Part 14 (1/2)
There ain't goin' to be any accidents to me whatever.”
Although the two men were pleased at the remote chance of catching the steamer, their ardor received a serious set-back when the trader came in with the head man of the village and a handful of hunters, for Emerson found that money was quite powerless to tempt them. Using the Russian as interpreter, he coaxed and wheedled, increasing his offer out of all proportion to the exigencies of the occasion; and still finding them obdurate, in despair he piled every coin he owned upon the counter. But the men only shook their heads and palavered among themselves.
”They say it's too cold,” translated Petellin. ”They will freeze, and money is no good to dead men.” Another native spoke: ”'It is very stormy this month,' they say. 'The waves would sink an open boat.'”
”Then they can put us across in bidarkas,” insisted Emerson, who had noted the presence of several of these smaller crafts, which are nothing more than long walrus-hide canoes completely decked over, save for tiny c.o.c.kpits wherein the paddlers sit. ”They don't have to come back that way; they can wait at Uyak for the next trip of the steamer. Why, I'm offering them more pay than they can make in ten years.”
”Better get them to do it,” urged Big George. ”You'll get the coin all back from them; they'll have to trade here.” But Petellin's arguments were as ineffective as Emerson's, and after an hour's futile haggling the natives were about to leave when Emerson said:
”Ask them what they'll take to sell me a bidarka.”
”One hundred dollars,” Petellin told him, after an instant's parley.
Emerson turned to George. ”Will you tackle it alone with me?”
The fisherman hesitated. ”Two of us couldn't make it. Get a third man, and I'll go you.” Accordingly Emerson resumed the subject with the Indians, but now their answer was short and decisive. Not one of them would venture forth unless accompanied by one of his own kind, in whose endurance and skill with a paddle he had confidence. It seemed as if fate had laid one final insurmountable obstacle in the path of the two white men, when ”Fingerless” Fraser, who had been a silent witness of the whole scene, spoke up, in his voice a bitter complaint:
”Well, that puts it up to me, I suppose. I'm always the fall guy, d.a.m.n it!”
”_You!_ You go!” cried Emerson, astounded beyond measure at this offer, and still doubting. The fellow had so consistently s.h.i.+rked every hards.h.i.+p, and so systematically refused every hazard, no matter how slight!
”Well, I don't _want_ to,” Fraser flared up, ”you can just lay a bet on that. But these Siwashes won't stand the gaff, they're too wise; so I've _got_ to, ain't I?” He glared belligerently from one to the other.
”Can you handle a boat?” demanded Big George.
”Can I handle a--Hunh!” sniffed the fellow. ”Say, just because you've got corns on your palms as big as pancakes, you needn't think you're the only human that ever pulled an oar. I was the first man through Miles Canon.
During the big rush in '98 I ran the rapids for a living. I got fifty dollars a trip, and it only took me three minutes by the watch. That was the only easy money I ever picked up. Why, them tenderfeet used to cry like babies when they got a peek at them rapids. Can I handle a b----Yes, and I wish I was back there right now instead of hitched up with a pair of yaps that don't know when they're well off.”
”But, look here, Fraser,” Emerson spoke up, ”I don't think you are strong enough for this trip. It may take us forty-eight hours of constant paddling against wind and tide to make Uyak. George and I are fit enough, but you know you aren't--”
”Fingerless” Fraser turned violently upon the speaker.
”Now, for Heaven's sake, cut that out, will you? Just because you happened to give me a little lift on this cussed Katmai Pa.s.s, I s'pose you'll never get done throwing it up to me. My feet were sore; that's why I petered out. If it hadn't been for my b.u.m 'dogs' I'd have walked both of you down; but they were sore. Can't you understand? _My feet were sore._”
He was whining now, and this unexpected angle of the man's disposition completely confused the others and left them rather at a loss what to say.
But before they could make any comment, he rose stiffly and blazed forth:
”But I won't start to-day. I hurt too much, and my mits is froze. If you want to wait till I'm healed up so I can die in comfort, why, go ahead and buy that fool-killer boat, and we'll all commit suicide together.” He stumped indignantly out of the room, his friends too greatly dumfounded even to smile.
For the next two days the men rested, replenis.h.i.+ng their strength; but Fraser developed a wolfish temper which turned him into a veritable chestnut burr. There was no handling him. His scars were not deep nor his hurts serious, however, so by the afternoon of the second day he announced, with surly distemper, that he would be ready to leave on the following morning, and the others accordingly made preparation for an early start. They selected the most seaworthy canoe, which at best was a treacherous craft, and stocked it well with water, cooked food, and stimulants.
Since their arrival at Katmai the weather had continued calm; and although the view they had through the frowning headlands showed the Straits black and angry, they prayed that the wind would hold off for another twenty- four hours. Again Petellin importuned them to forego this journey, and again they turned deaf ears to his entreaties and retired early, to awaken with the rickety log store straining at its cables under the force of a blizzard that had blotted out the mountains and was rousing the sea to fury. Fraser openly rejoiced, and Balt's heavy brows, which had carried a weight of trouble, cleared; but Emerson was plunged into as black a mood as that of the storm which had swallowed up the landscape. For three days the tempest held them prisoners, then died as suddenly as it had arisen; but the surf continued to thunder upon the beach for many hours, while Emerson looked on with hopeless, sullen eyes. When at last they did set out--a week, to a day, from their arrival at Katmai--it was to find such a heavy sea running outside the capes that they had hard s.h.i.+ft to make it back to the village, drenched, dispirited, and well-nigh dead from the cold and fatigue. Although Fraser had fully recovered from his collapse, he nevertheless complained upon every occasion, and whined loudly at every ache. He voiced his tortures eloquently, and bewailed the fate that had brought his fortunes to such an ebb, burdening the air so heavily with his complaints that Big George broke out, in exasperation:
”Shut up! You don't have to go with us! I'd rather tackle it alone than listen to you!”
”That's right,” agreed Emerson, whose patience was also worn out by the rogue's unceasing jeremiad. ”We'll try it without him to-morrow.”