The Young Alaskans, Emerson Hough [the chimp paradox .txt] 📗

one lived over on this side. And we’ve seen no signs of hunting here anywhere.”

Skookie went on to explain. “S’pose my peoples hunt. Kill big bear. Some mans take hide, some mans take meat, some mans take head. Dis head not good for eat, but very much heavy. Some mans get tired, lay it down here; maybe so birds eat-um all up but bone.”

“But how long ago did all this happen, Skookie?” asked John.

“I dinno.”

“And where did the hunters come from?” asked Rob.

“I dinno. Maybe so Eagle Harbor, maybe so Old Harbor.”

“Which way is Old Harbor, Skookie?” asked Rob, suddenly.

The lad pointed back across the mountains, beyond the bay, and beyond their camp on the farther side. “Plenty far,” he said.

“Then which way is Eagle Harbor—I suppose you mean a native village.”

“Eagle Harbor dis way.” And Skookie pointed across the head of the pass toward which they were travelling up the valley.

“How far?” demanded Rob.

“I dinno,” answered Skookie; “plenty miles, maybe so. My peoples live Old Harbor.”

Rob studied for a moment. “I’ll bet that if we kept on,” said he, “until we came to the top of this divide, we’d find the head of a river running down the other way. Like as not it would go to some bay where Eagle Harbor village is. Well, that makes the island seem not quite so big. Come on, let’s go on up to the top of this pass, anyhow.”

So they plodded on, but did not reach the summit that night, nor did they find any further solution to the riddle of the lost bear skull, which latter Rob left in the trail, intending to pick it up on their return, although Skookie seemed to be averse to this performance; owing, no doubt, to some of his native superstitions. That night they camped high up in an air which was very cold, so that they shivered before morning, although their fire of little logs had not yet burned out.

By noon of the next day, two camps out from the sea, and at a distance of perhaps twenty-five miles or more, they reached what was plainly the divide between this valley and another leading off to the northwestward. Here they paused. Before them stretched a wilderness of upstanding mountain peaks into which there wound the narrow end of a new valley, widening but slightly so far as their eyes could trace it.

“Eagle Harbor that way, Skookie?” asked Rob, leaning on his rifle and looking out over the wild sea which lay before him.

“I dinno,” said Skookie.

“How far do you think it is?”

“I dinno.”

The Aleut lad was truthful, for neither he nor any of his family had ever crossed the island here, and he knew nothing of what lay ahead. Plainly uneasy now, Skookie had had enough of travel away from camp. “Maybe go back now?” he asked Rob, inquiringly.

“I suppose so,” replied the latter, “although I’d jolly well like to go over in here a little farther. I’ve a notion we’d come out somewhere closer to Kadiak town; and maybe we’d run across some native who would take us in. But there doesn’t seem to be any game except once in a while a ptarmigan—those mountain grouse that strut and crow around here on the snow, and aren’t big enough to waste rifle ammunition on. Maybe it’s safer to go back to our camp and wait for a month or so more at least. What do you say, fellows?”

The others, who were very tired and a little uneasy at being so far from what was their nearest approach to a home, voted for the return. So, after a rest at the summit, where cutting winds soon drove them back, they shouldered their lighter packs and began to retrace their way down the valley to the sea.

Now they did not have to build any shelters for the night and could use their old camps. They found that their appetites were increased by their hard work, so that after the last camp they had little left to carry except their blankets and guns, although Rob manfully insisted on carrying out the great bear skull, which he found quite heavy enough before the end of the journey.

When at last they left the mountains and crossed the tundra to the deserted village near which they had left their dory moored, they saw that a change had come over the weather. In the north a black cloud was rising, and the surface of the bay, although little broken by waves so far as they could see, had a steely and ominous look.

“Maybe so rain bime-by,” said Skookie.

Rob studied the bay and the sky for some time. “What do you say, boys?” he asked. “Shall we try to make it across to-night? I don’t like the look of things out there, and you know it’s a long pull.”

“Well,” said John, “I’m for starting across. There’s no place to stop here, and I don’t like this place any more than Skookie does, anyhow.”

Jesse agreed that they might probably better try to make their home camp, as their supplies were low, and since, if stormy weather came, it might be a long time before they could cross the bay.

“All right, then,” said Rob; “but we’ve got to hurry.”

Skookie also was plainly nervous. They rushed the dory from its moorings, and all taking oars and paddles, gave way strongly as they could. At that time there were no waves of consequence, only a long, slow motion like the pulse of the sea which came down from the outer mouth of great Kaludiak Bay. The wind had not yet risen, although steadily the twilight seemed to thicken.

For three-quarters of an hour they made good progress. Then they noticed that their boat began to pitch a little, and small, choppy waves raced by. A strong slant of wind was coming down from another valley farther toward the mouth of the bay, opposite which they passed, when they left at one side the long spit of land which had served as shelter to their part of the inner bay.

Evidently the wind was freshening. A fine spindrift settled on the farther side of the bay, so that at times their own shore was cut out from view for many moments. Night, too, was now coming. Without a word the boys bent to their oars, thoroughly alarmed. Rob and Skookie were perhaps the calmest of the four, and Rob undertook to do what he could to encourage his companions.

“One thing you want to remember, boys,” said he, “and that is that one of these dories will stand almost as much sea as a ship, if you handle her right. We’ll keep her quartering into the waves, and will keep on rowing all night if we have to. Never mind where we strike the shore on the other side—we won’t try to come out just at our camp. I only hope we can make it above the mouth of our creek, because if we go below that point we might drift twenty miles, clear to the far end of the bay. Don’t pull too hard now and get fagged, but keep up a steady lick. Jesse, you’d better get in the stem and let John and Skookie each pull an oar. I’ll take the other pair. Get your tin pail ready, Jesse, and if we take in any water, keep it bailed out the best you can.”

The others were plucky, although every one was anxious. The little crew kept sturdily at the oars, facing what was a situation serious enough to daunt even the strongest men. These Alaskan storms are dangerous even to the most powerful vessels, and no coast in the world has a longer record of shipwreck and lost vessels of which no trace ever is found.

When once fairly out in the middle of the bay, the boys got a notion of the power of the sea such as they never before had known in their lives and thought never again to repeat. Clouds now obscured the sky. The wind increased steadily, coming in directly from the mouth of the great bay, and bringing with it all the power of the mighty Pacific Ocean. As these young adventurers looked over their shoulders it was a truly terrifying spectacle which met their gaze.

In steady succession, a few moments apart, there came down into the bay, apparently reaching from side to side across it, long black hills of water, great, roller-like waves which did not break but came in black and oily. Each one, as it towered above the little boat, seemed about to engulf it, but in some way the splendid little dory found its way up the side and across the crest; and then they would see the great, silent black hill of water swing on into the bay and pass out of sight, only to be followed by another. The wind was not yet strong enough to break the tops of the waves, and fortunately the tide was coming in, so that there were no rips, which would surely have swamped their little craft.

“Keep on pulling, boys!” cried Rob. “We’re doing finely. She rides these big waves like a duck. She’s a splendid boat!”

Skookie did not say anything, but once in a while cast an anxious eye toward the head of the bay.

“Is it all right, Skookie?” asked Rob.

“I dinno,” answered Skookie, and bent again to his oar.

“So long as the sea doesn’t break,” said Rob, “we can ride these rollers all right. It’s when she goes white that you want to look out.”

Perhaps this was precisely what Skookie had feared. Within three minutes after Rob had spoken what he had dreaded actually occurred. They were riding steadily up toward the top of a long, oily wave whose leeward side was quite unbroken, when, just as they reached the top, the wind seemed to tear the crest of the wave into shreds. Without warning, a great, boiling surge of white, hissing water came up all around them. It was as though some angry spirit of the deep had risen up from below and tried to pull them down.

The white water poured in over the gunwale and half filled the dory, which seemed on the point of sinking before the long wave crept away, growling, as though disappointed at being baffled in its purpose.

Jesse, who had left the stern seat and was crouched in the bottom of the dory, uttered a cry of affright.

“Quiet, there!” called out Rob, sharply. “Bail, bail as fast as you can! Hurry up!”

Thoroughly frightened, but rallying to his young commander’s voice, Jesse obeyed, and bailed rapidly as he could, the sloshing water now leaving him for the bow, and now flooding him to the knees as it swept back to the stern when the bow arose. The dory yawed and veered unsteadily. Had they struck another piece of white water the end must have come for them, for their craft would have been beyond the control of their weary arms. Good-fortune was with them, however, and Jesse’s efforts steadily lightened their little ship, while the others kept her headed up, quartering into the long waves.

How long they rowed in this heart-breaking manner none of them ever knew, but it seemed many hours. No doubt it was two or three hours before they began to reach the shelter of the nearest projecting point on the farther side of the bay. By this time they were nearly worn out, their arms trembling, and their faces pale from over-exertion, but they dared not stop, and so pulled on as best they could. All at once Skookie spoke.

“Karosha!” he exclaimed. “Pretty soon all light, all light! I hear-um water over dar.”

He meant that he now could hear the surf