Part 13 (1/2)

But as he shook himself back into reality, a startling question had come to him. His lips put it in words.

”How are we going to tell that schooner when we see it?” he barked through the Major's telephone. ”Won't she be buried in snow?”

”Probably will,” admitted the Major, ”but there's sure to be a native village near by, and though their houses are built of snow, they always have a litter of black things about--sleds, hunting implements, skins, and the like. We can't miss it.”

”Natives. M-m-m,” Bruce mumbled. ”Nagyuktogmiut, or something like that.

Hope the white man happens to be about when we land. I've read Stefansson's account of them. They treated him all right, but when old Thunderbird, his own self, brings them some white men, they may not be so glad to see them, and those chaps have copper-pointed spears and arrows, not to speak of rifles.”

”The Indians didn't bother us,” phoned back the Major.

”That's right. Well, I hope this is our lucky day.” Bruce again gave his whole attention to driving. Then, as they made out in the distance some high elevations, that might be land or might be clouds, he dropped to a lower level and scanned the surface of the ice for a black spot which would tell of human habitations. The village, he knew, might be fifty miles from land, for these Eskimos lived on the ocean's roof during the entire winter and hunted seal and great-seal, moving only now and again when game became scarce.

”There they are, over to the right,” he exclaimed presently. He set his machine in the general direction indicated. Soon a black patch began to appear among the lights and shadows. Surely here was the village they sought. The realization set his heart thumping violently.

”Drop in close and look for a landing.”

The Major twisted in his seat and scanned the ice narrowly as he spoke.

”Just beyond them seems to be a broad flat pan. Looks safe. Try it”

Bruce cut off his engines and began circling down. It was the dead of night. Apparently every person about the village was asleep. Now he could distinguish sleds and skins hung on ice-piles to dry. Now he located the double rows of dome houses. They were going to pa.s.s right over these, but high enough to miss them.

Then, rapidly, things happened. A vagrant current of wind seized them and they ”b.u.mped” in air. The next instant it was evident that a crash was inevitable. They were swooping straight down upon a row of snow-domes.

But the machine was heavy, the snow-houses, mere sh.e.l.ls, without the sign of a shock, yielding to the compact, went spinning away in little bits, revealing scores of sleepers snug beneath their deerskins. They had awakened Bedlam. Men shouted, women and children screamed, dogs barked.

”Like knocking over a bee-hive,” chuckled Barney.

Bruce, with a remarkably cool head, brought his machine to the smooth surface beyond. In a moment she was slowing up to a perfect landing.

”Quick! The machine-gun!” exclaimed Barney.

Bruce gave one startled look behind them, then began working feverishly.

Already Barney and the Major were unstrapping themselves.

Across the ice in the vague moonlight a motley throng, a hundred strong, was charging down upon them. Half-naked, their brown arms gleaming, they seemed the inhabitants of some South Sea isle rather than Eskimos of the Farthest North. Copper-pointed spears gleamed yellow and gold, while here and there the dark barrel of a hunting rifle was to be seen.

”Go slow,” warned the Major. ”Remember it's men, women and children instead of wolves this time. They're wild, but they're human. Send a volley into the ice-piles at the left. Show 'em what you've got and they'll stop--perhaps.”

As Bruce turned the barrel of his deadly weapon, he caught the low rumble of many voices. The natives were chanting a witching song to destroy the power of evil spirits.

”Tat-tat-tat-tat.” The machine-gun spoke. Bits of ice flew wildly. The mob halted for a moment, then plunged on, still chanting that maddening song.

Just at the moment when a ma.s.sacre seemed inevitable, there came a roar from the right. Turning, Bruce saw the form of a bearded man apparently rising from a hole in a giant ice-cake. At the sound the wild mob halted.

”Hey! You fellows!” the stranger bellowed. ”What's the matter with you?”

Then he turned to the natives and began to harangue them in a tongue quite unknown even to the Major.

The instant Bruce saw the red-whiskered giant rise, seemingly from the ocean, his hand relaxed on the machine-gun and he stood in ready expectation. The Eskimos appeared to understand the words which the stranger flung at them, for, though they continued their weird incantation, they lowered their weapons and did not attempt to approach nearer the white men.

Presently their weapons began clattering to the ice. Taking this as a sign of friendliness, the explorers stepped out to meet them. Seeing this, the natives gathered into a compact group, their song rising to a wild humming howl, but they made no move to attack. When the strangers were quite close, one native, braver than his companions, stepped forward. Still chanting, he handed each explorer a small cube of whale blubber. One cube remained in his own hand. This he proceeded to swallow, indicating at the same time that the strangers were to follow his example.