Part 13 (1/2)
The evergreen wall with the big stone chimney shouldering itself up to look out upon the frozen highway, became a conspicuous feature in the landscape, welcome as the weeks went on to many an eye wearied with long looking for shelter, and blinded by the snow-whitened waste.
An exception to what became a rule was, of all men, Nicholas. When the stockade was half done, the Prince and an equerry appeared on the horizon, with the second team the camp had seen, the driver much concerned to steer clear of the softened snow and keep to that part of the river ice windswept and firm, if roughest of all. Nicholas regarded the stockade with a cold and beady eye.
No, he hadn't time to look at it. He had promised to ”mush.” He wasn't even hungry.
It did little credit to his heart, but he seemed more in haste to leave his new friends than the least friendly of them would have expected.
”Oh, wait a sec.,” urged the deeply disappointed Boy. ”I wanted awf'ly to see how your sled is made. It's better 'n Father Wills'.”
”Humph!” grunted Nicholas scornfully; ”him no got Innuit sled.”
”Mac and I are goin' to try soon's the stockade's done--”
”Goo'-bye,” interrupted Nicholas.
But the Boy paid no attention to the word of farewell. He knelt down in the snow and examined the sled carefully.
”Spruce runners,” he called out to Mac, ”and--jee! they're shod with ivory! _Jee!_ fastened with sinew and wooden pegs. Hey?”--looking up incredulously at Nicholas--”not a nail in the whole shebang, eh?”
”Nail?” says Nicholas. ”Huh, no _nail!_” as contemptuously as though the Boy had said ”bread-crumbs.”
”Well, she's a daisy! When you comin' back?”
”Comin' pretty quick; goin' pretty quick. Goo'-bye! _Mus.h.!.+_” shouted Nicholas to his companion, and the dogs got up off their haunches.
But the Boy only laughed at Nicholas's struggles to get started. He hung on to the loaded sled, examining, praising, while the dogs, after the merest affectation of trying to make a start, looked round at him over their loose collars and grinned contentedly.
”Me got to mush. Show nex' time. Mus.h.!.+”
”What's here?” the Boy shouted through the ”mus.h.i.+ng”; and he tugged at the goodly load, so neatly disposed under an old reindeer-skin sleeping-bag, and lashed down with raw hide.
That? Oh, that was fish. _”Fis.h.!.+_ Got so much fish at starving Pymeut you can go hauling it down river? Well, sir, _we_ want fish. We _must_ have fish. Hey?” The Boy appealed to the others.
”Yes.”
”R-right y'arre!”
”I reckon we just do!”
But Nicholas had other views.
”No, me take him--” He hitched his body in the direction of Ikogimeut.
”Bless my soul! you've got enough there for a regiment. You goin' to sell him? Hey?”
Nicholas shook his head.
”Oh, come off the roof!” advised the Boy genially.
”You ain't carryin' it about for your health, I suppose?” said Potts.