Part 12 (1/2)
Down went the dogs into a crack in the ice as he spoke, over went the sledge and hurled them all out upon the ice.
”Musha! but ye've done it!”
”Hallo, West! are you hurt?” cried Fred anxiously, as he observed the sailor fall heavily on the ice.
”Oh no, sir; all right, thank you,” replied the man, rising alertly and limping to the sledge. ”Only knocked the skin off my s.h.i.+n, sir.”
West was a quiet, serious, polite man, an American by birth, who was much liked by the crew in consequence of a union of politeness and modesty with a disposition to work far beyond his strength. He was not very robust, however, and in powers of physical endurance scarcely fitted to engage in an Arctic expedition.
”An' don't ye think it's worth makin' inquiries about _me_?” cried O'Riley, who had been tossed into a crevice in the hummock, where he lay jammed and utterly unable to move.
Fred and the Esquimau laughed heartily while O'Riley extricated himself from his awkward position. Fortunately no damage was done, and in five minutes they were flying over the frozen sea as madly as ever in the direction of the point at the opposite side of Red-Snow Valley, where a cloud of frost-smoke indicated open water.
”Now, look you, Mr. Meetuck, av ye do that again ye'll better don't, let me tell ye. Sure the back o' me's brack entirely,” said O'Riley, as he re-arranged himself with a look of comfort that belied his words.
”Och, there ye go again,” he cried, as the sledge suddenly fell about six inches from a higher level to a lower, where the floe had cracked, causing the teeth of the whole party to come together with a snap. ”A man durs'n't spake for fear o' bitin' his tongue off.”
”No fee,” said Meetuck, looking over his shoulder with a broader smirk.
”No fee, ye lump of pork! it's a double fee I'll have to pay the dacter an ye go on like that.”
_No fee_ was Meetuck's best attempt at the words _no fear._ He had picked up a little English during his brief sojourn with the sailors, and already understood much of what was said to him; but words were as yet few, and his manner of p.r.o.nouncing them peculiar.
”Holo! look! look!” cried the Esquimau, suddenly checking the dogs and leaping off the sledge.
”Eh! what! where?” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fred, seizing his musket.
”I think I see something, sir,” said West, shading his eyes with his hand, and gazing earnestly in the direction indicated by Meetuck.
”So do I, be the mortial,” said O'Riley in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. ”I see the mountains and the sky, I do, as plain as the nose on me face!”
”Hus.h.!.+ stop your nonsense, man,” said Fred. ”I see a deer, I'm certain of it.”
Meetuck nodded violently to indicate that Fred was right.
”Well, what's to be done? Luckily we are well to leeward, and it has neither sighted nor scented us.”
Meetuck replied by gestures and words to the effect that West and O'Riley should remain with the dogs, and keep them quiet under the shelter of a hummock, while he and Fred should go after the reindeer.
Accordingly, away they went, making a pretty long detour in order to gain the sh.o.r.e, and come upon it under the shelter of the grounded floes, behind which they might approach without being seen. In hurrying along the coast they observed the footprints of a musk-ox, and also of several Arctic hares and foxes; which delighted them much, for hitherto they had seen none of these animals, and were beginning to be fearful lest they should not visit that part of the coast at all. Of course Fred knew not what sort of animals had made the tracks in question, but he was an adept at guessing, and the satisfied looks of his companion gave him reason to believe that he was correct in his surmises.
In half-an-hour they came within range, and Fred, after debating with himself for some time as to the propriety of taking the first shot, triumphed over himself, and stepping back a pace, motioned to the Esquimau to fire. But Meetuck was an innate gentleman, and modestly declined; so Fred advanced, took a good aim, and fired.
The deer bounded away, but stumbled as it went, showing that it was wounded.
”Ha! ha! Meetuck,” exclaimed Fred, as he recharged in tremendous excitement (taking twice as long to load in consequence), ”I've improved a little, you see, in my shoot--oh bother this--ramrod!--tut! tut!
there, that's it.”
Bang went Meetuck's musket at that moment, and the deer tumbled over upon the snow.
”Well done, old fellow!” cried Fred, springing forward. At the same instant a white hare darted across his path, at which he fired, without even putting the gun to his shoulder, and knocked it over, to his own intense amazement.