CHAPTER XXIV CAMP FOLLOWERS
It was just as Marian was tightening the ropes to the pack on her sledthat, happening to glance away at a distant hill, she was reminded ofPatsy's latest story of the purple flame. From the crest of that hillthere came a purple flare of light. Quickly as it had come, just soquickly it vanished, leaving the hill a faint outline against the sky.
"The purple flame," she breathed. "I wonder if we can leave thosemysterious camp-followers of ours behind?"
On the instant a disturbing thought flashed through her mind. It causedan indignant flash of color to rise to her cheek.
"I wonder," she said slowly, "if those mysterious people are spies set byBill Scarberry to dog our tracks?"
"They may start with us," she smiled to herself, as she at last dismissedthe subject from her mind, "but unless they really are Bill Scarberry'sspies and set to watch us, they'll never finish with us. Camp-followersdon't follow over five hundred miles of wild trail. They're not that fondof hard marching."
In this conclusion she was partly wrong.
Just as the sun was painting the distant mountain peaks with a gleam ofgold, the collies began to bark and the broad herd of reindeer movedslowly forward. Marian and Patsy touched their deer gently with thereins, and they were away.
It was with a distinct feeling of homesickness that Marian turned to lookback at the campsite. She had spent many happy hours there. Now she wasleaving it, perhaps forever. What was more, she was leaving the tundra;the broad-stretching deer pastures of the Arctics. Should theirenterprise succeed, she would pass over one of the Canadian trails,southward to the States and back to the University. Should they fail, shemight indeed return to the tundra, but she knew it could never be thesame to her.
"We must not fail," she told herself, clenching her hands tight andstaring away at the magnificent panorama which lay before her. "We mustnot! Must not fail!"
As she saw the reindeer, a mass of brown and white moving down the slope,a feeling of sadness swept over her. She had come to love these gentleand half-wild creatures of the North. She was especially fond of thesled-deer, her three; the spotted one, the brown one, and the white. Manyhundred miles had she driven them. Nowhere in the world, she was sure,could there be deer who covered more miles in a day, who were quicker torecognize the pull of rein, more willing to stomp the tiresome nightsaway at the ends of their tethers.
Dearest of all were the three collie dogs; Gold, Copper and Bronze, shewhimsically named them, for their coats were just what their namesindicated. Copper and Bronze were young dogs. Gold was the pick of thethree; an old, well-trained sheep dog. Accustomed to the sunny pasturesof California, he had been brought to this cold and barren land to herdreindeer. With the sturdy devotion of his kind, he had endured the bitingcold without a whimper, and had gnawed his toes, cut by the crusted snow,in silence. He had done the work assigned to him with a zeal andthoroughness that might have shamed many a human master.
"These, too, I must leave," she told herself. "Worse than that, I amleading them out into wild desert. Within a week that beautiful herd maybe hopelessly scattered; our sled-deers killed by wolves; our dogs--well,anyway, they will never desert us. Together we will fight it out to thebitter end."
A lump came into her throat. Then, realizing that she was the commanderof this expedition and that it was unbecoming of commanders to betrayemotion, she quickly conquered her feelings and gave herself over to thework of assisting in keeping the herd moving steadily forward in acompact mass.
Five days later, with their herd still moving steadily on before them,and with hopes rising high because of the continued success of theirmarch, they found themselves crossing a succession of low-lying,grass-covered hills. As they reached the crest of the highest of these,and arrived at a place where they could get an unrestricted view of thetundra that lay beyond, an exclamation escaped Marian's lips.
"A forest!" she exclaimed.
"A real Arctic forest," echoed Patsy. "Won't it be wonderful!"
"Wonderful and dangerous," Marian replied. "Unless I miss my guess, hereis where our troubles begin. It may not be so bad, though," she quicklyamended, as she saw the look of fear that came over her cousin's face."That forest is fully ten miles away. The sun is about to set. We'lldrive our herd down into the tundra where there is plenty of moss. We'llcamp there, and get up for an early start in the morning. The forest maybe only a narrow belt along a river."
Marian did not feel very sure that her predictions would prove true, butshe was the sort of person who measures all perils carefully, then hopesfor the best.
Two hours later they were eating a meal of reindeer stew and hotbiscuits, which had been cooked over a willow-wood fire in their Yukonstove. Then as they chatted of the future, Marian held up a finger forsilence.
"What was that?" she whispered. "A shot?"
"I didn't--"
"Yes, yes. There's another!"
Marian was up and out of the tent in an instant.
As her eyes swept the horizon they caught a gleam of light from the hillsabove, the red and yellow light of a camp-fire.
With one sweeping glance she took in the position of her herd. She hadjust noted that a certain brown deer had strayed some distance up thehill. She was about to suggest to Terogloona, who had also been calledfrom his tent by the shots, that he send a dog after the deer, when, toher great astonishment, she caught a flash of light, heard a sharpreport, then saw the brown deer crumple up like an empty sack and drop tothe snow.
For one instant she stood there as if in a trance, then with a quick turnshe said:
"Patsy, you stay with Attatak. Terogloona, you come with me."
Turning, she walked straight toward the spot where the reindeer hadfallen. The faithful Terogloona, in spite of his fear of the Indians ofthe Little Sticks, followed at her heels.
When they arrived at the spot, they found a man bending over the deaddeer. In his hand was the rifle that had sped the bullet. The soft-soled"muck-lucks" that Marian and Terogloona wore made no sound on the snow.The man's back was toward them and they came upon him unobserved. Thepowerful Terogloona would have leaped upon his back and thrown him to thesnow, but Marian held him back.
"Stranger," said the girl, in as steady a voice as she could, "why didyou kill our deer?"
Like a flash the man gripped his rifle as he wheeled about. Then, seeingit was a girl who spoke, he lowered his weapon.
Marian's eyes took him in with one feeling glance. His face was haggard,emaciated. His hands were mere skin and bones. He was an Indian.
"Too hungry," he murmured, "No come caribou. No come ptarmigan. No fishin the river; no rabbits on the tundra!" He spread out his bony hands ina gesture of despair.
"But you needn't have killed him. Had you come to us we would have givenyou meat, all you could use." The girl's face was frank and fearless, yetthere was a certain huskiness in her voice that to the sensitive ears ofthe Indian betokened kindness.
"Yes," he said slowly, "maybe you would. Yesterday we saw other reindeerherd, north mebby ten miles. Want deer; ask man, big man, much whiskers;say want food. Man said: 'Get out!' Want'a kill me if I not go quick. Badman, that one. We go way. Then see your herd. Say, take one deer. Youwant to fight, then fight. Better to die by bullet than by hunger."
"The man you saw," said Marian, her heart sinking as she realized that hemust be a half day in the lead, "was Bill Scarberry. Yes, he is a meanman. But see! Have you a cache? Some place where you can keep meat fromthe wolves and wolverines?"
"Yes, yes!" exclaimed the Indian eagerly. "Ten miles. Diesa River, acabin."
"How many deer must you have to keep you until game comes?"
"Mebby--mebby," the Indian stared at her in astonishment, "Mebby two,mebby three."
"All right," said Marian, "you have killed a fine doe. That was bad, butI forgive you." She held our her hand to grasp the native's bony fingers.
"Now," she s
aid briskly, "since you have killed her, you may keep themeat. Terogloona," she turned to the Eskimo, "point out two young bucks,the best we have. Tell him he may kill them and that he and his friendsmay take them to their cabin."
"I--I--" the Indian attempted to speak. Failing utterly, he turned andwalked a few steps away, then turning, struck straight away toward thespot where the red and yellow campfire gleamed.
"That is his camp?" asked Marian.
Terogloona nodded silently.
"They will come for the meat, and will give us no further trouble?"
"_Eh-eh_" smiled the Eskimo. "The daughter of my master has acted wisely.The man who starves, he is different. These reindeer," he waved his armstoward the herd, "they belong to my master and his daughter. When men arenot starving--yes. When men are starving--no. To the starving all thingsbelong. Bill Scarberry, he remember yet. Indians of Little Sticks, theynever forget."
As Marian turned to retrace her steps to camp, she chanced to glance upat the other camp where, but an hour before, she had seen the flash ofthe purple flame. It was closer than she thought. The flash of flame wasgone, but she was sure she caught the outlines of a tent; surer stillthat she saw a solitary figure atop a nearby knoll. Sitting as if onwatch, this solitary man held a rifle across his knees.
"I wonder why he is there?" she said to herself, "I wonder why they arefollowing us?"
"Oh," she breathed as she walked toward camp, "it's so tantalizing, thatpurple flame and all! I have half a notion to take Terogloona, as I didwith that Indian, and march right up to them and demand the meaning oftheir mysterious actions!"
As if intending to turn this thought into action at once, she stopped andturned about. To her surprise, as she looked toward the crest of thehill, she saw the solitary watcher was gone.
"Oh, well," she sighed, "we have no real reason for invading their camp.We've no proof that they've ever done us any harm; except, perhaps thetime that Patsy saw the blood-trail and the antler marks in the snow. Itseems that it must have been our deer, but we never could prove it."
Glancing away at a more distant hill-crest, she was surprised at thepicture revealed there.
The moon, just rising from behind the hill, threw out in bold relief thebroad-spreading antlers of a magnificent creature of the wilderness.
"Old Omnap-puk!" said Marian. "What do you think of that? We havetraveled five days, and yet we are still in the company of the mysteriouscamp-followers of the purple flame and old Omnap-puk, thecaribou-reindeer who has haunted the outskirts of our camp so long.
"I suppose," she said thoughtfully, "that I should tell Terogloona tohave the Indians kill Omnap-puk. That would save one of our reindeers,and besides, if we let him live, who knows but that at some criticalmoment he may rush in and assume the leadership of our herd and lead themto disaster, or lose them to us forever. I have heard of that happeningwith horses and cattle. Why not with reindeer? And yet," she sighed, "Ican't quite make up my mind to do it. He is such a wonderful fellow!"
The time was to come, and that very soon, when she was to rejoice becauseof this decision.