They fed the dogs lightly during their enforced leisure, but even thus
their provisions began to run low, and they were anxious. It began to
look as if it would be months instead of weeks before they reached the
Yukon, yet they were not discouraged. It was better to steadily, though
slowly, progress toward home than to wait in inaction. When fair weather
came, Joe decided that they must hunt before going farther. This they did
for two days steadily, plunging round through the waist-deep snow, with
a fox, a white owl, and several ptarmigan as the result, just about what
they ate during that time. This was not worth while, and they struggled
south again, with the fast lowering sun as a guide. Another week passed
with slow progress, but the timber got thicker and ptarmigan became
plentiful. There was hardly need to shoot these. They were tame enough to
be knocked over with a stick.
It was weary work, and the last of their supplies was gone when they came
out on a low bluff, the bank of a considerable river. Below them, on the
river ice, was a winding mark through the snow. It might be a caribou
trail, and they plunged eagerly down to it.
There were the footprints of moccasins and marks of a sled!
Harry felt much as he thought Robinson Crusoe must have when he saw the
famous footprints in the sand. They had been so long without seeing human
beings that it seemed as if the country must be utterly uninhabited, but
this proved something different. They turned and followed this trail up
river. Then they rounded a bluff, saw smoke and heard the barking of many
dogs, and from a cluster of timber huts a group appeared, and a man came
to greet them.
“Nagouruk, nagouruk,” shouted Joe, and greeted him in Eskimo, to which
the other replied hesitatingly in a few words of the same language.
Others, men, women, and children, poured out of the village and received
the two adventurers hospitably.
“We’ll camp with these people for a while,” said Joe. “We must till we
can get provisions enough to move on.”
Harry assented. Indeed, both boys were heartily tired of their struggle
against the odds of snow and fast approaching darkness. They were
assigned an empty igloo, but preferred to build one of their own out
of wood, brush, and snow, which had the merit of being clean. Their
new-found friends were generous, had plentiful supplies of dried fish and
frozen meat, and the boys lingered with them at first to rest. Later, the
midwinter blizzards made it impossible for them to travel.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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