CHAPTER VII
_In Which a Blazing Club Plays a Salutary Part, Teddy Brisk Declares the Ways of His Mother, and Billy Topsail Looks Forward to a Battle that No Man Could Win_
Next night--a starlit time then, and the wind gone flat--Billy Topsailwas burning the fragments of the komatik. All day the dogs had roamedthe pan. They had not ventured near Billy Topsail's authority--notwithin reach of Billy's treacherously minded flattery and coaxing. Inthe exercise of this new freedom they had run wild and fought amongthemselves like a mutinous pirate crew. Now, however, with night down,they had crept out of its seclusion and were sitting on the edge of thefirelight, staring, silent, pondering.
Teddy Brisk was tied up in the wolfskin bag. It was the best refuge forthe lad. In the event of a rush he would not be torn in the scuffle; andshould the dogs overcome Billy Topsail--which was not yet probable--thelittle boy would be none the worse off in the bag.
Had the dogs been a pack of wolves Billy would have been in livid fearof them; but these beasts were dogs of his own harbour, which he hadcommanded at will and beaten at will, and he was awaiting the onset withgrim satisfaction. In the end, as he knew, the dogs would have anadvantage that could not be resisted; but now--Billy Topsail would"l'arn 'em! Let 'em come!"
Billy's club, torn from the komatik, was lying one end in his littlefire. He nursed it with care.
Cracker fawned up. In the shadows, behind, the pack stared attentive. Itwas a pretense at playfulness--Cracker's advance. Cracker pawed the ice,and wagged his tail, and laughed. This amused Billy. It was transparentcunning. Billy gripped his club and let the fire freely ignite the endof it. He was as keen as the dog--as sly and as alert.
He said:
"Good ol' dog!"
Obviously the man was not suspicious. Cracker's confidence increased. Hemoved quickly, then, within leaping distance. For a flash he paused,king-hairs rising. When he rushed, the pack failed him. It started,quivered, stopped, and cautiously stood still. Billy was up. The liftof Cracker's crest and the dog's taut pause had amply warned him.
A moment later Cracker was in scared, yelping flight from the pain andhorror of Billy's blazing club, and the pack was in ravenous chase ofhim. Billy Topsail listened for the issue of the chase. It camepresently--the confusion of a dog fight; and it was soon over. Crackerwas either dead or master again. Billy hoped the pack had made an end ofhim and would be content. He could not be sure of the outcome. Crackerwas a difficult beast.
Released from the wolfskin bag and heartened by Billy's laughter, TeddyBrisk demanded:
"Was it Cracker?"
"It was."
Teddy grinned.
"Did you fetch un a fatal wallop?"
"I left the dogs t' finish the job. Hark! They're not feastin', is they?Mm-m? I don't know."
They snuggled up to the little fire. Teddy Brisk was wistful. He talkednow--as often before--of the coming of a skiff from Our Harbour. He hada child's intimate knowledge of his own mother--and a child's wise andabounding faith.
"I knows my mother's ways," he declared. "Mark me, Billy, my mother's ananxious woman an' wonderful fond o' me. When my mother heard thatsou'west wind blow up, 'Skipper Thomas,' says she t' my grandfather,'them b'ys is goin' out with the ice; an' you get right straight up outo' bed an' tend t' things.'
"An' my grandfather's a man; an' he says:
"'Go to, woman! They're ashore on Ginger Head long ago!'
"An' my mother says:
"'Ah, well, they mightn't be, you dunder-head!'--for she've a wonderfultemper when she's afeared for my safety.
"An' my grandfather says:
"'They is, though.'
"An' my mother says:
"'You'll be off in the bait skiff t'-morrow, sir, with a flea in yourear, t' find out at Our Harbour.'
"An' she'd give that man his tea in a mug (scolding) until he got aTight Cove crew t'gether an' put out across the bay. Ecod! but they'dfly across the bay in a gale o' wind like that! Eh, Billy?"
"All in a smother--eh, Teddy?"
"Yep--all in a smother. My grandfather's fit an' able for anything in aboat. An' they'd send the news up an' down the coast from OurHarbour--wouldn't they, Billy?"
"'Way up an' down the coast, Teddy."
"Yep--'way up an' down. They must be skiffs from Walk Harbour an'Skeleton Cove an' Come-Again Bight searchin' this floe for we--eh,Billy?"
"An' Our Harbour too."
"Yep--an' Our Harbour too. Jus' the way they done when ol' Bad-WeatherWest was cast away--eh, Billy? Don't you 'low so?"
"Jus' that clever way, Teddy."
"I reckon my mother'll tend t' that." Teddy's heart failed him then."Anyhow, Billy," said he weakly, "you'll take care o' me--won't you--ifthe worst comes t' the worst?"
The boy was not too young for a vision of the worst coming to the worst.
"None better!" Billy replied.
"I been thinkin' I isn't very much of a man, Billy. I've not muchcourage left."
"Huh!" Billy scoffed. "When we gets ashore, an' I tells my tale o' thesedays----"
Teddy started.
"Billy," said he, "you'll not tell what I said?"
"What was that now?"
"Jus' now, Billy--about----"
"I heard no boast. An I was you, Teddy, I wouldn't boast too much. I'dcling t' modesty."
"I takes it back," said Teddy. He sighed. "An' I'll stand by."
It did not appear to Billy Topsail how this guardianship of the boy wasto be accomplished. Being prolonged, it was a battle, of course, no mancould win. The dogs were beaten off for the time. They would return--notthat night, perhaps, or in the broad light of the next day; but in thedark of the night to come they would return, and, failing success then,in the dark of the night after.
That was the way of it.