CHAPTER XIII
O'BRIEN
Surprise held Connie Morgan and Waseche Bill spellbound as they stoodankle-deep in the glittering frost spicules that carpeted the surface ofthe ice-locked river, and gazed speechless into the face that stared atthem over the top of the rime-crusted rock.
The spell broke. From behind other rocks appeared other faces surmountedby odd beaver-skin caps, edged with the feathers of the blue, and snowgoose, and of the great white Arctic owl. The partners glanced from oneto the other of these strange, silent faces that regarded them throughwide-set, in-slanting eyes. The faces were white--or rather, through thewinter's accumulation of grease and blubber soot, they showed a lightbrownish yellow that, in comparison with the faces of other Indians,would easily pass for white. And they were so nearly alike that astranger would have been at his wits' end to have distinguished one fromanother--all except the first one, the man whose face appeared sosuddenly almost at Waseche Bill's side. He was taller than the others,his nose longer and thinner, and his whole lower face was concealedbehind a luxurious growth of flaming red whiskers, while through thesoot and grease his skin showed ruddy, rather than yellow, and hissmall, deep-set eyes were of a peculiar greenish hue.
"Japs an' Irish!" exclaimed Waseche Bill. "Carlson was right--even tohis frozen fohest an' white Injuns!"
He addressed the company with a comprehensive wave of his arm:
"Good evenin', gents. How they comin'?"
His words were greeted with stony-faced stares as meaningless and voidof expression as the stare of a frozen fish. Waseche tried again:
"It's a right smaht spell o' weatheh we're havin', ain't it? An' how'sall the folks? Don't all talk to onct, now, till I get through welcomin'yo' into me an' the kid's midst--oah else tellin' yo' how glad we-all ahto find ouhselves amongst yo'--owin' to who's givin' the pahty." Heglanced from face to face, but, as before, all were stolid as gravenimages. Suddenly he turned upon the bewhiskered one of the green eyes:
"Hey, yo' red chinchilly! Cain't yo' talk none? An' cain't yo' yellehperils, heah, ondehstand no language? I cain't talk no laundry, myself,but besides American, I'm some fluent in Chinook, Metlakat', Tlinkit,an' Athapascan. As fo' yo', yo' look to me like the Tipperary section ofa Patrick's Day parade! Come on, now--loosen up! If yo' an' Injun, so'mI--only I've done moulted my feathehs, an' washed my face since theFo'th of July!"
Directly addressed, the man stepped from behind his rock, and the lid ofthe left green eye dropped in a decided wink. The others immediatelyfollowed, crowding close about the newcomers. Squat, full-bodied men,they were, fur-clad from top to toe, and all armed with short,copper-tipped harpoons which they leaned upon as they stared. Wasechegrinned into their wide, flat faces, as he of the red whiskers elbowedto the fore and spoke in a singsong voice with a decided Hibernianaccent:
"Which me name's O'Brien," he began, "an' ut's both sorry an' glad Oi amto see ye. But, phwere's th' shtampede?" He glanced anxiously up theriver.
"What stampede?" asked Waseche, in surprise.
"Phy, th' shtampede! Th' shtampede to th' Ignatook, th' creekyondher--th' creek that biles."
"Sea'ch me! Me an' the kid's all theah is--an' yo' wouldn't hahdly callus a stampede."
"But, Car-rlson! An' th' breed, Pete Mateese! Didn't they nayther wangit t'rough? Ilse, how'd ye come to be follyin' th' back thrail?" Theman's anxiety increased, and he waited impatiently for an answer.
"No. Carlson didn't get through. We come onto his last camp about tendays back. He died huntin' the Tatonduk divide. But, how come yo'-all tobe heah? Who's yo' friends? An' wheah's ouh outfit?"
"Hivin hilp th' bunch av us!" wailed the Irishman. "No shtampede, aftherall--an' we'll all be dead befoor we live to git out av this!" The mangazed far out into the gathering gloom, wringing his hands and mutteringto himself. Suddenly his eyes lighted, and he questioned the twoeagerly:
"D'yez know about Flor-ridy?" he asked, "phwere they say a man kin bewar-rum? An' how man-ny quar-rts av nuggits w'd ut take f'r th'car-r-fare, an' to buy, me'be ut's a bit av a tobaccy shtor-re on th'sunny soide av th' shtrate, wid a bit av a gar-rdin behint, an' a pig inhis pin in th' yar-rud?
"An', shpykin' av tobaccy, hav' yez a bit to shpare? Ut's niver a shmokeOi've had in goin' on six year--an' kin ye lind me th' loan av amatch?"
Waseche tossed the man his tobacco and eyed him sharply as he lightedthe short, black cutty pipe that he produced from a pocket of his thickcaribou-hide shirt.
"They've took th' outfit to th' village," O'Brien said. "But, aboutFlor-ridy, now----"
"We'll talk that oveh lateh. Let's be mushin', I don't want them sledstoo fah in th' lead."
"Sur-re, they'll not be far-r. 'Tis ondly ar-round th' bind av th'r-river." He spoke a few harsh, guttural syllables to one of thefur-clad men, who wore across his shoulders the skin of a beautifulblack fox.
"'Tis a foine language, ain't ut? An' to think Oi've hur-rd no other f'rsix years past!"
"What do yo' call it?" asked Waseche, as they followed in the wake ofthe natives, who had started northward at the Irishman's words.
"Call ut! How sh'uld Oi know? Oi c'd be ar-rested in an-ny town inOirland f'r phwat Oi've called ut! But, Oi've got used to ut, now--sameas th' raw fish, an' blubber. How man-ny cans av nuggits did ye say?Wan quar-rt tomatty cans, wid a rid label, haypin' full--an' is utraylly hot in Flor-ridy, or ondly middlin' war-rum, loike Kildare in th'summer?"
"Florida's hot," ventured Connie. "I learned about it in school. Andthere's oranges, and alligators that eat you when you go in swimming."
"Shwimmin'! Sur-re, Oi ain't bin shwimmin' in, Oi don't know phwin. Phy,Oi ain't seen me _hide_ in six years!"
They proceeded a short distance, with O'Brien muttering and chuckling inthe rear, and upon rounding a sharp bend, came in sight of the village,a group of some fifteen or twenty snow _igloos_, situated upon a plateauor terrace overlooking the river. In front of an _igloo_ somewhat largerthan the others, stood the dog-teams with their loaded sleds surroundedby a crowd of figures that differed in no single particular from thedozen or so who mushed along in advance. Old Boris, Mutt, and Slasher,the three unharnessed dogs that had accompanied Connie and Waseche tothe top of the high plateau from which they had obtained the view of thecreek of the steam and the white forest, now trotted close to the heelsof the boy.
"I don't quite like the looks of things, kid," whispered Waseche, asthey approached the trail that slanted upward to the village. "O'Brien'stouched a little in his uppeh stohy, but he may be smaht enough in somethings. He ain't wild-eyed, an' me'be he'll be all right now. I reckonhe's jest be'n thinkin' of them wahm countries till he's a bit off. Wegot to keep ouh eyes peeled an' get out of this heah fix the best way wecan. Me'be the Irishman'll help, an' me'be he'll hindeh. These heahJap-faced Injuns don't appeah to be much hostyle, an' we betteh lay lowan' get the hang of things fo' a couple of days befo' we go makin' anybreak."
"We'll take _him_ with us," said Connie. "Just think of a white manliving up here for six years!"
"We sho' will!" agreed Waseche. "I hope them heathens ain't cleaned outCarlson's camp. Raw fish an' blubber don't sound good to me--theah'ssome things a man don't _want_ to get use' to. Heah we ah; we got tohold ouh nehve, an' keep ouh eyes open."
"How man-ny cans av nuggits did ye say?" interrupted O'Brien, as heovertook them at the rise of the trail. "They're heavy."
"Why, they're all men!" exclaimed Connie, as they reached the spot wherethe entire village stood grouped about the sleds.
"Indade, an' they ain't!" refuted O'Brien. "They's fifty-seven av um alltowld, incloodin' mesilf, an' th' half av us is wimmin--ondly ye can'ttell th' difference nayther in looks nor-r dhress. An' a homlier-r,mor-re ill-favour-red crew niver wuz let be born, bein', near-r as Oikin figger, half Injun, half Eskimo, an' half Chinee--an' they'll atean-nything they kin chaw!"
At the approach of the white men, the Indians drew back, forming a widecircle about the dog-teams. Into this circle steppe
d a very old man, wholeaned heavily upon the shaft of his harpoon and blinked his watery,red-rimmed eyes. From the corners of his mouth long tufts of white hairgrew downward until they extended below the angle of his jaw. Thesetufts, stiff with grease, gleamed whitely like the ivory tusks of awalrus. With a palsied arm he motioned to O'Brien, who stepped beforehim and spoke rapidly for several moments in the guttural jargon he hadused on the river. The old man answered and, as he talked, his tongueclicked oddly against his teeth, which were worn to the level of hisgums.
"What ails grandpa?" asked Waseche, when the old man had finished. "Washe sayin' somethin,' oah jest exehcisin' his mouth?"
"Sur-re, that's Metlutak, the owld chayfe; he's give over his job mostlyto Annunduk, yondher, wid th' black fox shawl, but on mathers avimpoortance th' owld wan has his say."
"I didn't get the drift of his ahgument--I neveh leahnt no blue jay."
"He says," began O'Brien, with a broad grin, "he says ye're welcome intothe thribe. He'll set th' young min buildin' an _igloo_, an' he's gladye've got so man-ny dogs f'r 'tis two moons befoor th' caribou move, an'th' fresh mayte will tasht good afther a winther av fish an' blubber."
"With a palsied arm he motioned to O'Brien, who steppedbefore him."]
"Meat!" exclaimed Connie, with flashing eyes. "Does he think he's goingto eat those dogs?"
"Ye don't see no dogs in th' village, do yez? An' nayther they ain't binexcipt th' six they shtole off Car-rlson an' Pete Mateese--an' they wasinto th' bilin' pot befoor they quit kickin'."
"Well, you can tell him he don't get any of these dogs to eat! And ifany one lays a hand on a dog, I'll--I'll knock his block off!"
"Now, hold on, son," cautioned Waseche Bill, with his hand upon theboy's shoulder. "We got to kind of take it easy. This heah ain't no timefo' an uprisin' of the whites--the odds ain't right." He turned to theIrishman:
"O'Brien, yo' want to get out of this heah country, don't yo'?"
"Sur-re, an' Oi do!" eagerly exclaimed the man. "But, ut's six yearsOi've throied ut, an' nar-ry a wanst hav' Oi done ut. Av ye kin make ut,Oi'm wid yez--but, av we don't save th' dogs, we'll niver do ut. They'regood thrailers, th' punkin faced ejits, an' they've br-rung me backtwinty-wan toimes, be th' clock. Car-rlson an' Pete Mateese had dogs,an' they got away."
"We-all can make it! Don't yo' worry none. I be'n in tight fixes befo'.Jest yo' listen to me, an' stall the ol' boy off fo' a day oah two.That'll give us a chanst to make medicine." O'Brien turned to the oldwalrus-faced shaman and there followed a half-hour of livelyconversation, at the end of which the man reported to Waseche:
"They're gr-reat hands f'r to hav' dances, ut's par-rt av their haythenreligion--that is, they call um dances, an' ut shtar-rts in thatway--but ut woinds up loike a Donnybrook fair. 'Tis gr-rand fun--widhar-rpoon shafts cr-rackin' down on heads loike quarther-staves; f'rbarrin' pick handles, wan av thim har-rpoons is th' besht club, nixt toa black thor-rn shelala, f'r a foight amongst frinds, an-ny day in th'wake.
"Oi towld um th' dogs wuz skin-poor fr-rom th' long thrail, an' not fitf'r to ate, but a couple av days wid plinty av fish in their bellies,would fat um up loike a young seal.
"'We'll have a big _potlatch_,' says he. 'We've more fish thin we nayde.Feed up th' dogs,' says he, 'an' in two shlapes, we'll hav' th' biggest_potlatch_ in th' histhry av th' thribe. We'll dance all night, f'r Oi'mgittin' owld,' says he, 'an' ut may be me lasht.' Oi hope so, thinks Oi,but Oi don't say so. An-nyhow, we kin resht airy f'r a couple av daysan' th' dogs'll be safe an' well fed. 'Twud be all a man's loife wuzwor-rth to har-rm wan till th' owld man gives th' wor-rd. Ye said ut wuzraylly hot in Flor-ridy, b'y? Hot enough, d'ye think, that a felly c'dset ar-round in his shir'rt shlaves, an' shmoke a bit av an avenin'?"
O'Brien offered to share his _igloo_ with Connie and Waseche Bill, butthey declined with thanks after one look into the smoky interior thatfairly reeked with the stench of rancid blubber and raw skin bedding.
Hardly had the dogs been unharnessed before four Indians appeared withhuge armfuls of frozen fish, and while the gaunt _malamutes_ gnawedravenously at the food, the whole village looked on, men and womenlicking their chops in anticipation of the coming _potlatch_, pointingout the choicest of the dogs, and gesticulating and jabbering over thedivision of the spoils.
The light shelter tent, robes, and sleeping bags were removed from thesleds, and O'Brien offered to help.
"Set ut up clost ag'in' th' _igloo_," he said, "an' Oi'll tunnel a holet'rough th' soide, an' tonight we kin lay an' plot loike Fenians, an'th' ar-risthocracy here'll think we're sound ashlape dhreamin' av_malamute_ mulligan, an' dog's liver fried in ile."
The tent was quickly set up and Connie was about to loosen the lashingsof the grub pack.
"How much grub hav' ye got?" asked the Irishman.
"We got a right smaht of grub, except fo' th' dawgs," answered Waseche.
"Don't uncover ut, thin," warned O'Brien. "Jist tilt yer tarp a bit an'pull out enough f'r th' suppher. They won't bother-r th' outfitnone--th' owld man towld um to lave hands off an' they'd divide thewhole shebang afther th' dance."
"Yo' don't say," drawled Waseche. "Grandpa's a generous heahted ol'pahty, ain't he! D'yo' reckon we-all w'd be in on th' divvy, oah do wejest furnish the outfit?"
O'Brien grinned:
"Ye'd fare same as th' rist," he said. "Sharre an' shar-re aloike is th'rule here. Sur-re, they're socialists--ondly they don't know ut."
"Yo' say they won't let yo' get away from heah? What do they want ofyo'--an' what do they want of us? Afteh they've et the dawgs an' dividedthe outfit, looks like they'd be glad to get rid of us."
O'Brien filled his pipe and noisily blew great clouds of smoke into theair:
"'Tis a thing Oi've niver found out. Six years Oi've bin hiltpr-risoner. They've thrayted me same as theirsilves. Oi do no mor-rewor-rk thin an-ny man av thim, an' av they're glutted wid grub so'm Oi,an' av they're hungr-ry, Oi'm hungr-ry, too. Near-r as Oi kin make outOi'm jist a kapesake--loike ye're grandfayther's swor-rd, or a canary."
"How did Carlson an' Pete Mateese get away?"
"Sur-re, they niver wuz caught! They got to the Ignatook; that's phwatthese haythen call th' creek av th' bilin' wather--an' they fear-r ut.Niver a man av thim will go into ut's valley. They say ut'sdivil-ha'nted. Th' wather's black an' bilin'--an' ut stinks. Ut's pizen,too; av ye dhrink ut ye'll die. They's a pile av bones, an' man-ny askull ar-round th' owld copper mine. 'Twuz wan av thim Oi shlipped intoth' rock cairn, back yondher, hopin' to warn th' fur-rst av th'shtampede to wait f'r th' rist, phwin th' Injuns robbed th' _cache_.
"Av we kin git to th' Ignatook wid th' dogs, we're safe. Oi've hid therea dozen toimes, but Oi niver c'd make th' outside f'r lack av dogs.They's sixteen hunder' pounds av caribou mate in th' tunnel, an' sixtypercers av fish.
"They've an eye on us, an' Oi'm fear-red they'll misthrust we'replottin'. Wait till tonight, an' Oi'll go now an' make up a fairyshtor-ry that'll satisfy th' owld chayfe about our long palaver-r."
O'Brien started toward the old shaman, but turned and retraced hissteps:
"How man-ny quar-rts av nuggits did ye say?" he asked, as a far-awaylook crept into his eyes. Waseche Bill answered softly:
"I don't rightly know what nuggets is fetchin' a quaht. But, offhand,I'd say a quaht oah two w'd be a plenty to take yo' clean around thewohld."