The Walrus Hunters, Robert Michael Ballantyne [new reading .TXT] 📗

but which any Nor'-Wester in the land could eat. There were other trifles which it would take too long to mention, and large pots of tea which it would not take very long to drink. That was all the drink they had, happily, for strong young people with high spirits do not require strong spirits to keep their spirits up!

After the feast, the tables and chairs were cleared away from the central, or reception, hall of the fort, and preparations were made for spending a harmonious evening; for, you see, stout people, in the prime of life, who have not damaged themselves with strong drink, find it difficult to exhaust their energies by means of an ordinary day's work.

"Now, Tonal'," said MacSweenie, "get out your fuddle an' strike up."

"The ladies have not finished their tea yet, sir," replied the interpreter.

"Nefer mind that. Just let them hear the strains of Lord Macdonald's Reel, an' you'll make them chump whether they will or no."

Thus encouraged, Mowat began, and sure enough there was something so inspiriting in the tuneful tones, the vigorously indicated time, and the lively air, that the excited Highlander gave a whoop that threw Indian war-cries quite into the shade, seized one of the "ladies" by an arm and unceremoniously led her to the middle of the floor. The cook, who was used to his master's ways, led out one of the other ladies in a similar free-and-easy manner, and soon two couples were thundering on the boards in all the glorious _abandon_ of a Scotch reel.

They danced nothing but Scotch reels, for the good reason that none of them could dance anything else. Indeed, none of them, except MacSweenie, could dance even these in correct fashion; but the reel, like the Scotch character, is adaptable. It lends itself to circumstances, if we may say so, and admits of the absolutely ignorant being pushed, trundled, shoved or kicked through at least a semblance of it, which to the operators is almost as good as the reality.

Nazinred and Mozwa had never seen anything of the kind before, or heard the strains of a "fuddle." It may well be imagined, therefore, what was the condition of their minds. Native reticence stood them in good stead for a considerable time, though, in spite of it, their eyes opened to an extent that was unusual; but as the fun became faster and more furious, their grave features relaxed, their mouths expanded, their teeth began to show, and they looked at each other with the intent, probably, of saying, "We never even dreamed of such things." But that look wrought a transformation, for when each beheld the other's grin of unwonted levity he burst into a short laugh, then, becoming ashamed of themselves, they suddenly resumed their expressions of owlish gravity, from which they could not again be driven until a late period of the evening.

Frequent slices of the mottled cannon-ball, however, and unlimited mugs of highly-sugared tea, had the effect of thawing them down a little, but nothing could induce them to dance.

Next morning they were up by daybreak and ready to start for the farther north.

"Now mind," said MacSweenie, through his interpreter, "don't you be fechtin' wi' the Eskimos. Dance wi' them if ye will, but don't fecht. Better try an' trade wi' them. An' be sure ye bring some more o' your people wi' you the next time you come here. We'll be glad to see you. The more the merrier."

How Donald Mowat translated these words we cannot tell. Perhaps he added to them a few sentiments of his own. However that may be, it is certain that the Indians bade their entertainers farewell with feelings of hearty good-will, and, leaving the lonely outpost behind them, set off on the return journey to their wilderness home.


CHAPTER SIXTEEN.


SORROWS AND SINS, AND A BOLD ADVENTURE.

It was autumn before Nazinred and Mozwa drew near to their village. They took things leisurely on the return voyage, for, as Indians have little else to do besides hunt, trap, fish, eat, and sleep, they have no particular inducement to hurry their movements.

It is true that, being affectionate men, they were naturally anxious to rejoin their families, but being also steady-going, with considerable powers of self-denial, they were good men-of-business, from a savage point of view, and gave leisurely attention to the duties in hand.

On arriving at the outskirts of their village, they were surprised to see that one or two children who were playing among the bushes, and who could not have failed to see them, slunk away as if to avoid a meeting. Whatever anxiety the men might have felt, their bronzed and stern countenances betrayed no sign whatever. Landing near the old chief's hut, they drew up their canoe and Nazinred and Mozwa went to announce their arrival. It was contrary to Indian etiquette to betray excitement, or to ask hasty questions.

They saluted the old man, handed him a plug of tobacco, and sat down to smoke, and it was not till some time had elapsed that Nazinred calmly asked if Isquay was well.

"Isquay is well," replied the old chief, and a barely perceptible sigh of relief escaped Nazinred.

Then Mozwa asked about his wife and received a satisfactory answer. Still, it was obvious to both men, from the old chief's manner, that there was something wrong.

"Adolay", said the old man, and stopped.

"Dead?" asked Nazinred, with a look of alarm that he did not attempt to conceal.

"No, not dead--but gone away," he replied, and then related in detail the circumstances of the girl's disappearance. It must have been a terrible blow to the poor father, all the more that he was ignorant at the time of the girl's motive for forsaking her home. But no vestige of feeling did he betray, save a slight contraction of his brows and a nervous play of his fingers about the handle of his scalping-knife. When the recital was ended he made no reply, but, rising slowly, left the hut and went to his own home.

We will not follow him thither: there are some home-comings which are better left undescribed.

But next day Nazinred relaunched his canoe, and, with a small quantity of provisions and a large supply of ammunition, set off alone for the shores of the Arctic Sea. What he told his wife is not known, but he gave no explanation whatever to any of his comrades as to his intentions.

Arrived at the coast, however, his further advance was rendered impossible by a sharp frost which created the first thin crust that was ultimately destined to turn the sea into thick ice. As even the thinnest coat of ice would be certain destruction to birch-bark, the canoe, he was well aware, was now useless. He therefore returned home, and quietly engaged in the ordinary hunting and fishing occupation of his tribe, but from that date he sank into a state of silent despair, from which his most intimate companions failed to rouse him. Not that he gave expression to his feelings by word or look. It was long-continued silence and want of interest in anything that told of the sorrow that crushed him. It is probable that the fact of Adolay being capable of forsaking her parents in such a way tended to increase the grief occasioned by her loss. But he spoke of his feelings to no one-- not even to his wife.

Mozwa, who was very fond of his friend, and pitied him sincerely, made no attempt to comfort him, for he knew the nature of the man too well to think that by any words he could assuage his sorrow.

All the fine things that Nazinred had brought home, and with which he had hoped to rejoice the hearts of his wife and child, were utterly neglected. He let Isquay do what she pleased with them. The only thing that seemed to comfort him was the tobacco, for that, he found, when smoked to excess, blunted the edge of his feelings.

He therefore gave himself up to the unlimited use of this sedative, and would no doubt have become, like many others, a willing slave to the pipe, but for the fortunate circumstance that the supply of tobacco was limited. As the autumn advanced, the diminishing quantity warned him to restrain himself. He eked it out by mixing with it a kind of leaf much used by Indians for this purpose, but which, by itself, was not considered worth smoking. Even with this aid, however, he was compelled to curtail the indulgence; then the weed failed altogether, and he was finally induced to engage in philosophical meditations as to the folly of creating a needless desire which could not be gratified. The unsatisfied craving, coupled with the injury to his health, added considerably to the grief with which he was already oppressed. He had a powerful constitution, however. The enforced abstinence soon began to tell in his favour, and he actually had the courage, not to say wisdom, to refuse occasional pipes offered him by Mozwa when he chanced to visit his friend.

As that friend had not the loss of an only child to mourn, but, on the contrary, was called upon to rejoice in the addition of a new baby, the fine things that he had brought home were the cause of great satisfaction to his family. But alas! Mozwa, although almost perfect, for a savage, had one fault--one besetting sin and moral disease--he gambled!

We almost hear the exclamation of surprise, if not doubt, with which our reader receives this information. Yes; North American Indians are gamblers; many of them are confirmed gamblers. They do not indeed affect anything so intellectual as chess or so skilful as billiards, but they have a game to the full as intellectual and scientific as that _rouge et noir_ of Monaco with which highly cultivated people contrive to rob each other by mutual consent, and without being ashamed! Their game is not unknown to the juveniles of our own land. It goes by the name "odd-or-even."

The manner of conducting the game varies a little here and there in its details, but its principle is the same everywhere: "I want your possessions, and get them I will, by hook or crook! I couldn't think of robbing you--O no; there might be jail or penal servitude on the back of that; and I won't accept your gifts--good gracious, no! that would involve the loss of self-respect. No, no. Let us humbug each other. I will rob you if I can, and you will rob me if you can, and we'll mutually agree to throw dust in each other's eyes and call it `play'! Nothing, surely, could be fairer than that!"

Of course poor Mozwa did not reason thus. He was not cultured enough for that. In fact, he did not reason at all about the matter, as far as we know, but there can be no question that the poor fellow was smitten with the disease of covetousness, and instead of seeking for a cure, like a manly savage, he adopted the too civilised plan of encouraging and excusing it.

Aware of his propensities, Mrs Mozwa was much too knowing to allow the goods and trinkets destined for herself and family to remain in his power. She at once appropriated them, and