It does not necessarily require the
influences of civilised life to make an honourable,
upright man, any more than it needs the influences
of savage life to make a thorough scoundrel.
Of course the tendency of civilisation is to elevate,
of savagery to debase, nevertheless it is certain
that as we occasionally see blackguards in the highest
ranks, so we sometimes find men and women with exalted
conceptions of right and wrong in the lowest circles
of life.
The truth would seem to be that the
Spirit of God is not confined to ranks or conditions
of men-a fact that appears to be confirmed
by the Scripture statement that “in every nation
he that feareth God and worketh righteousness is acceptable
to Him.”
Cheenbuk’s mind must assuredly
have been influenced by a good spirit when, after
descending the little river at the utmost speed possible-so
as to render recapture for a time at least improbable-he
directed his companion to run the canoe on the bank
in an eddy formed by a flat rock, and then, against
his own most earnest desires, advised Adolay to return
to her people.
“While we were paddling down-stream,”
he said, “I have been thinking much, and I cannot
believe that your people would be so hard as to kill
you for only helping a poor Eskimo to escape.
Now, I have changed my mind. I have often found
that it is better to think more than once before acting,
if you have time to do so. What I think now is,
that we should hide the canoe here, and return to
your village on foot together. When we get there-or
when we meet them chasing us-you will go
on, and I will hide to see how they receive you, and
if they receive you kindly-as I feel sure
they will do-I will return here to this
spot, take the canoe, and go to my home alone.
I cannot bear to take you from your father and mother.
I think the Great Spirit, who is the father of all,
would be angry with me. But I will not force
you to return if you are afraid.”
“I am afraid,” returned
Adolay, quickly. “You do not know how angry
the men will be: and you don’t know how
sharp their eyes are. If you were to return
with me they would see you long before you could see
them, and would give you no chance to hide.”
“Then there is nothing to be
done but to go on,” said Cheenbuk, with a sigh
which he loyally strove to vent as a sign of regret,
but which insisted on issuing forth as a distinct
sound of satisfaction!
“You have promised to take me
safe to your mother’s igloe, and to bring me
back to my own home,” said Adolay, with a look
of confidence. “I will go on and trust
you.”
Without another word the Eskimo pushed
off the head of the canoe, which was caught by the
current and swept down-stream. Ere long they
reached the Greygoose River, and, paddling into the
centre of the current, were soon careering towards
the sea at a pace which they thought rendered their
being overtaken almost impossible. To make quite
sure, however, they continued the voyage far into
the night, and did not land for a very brief rest
until the grey dawn had begun to appear over the eastern
tree-tops.
Being both somewhat fatigued by that
time they scarcely uttered a word as they encamped,
but went about the work as if half asleep. Cheenbuk
lifted the canoe out of the water and laid it on the
bank, bottom up, in which position it formed a rough
and ready tent for his companion, who, meanwhile,
carried up the provisions. Seated on the grass
beside it they ate a little dried venison, which required
no cooking-uttering only a monosyllable
now and then with half-closed eyes, and sometimes
with an imbecile smile, which terminated occasionally
in an irresistible nod. The feebleness of the
light, too, as well as the quietness of the hour,
contributed not a little to this state of semi-consciousness.
The frugal supper having been washed
down with a draught of water, from Nature’s
own cup-the joined hands-Adolay
lay down under the canoe. Cheenbuk retired to
a neighbouring spruce-fir and stretched himself under
its branches. Need we add that sleep closed their
eyelids instantly?
But the Eskimo was much too experienced
a hunter and warrior to allow the drowsy god to enchain
him long. Like a dead log he lay for little
more than two hours, then he awoke with a start and
stretched himself.
“Hoi!” he exclaimed sharply,
looking towards the canoe, which was distant from
his lair about five or six yards.
The exclamation had scarcely passed
his lips when Adolay sprang up, and next moment went
blinking, yawning, and stumbling down the bank with
the provisions under one arm, the paddles and weapons
under the other. Cheenbuk lifted the canoe and
followed her. In a few minutes they were once
more out in the middle of the strong current, paddling
with might and main.
Now, it was well that they had used
such diligence in their flight, for the pursuers were
closer behind them than they had supposed.
When the unfortunate Alizay was felled
by the Eskimo, as we have described, he lay for a
considerable time in a state of insensibility, but
he was by no means killed-not even seriously
damaged-for Cheenbuk’s intense dislike
to take life had not only induced him to drop the
knife with which the Indian girl had supplied him to
cut his cords, but inclined him to use his ponderous
fist with moderation, so that Alizay, on recovering,
found himself none the worse, except for a severe
headache and an unnaturally large bridge to his nose.
Gathering himself up, and gradually
swelling with rage as he reflected on the treatment
to which he had been subjected, he ran at full speed
to alarm the camp and begin a search. But where
were they to search?-that was the question.
There were four points to the compass-though
they knew nothing about the compass-and
the fugitive might have gone off in the direction
of any of these, or between them, and it was too dark
a night to permit of his trail being followed by sight,
for, although the moon might aid them in the open,
it would be quite useless in the darkness of the woods.
A hurried council was held, and a
good deal of distracting advice given while the young
braves were arming themselves. To add to their
perplexities, a lad rushed suddenly into the council-tent
with glaring eyes, saying that the girl Idazoo had
disappeared from the village. This news greatly
increased the fury of Alizay, but he had scarcely
realised the truth when another lad, with, if possible,
still more glaring eyes and a gaping mouth, rushed
in to tell that the girl Adolay was also missing.
This blew up the agitation to a frenzy of excitement-not
usual among the Red men of the north-because
the necessity for prompt action was great, while the
impossibility of doing anything definite was greater.
It was just at this point, when the
clamour was at its height, that a sound was heard
which instantly produced dead silence, while every
man and boy became as if petrified, with eyes enlarged
and ears cocked to listen.
Again the sound was heard-a
distant yell undoubtedly, coming from the direction
of the cliff.
All the self-possession and promptitude
of the Indians returned in a moment. In a second
the braves glided out of the council-tent and disappeared,
each making a straight line for the sound, while the
women and children left behind listened with profound
attention and expectation.
There was no lack of guiding sounds
now, for the moment Idazoo managed to clear her mouth
of the gag she began and continued a series of shrieks
and yells which were intensified in vigour by the fact
that she gradually became hysterical as well as wrathful.
The first to reach the spot was Alizay.
On beholding him the girl stopped, and, after two
or three exasperated echoes had finished their remarks,
a profound silence reigned.
Lovers among the Dogribs are not yet
very gallant. Civilisation may do something
for them, as to this, in time.
“You can make a noise!”
said the youth, stepping up to her.
“I have reason to do so,”
replied the maiden, somewhat abashed.
“Did Adolay go with him?”
asked Alizay as several of the other braves ran up.
“Yes.”
“Willingly?”
“Yes-she helped to tie me and showed
him the way.”
“Where did they go?”
“In the direction of the lake.”
Instantly the whole band turned and ran off in the
direction mentioned-
Alizay being last, as he paused just long enough to
cut the bonds of
Idazoo, but left her to disentangle herself as she
best could.
On reaching the shores of the lake
the footsteps of the fugitives showed clear in the
moonlight, and the marks of launching the canoe were
visible, so that there was no further doubt as to what
should be done. The Indians knew well that there
was only one outlet from the lake. Their canoes
were close by, and their guns and tomahawks in their
hands. Nothing therefore required to be done
but to embark and give chase. For this purpose
two canoes were deemed sufficient, with three men in
each.
Magadar took charge of the leading
canoe. Alizay steered the other, and the rest
of the braves returned to the village to gloat over
the news that Idazoo had to tell, to feast on the
produce of the previous day’s hunt, and to clear-or
obfuscate-their intellects, more or less,
with their tobacco-pipes.
As the six pursuers were very wrathful,
and pretty strong, they caused their canoes to skim
over the lake like swallows, and reached the head
of the little river not very long after the fugitives
had left it. A stern chase, however, is proverbially
a long one, and as they overhauled the chase only
inch by inch, there seemed little chance of overtaking
it that night. The leaders, however, being men
of great endurance, resolved to carry on without rest
as long as possible. This they did until about
dawn-the same hour at which the fugitives
had succumbed- and both parties put ashore
at last for a rest, neither being aware of the fact
that their separate camping-grounds were not more than
three miles apart!
Well was it then for Adolay that her
stout protector was a light sleeper, as well as a
man of iron frame, and that he had aroused her fully
an hour and a half sooner than the time at which the
Indians left their camp to resume the chase.
It was well, also, that Cheenbuk required but a short
rest to recruit his strength and enable him to resume
the paddle with his full vigour. The joy, also,
consequent upon the discovery that he loved the Indian
girl, and that she had made up her mind, without any
persuasion on his part, to run away with him, lent
additional power to his strong back. Perhaps,
also, a sympathetic feeling in the breast of the maiden
added to the strength of her well-formed and by no
means feeble arm, so that many miles were soon added
to the three which intervened between the chasers and
the chased. To the horror of Adolay she found
when she and Cheenbuk reached the mouth of the river,
that the sea was extensively blocked by masses of
ice, which extended out as far as the eye could reach.
Although thus encumbered, however,
the sea was by no means choked up with it, and to
the gaze of the young Eskimo the ice presented no
insurmountable obstacle, for his experienced eye could
trace leads and lanes of open water as far as the
first group of distant islets, which lay like scarce
perceptible specks on the horizon.
But to the inexperienced eye of the
girl the scene was one of hopeless confusion, and
it filled her with sudden alarm and despair, though
she possessed more than the usual share of the Dogrib
women’s courage. Observing her alarm, Cheenbuk
gave her a look of encouragement, but avoided telling
her not to be afraid, for his admiration of her was
too profound to admit of his thinking that she could
really be frightened, whatever her looks might indicate.
“The ice is our friend to-day,”
he said, with a cheery smile, as they stood together
on the seashore beside their canoe, surveying the
magnificent scene of snowy field, fantastic hummock,
massive berg, and glittering pinnacle that lay spread
out before them.
Adolay felt, but did not express surprise,
for she was filled with a most commendable trust in
the truth and wisdom as well as the courage of the
man to whose care she had committed herself.
“If you say the ice is our friend,
it must be so,” she remarked quietly, “but
to the Indian girl it seems as if the ice was our foe,
for she can see no escape, and my people will be sure
to follow us.”
“Let them follow,” returned
Cheenbuk, with a quiet laugh, as he re-arranged the
lading of the canoe before continuing the voyage.
“They won’t follow beyond this place!”
Lifting out the big stone, which had
formed a counterpoise to his weight, he flung it on
the beach.
“We will change places now,
Adolay,” he said, “you have guided our
canoe when on the inland waters; it is now my turn
to steer, for I understand the sea of ice. Get
in, we will start.”
When Magadar and his comrades arrived
at the mouth of the Greygoose River and beheld the
aspect of the sea, a cry of mingled surprise and disappointment
escaped them, but when they had landed and discovered
the canoe of the fugitives far away like a speck among
the ice-floes, the cry was transmuted into a howl
of rage.
“Quick! embark! Let us after them!”
shouted Magadar.
“Death to them both!” yelled Alizay.
For a few minutes the Indians followed
the lanes of open water, till their turnings began
to appear somewhat complicated; then the warlike spirit
became a little subdued. Presently one of the
Indians discovered-or thought he discovered-that
the lead of water was narrowing, and that the ice
was closing in.
Promptly both canoes were put about,
and the shore was regained with amazing speed.
After that the Dogribs paddled quietly
up the Greygoose River, and meekly returned to their
woodland home.