff!” exclaimed Paul.
“Yes they does,” said Dan.
“What pigs they must be!”
“No, ’tis just th’ way they always been used to doin’. They has wonderful hard times t’ get things t’ eat sometimes.”
At the end of an hour Remington and Ainsworth returned.
“Not a strike,” said Remington, “though I’m certain there are plenty of salmon in the stream. We’re a little far north for them to take the fly. But Ainsworth got our dinner. That’s something.”
“Ran into a bunch of ptarmigans,” said Ainsworth, holding up a half dozen birds.
“How are you making out with the huskies, Tom?” asked Remington of Tom, who had joined them.
“Kuglutuk, th’ old un, sir, will go with us. He’s ready to start any time, sir. We has t’ land him at Cape Smith or Cape Wolstenholm, sir, when we comes back.”
“All right, Tom. Can’t we get brush enough around here to broil these grouse and make some coffee? I’m famished.”
“Yes, sir. Dan, get th’ axe, b’y, an’ put on a fire, whilst I dresses th’ birds.”
When Tom drew the birds, to Paul’s amazement the Eskimos gathered up the entrails, placed them on the end of a stick, broiled them slightly over the fire Dan had lighted, and ate them as they might a delicacy.
“Well, I never!” exclaimed Paul. “I’d starve before I’d do that!”
“Maybe,” said Tom, “but I’m thinkin’ you’d eat un an’ like un if you was hungry enough. They’s no tellin’ what a man’ll eat. Th’ huskies eats un because they likes un, an’ entrails ain’t so bad, an’ you gets used t’ un, though I’m hopin’ you’ll never have t’ eat un, lad.”
“I never would,” positively asserted Paul. “I’d die first.”
Luncheon eaten, they bade adieu to the Eskimos, shaking hands again all around. Kuglutuk, his kayak in tow, took his place in the power boat, “Oksunae” was shouted by those afloat and those on land, and the little settlement was quickly lost sight of around the point at the entrance of the cove.
On board the North Star again, a conference was held as to the most probable point at which salmon and trout could be found, Tom acting as interpreter. It was at length decided, upon Kuglutuk’s recommendation, to visit the rivers flowing into Richmond Gulf, which, considerably farther south, offered greater promise that salmon would take the fly, though Kuglutuk assured them that both varieties of fish abounded in all the streams of the coast.
Three days later found the North Star in the latitude of Richmond Gulf, and with much careful maneuvering under the guidance of Kuglutuk, and with frequent heaving of the lead, a safe anchorage was found in Nastapoka Sound, behind the islands which shut out the wider sea beyond.
The entrance to Richmond Gulf is an exceedingly narrow, treacherous channel, through which Kuglutuk declared no vessel so large as the North Star could pass in safety. Through this channel he said the rising and ebbing tide poured with so terrific a rush of the waters that dangerous whirlpools were formed, which rendered its safe passage for kayaks and small craft impossible save at the time of the turning of the tide.
It was late afternoon when the ship made her anchorage, and it was decided to prepare for the passage of the dangerous strait in the power boat when the tide should reach flood at ten o’clock the next morning.
Kuglutuk, Tom Hand and Dan Rudd were to accompany the three sportsmen, and it was planned that the party should carry a full camping equipment, and remain at the head of Richmond Gulf one week.
The weather was propitious—mild, clear, delightful. This was to be Paul’s first experience in camp. Before him lay a rugged, unpeopled, unknown wilderness. He was to enter it and be a part of it. The romance of it thrilled him, and he lay awake that night a long while, feasting anticipation and imagination, too restless to sleep.
CHAPTER IV
THE WILDERNESS PRIMEVAL
THE passage of the channel leading into Richmond Gulf was accomplished without adventure, and within the gulf the power boat took a northeasterly direction, passing several small islands. Many wild ducks, gulls and other water fowl and birds flew about the islands, hovered over the water or rested upon the waves.
Presently Kuglutuk turned the boat into the mouth of a river, and ascending the stream for a little distance, against a strong current, made a landing near the foot of a rushing, tumultuous rapid.
“Tom,” declared Remington, when they were ashore, “I’m as hungry as seven bears. Fry some bacon and make some coffee, won’t you, before you pitch the tents?”
“Aye, aye, sir. We’ll put on a fire an’ have un ready in a jiffy. Dan, b’y, bring up the things from the boat.”
“Come fellows, we’ll get our rods up