The Eskimo was much disturbed. He explained, with a strange mingling of
Eskimo with his scant English vocabulary, that there was a ceremonial to
be gone through with first. It could not be done at nightfall, they must
wait the rising sun. “One sleep,” he said. “Nanaku kile. Bimeby he come,”
pointing to the sun. “Mucky” (Dead), with a sweep of his hand toward the
reindeer.
In vain Mr. Jones stormed with picturesque and unexpectedly voluble
profanity; the deermen were determined. The head deerman ordered the
goods brought out and laid at the feet of the company, scornfully waving
his hand toward the home trail, indicating plainly that they might
consider the trade off, but he would not have the deer slaughtered then.
Mr. Jones would not return without them, and so they waited.
“Tell him,” he said sulkily, “we’ll wait till sunrise.”
The Eskimo explained, and this seemed to clear matters somewhat. Some
tobacco offered them helped still more; and the head man drove the crowd
away, evidently telling them to go about their business, which they did
reluctantly. He conducted the party down the line of topeks to one which
was near the end, and told them that that was to be their habitation for
the night.
“We’ll stand watch and watch,” said Mr. Jones, as they entered this; “no
knowing what these rapscallions will try to do to us, if we all go to
sleep.”
The interior of this smaller topek was all one room, and there were no
traces of former occupancy, which was satisfactory. It gave promise of
reasonable cleanliness, which could not be said of the others. It was
no doubt a storehouse not in present use. The sled, their blankets, and
belongings were hauled inside; the dogs were tied to the tent-poles
outside, and the Eskimo disposed of himself as best he might. Joe stood
the first watch, while Harry and Mr. Jones rolled themselves in blankets
on the mossy floor of the topek and were soon asleep. It was still light,
though the sun was behind the northern mountains. Indeed, in June in that
latitude, there is but a brief interval of dusk at midnight. The deermen
retired to their topeks, except those on watch with the herd, and save
for the howl of an occasional wolf-like dog, peace reigned.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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