“A good idea!” added Rob. He began to make signs to the Aleut. “Here, you,” said he, “get up and go to work — and keep on your own side of the bear.”
He pointed to the crooked knife which he saw in the native’s belt. The latter, none too well pleased, sulkily arose and began to aid in skinning the bear. It was easy to see that it was not the first work of the kind he had done. He laid the hide off in folds, with long, easy strokes, doing twice as much work as all the other three. After a time the boys stopped their work entirely and stood watching him with admiration. The Aleut paid no attention to this, but went on with his work, once in awhile helping himself to a piece of raw fat. In the course of half an hour or so he had the great robe spread out on the grass, with the difficult work of skinning out the feet all done, and the ears, nose, and all parts of the head skinned out without leaving a slashed spot on the hide.
“This beats doing it ourselves!” said John, who was not especially fond of work.
“We ought to thank him some way,” said Rob. “You know a little Chinook, John; why don’t you talk to him?”
John grinned.
“Kla-how-yah, tillicum!” he began.“Klosh-tum-tum, eh? Skookum! Skookum!”
Again the Aleut smiled in his distorted way, but whether or not he understood no one could tell.
“What did you say to him, John?” asked Jesse.
“Asked him how he was; told him that we were all pretty good friends, and that he had done mighty good work,” interpreted John, proudly.
“Well, it didn’t seem to do much good, anyhow,” said Rob. “But what shall we call him?”
“Call him Jimmy,” said Jesse. “He looks as though his name might be Jimmy as much as anything else.”
“All right!” agreed their leader. “Here, you, Jimmy, catch hold here! I’ll show you a better way of getting this hide up to camp than carrying it there.”
He motioned that they should put the hide on the deck of the bidarka, and in time this was done, although the great weight of the green hide, a load for two strong men, sunk the bidarka so deeply that half its deck was covered.
“Now get in, Jimmy,” ordered Rob, pointing to the rear hatch. The native stepped in lightly, paddle in hand, and showed his ability to handle the little craft, even heavily loaded as it now was. Rob pointed up the creek, but with a sudden sweep of his paddle the Aleut turned the other way and started for the sea.
“Quick, get the guns!” cried Rob. “Head him off across the bend!”
Quick as were their movements, they were none too soon, for as they rushed across the narrow part of the creek bend they saw the Aleut almost upon them. He made no attempt to get at his gun, which was buried under the hides in the front hatch, but was paddling with all his might. Without hesitation Rob fired two shots into the water ahead of his boat, and held up his hand in command to him to stop. These things were language that even an Aleut could understand. Scowling and sullen, he slowly paddled up to the bank. He understood the fierce menace of the three rifles now pointing at him. This time he obeyed the gestures made to him, and, turning about, proceeded to paddle slowly up the creek, followed by the boys along the bank.
XI
A TROUBLESOME PRISONER
When they reached the lagoon in front of the barabbara they stood for a time closely watching the latter. No sign of any visitor appeared, however. At last Rob boldly went on, kicked open the door, and called to the others to follow. Evidently, if the Aleut had any companion, he was not in that part of the island.
“You watch me make this fellow work,” said John. “I know a few words of Aleut as well as some Chinook. Here, you, Jimmy,” he went on,“sashgee augone! Skora!”
To the surprise of all the Aleut actually smiled, as though in pleasure at hearing his own tongue.
“Got him that time!” said John, importantly. “Why, I can talk to these people all right. Skora, Jimmy!” he added, sternly, pointing to the fireplace.
“Da! Da! Skora!” said the Aleut, and began to hunt about for wood.
“What did you tell him that time?” asked Jesse.
“Told him to make a fire, and be jolly quick about it,” said John. “If you want to get anything done, come to me, fellows. Look at Jimmy build that fire!”
In truth the Aleut seemed to accept the place assigned him. He not only built the fire in the middle of the hut, but picked up the skillet as a matter of course, wiped it out with some dried grass, put into it some of the bear fat, and added a part of the liver which they had brought along. He handed out the empty pail to John, grunting something which no one understood; but John, passing the pail in turn to Jesse, said he thought that what the Aleut wanted was some water to boil.
“Chi?” asked the Aleut, suddenly, of John.
“Natu chi,” said John (“Haven’t got any tea”).
In reply to this the Aleut stooped down, went out of the door, and walked over to the bidarka, where it lay at the bank. Rob followed him to see that he attempted no treachery, but the Aleut seemed to have no intention of that. He pulled out from his boat a dried seal-skin or two, his old blanket, and his gun, which latter Rob took from him.
“He’s been hunting and fishing,” said Rob. “Looks like he had a bear-hide of his own underneath there. He’s got two or three fresh codfish, and here’s his cod-line of rawhide — with bone sinkers. And here’s a bow and some bone-tipped arrows, besides his spear there on the deck. If we kept his rifle and turned him loose he could make a living all right.”
“But we don’t want to turn him loose,” said John; “he’s too useful. Look at that.”
The Aleut finally produced from under the deck a dirty little bag tightly tied.
“Chi!” he exclaimed, holding it up in triumph.
“You see,” said John, “we’ve got tea all right. Now it looks to me that we could get a pretty good meal.”
By the time the Aleut had prepared their supper for them, and had made each a tin can of hot tea, all the boys began to feel tired and sleepy, for now the hour of night was well advanced, although the Alaskan sun stood well above the horizon.
“I’m mighty sleepy,” said John, yawning.
“I should think you would be,” said Jesse, “after all you ate. But if we’re sleepy, why can’t we go to sleep?”
“That would never do,” spoke up Rob. “We don’t know what this native might do while we were all asleep. I’ve been thinking that over. It seems to me the only way we can do is to tie his hands together, so he can’t do any harm, and then take turns in standing watch.”
“Have we got to do that always?” asked John, sleepily.
“We’ve got to do it to-night, at least,” said Rob, emphatically. “Take that piece of hide rope, John, tie his wrists together, and pass it down to his ankles behind his back. He can sleep a little in that way, at least; and I’ll stand the first watch.”
The Aleut, not doubting at the first of these motions that they intended to kill him, fell upon his knees and began to jabber, apparently begging for mercy. At last he grinned as he looked down at his manacled hands, and presently, without much more ado, rolled himself over on his blankets and seemed to fall asleep. On the opposite side of the hut Jesse and John followed his example, and soon were fast in real sleep. Rob sat by the failing fire, his rifle across