"The deer! The deer! The deer's sinew! Chealuk! Chealuk! Chealuk!

Torngak! The evil spirit is in Chealuk! She must go! Must go! Send Chealuk away! Send her away! Send her away! Send her away!"

Finally from sheer exhaustion he quieted down and came out of his trance. He probably thought that he had given them their value's worth and what they had wanted, and that they should be satisfied.

It was now decreed that, this being the direct command of Torngak, Chealuk must be expelled from the camp. Some even a.s.serted that she should be killed, but the majority decided that as Torngak had said merely that "Chealuk must go" that meant only that she must be sent away. If this did not prove sufficient to counteract their ill luck, why she could, after a reasonable time, be sought out and dispatched, if she had not in the meantime perished.

The feeble old woman heard it all with outward stoic indifference. It was a part of her religion and she probably thought the punishment quite just, and whatever shrinking of spirit she felt, she hid it heroically from the others. To have been killed immediately would have been more humane than banishment, for the latter only meant a slower but just as sure a death, from exposure and starvation.

To Bob, who had listened intently and was able to grasp the situation in a general way, it seemed heartless in the extreme; but his protests would not only have been powerless to move the Eskimos from their purpose, but in all probability would have worked harm for himself and to no avail. These people that at first had seemed so amiable and hospitable, and almost childlike in their nature, had been by their heathen superst.i.tions suddenly transformed into cruel, unsympathetic savages.

"Oh," thought Bob, "if I had but heeded Sishetakushin's warning!"

But it was too late now to repent of the course he had taken and he had only to abide by it. It seemed to him that his own life hung by a mere thread and that at any moment some fancy might strike them to sacrifice him too. He had indeed but barely escaped Chealuk's fate, and the next time he might not be so fortunate.

In this disturbed state of mind he withdrew from the igloos and climbed the hill, where he stood and gazed longingly at the mainland hills to the southward, wondering where, beyond those cold, white ranges, lay Wolf Bight and his little cabin home, warm and clean and tidy, and whether his mother and father and Emily thought him safe or had heard of his disappearance and were mourning him as dead. And here he was far, far away in the north and hopelessly--apparently--stranded upon a desolate island from which he would probably never escape and never see them again.

Oh, how lonely and disconsolate he felt. Every day since he left home he had prayed G.o.d to keep the loved ones safe and to take him back to them.

"I hopes they're safe an' Emily's better, but th' Lard's been losin'

track o' me," he said to himself with a wavering faith.

"But th' Lard took me safe t' Ungava, an' He must be watchin' me," he exclaimed after further thought. "An' He's been rare good t' me."

Then like a bulwark to lean against there came to him the words of his mother as they parted that beautiful September morning:

"Don't forget your prayers, lad, an' remember your mother's prayin'

for you every night an' every mornin'."

And Emily had said, too, that she would ask G.o.d every night to keep him safe. This brought him a renewal of his faith and he argued,

"Th' Lard'll sure not be denyin' mother an' Emily, an' they askin' He every day t' bring me back. He sure would not be denyin' they for He knows how bad 'twould be makin' they feel if I were not comin' home.

An' He wouldn't be wantin' _that_, for they never does nothin' t' make He cross with un."

This thought comforted him and he said confidently to himself,

"Th' Lard'll be showin' th' way when th' right time comes an' I'll try t' bide content till then."

But there was little in the surroundings to warrant Bob's faith.

Looking about him from the hilltop he could see nothing but open sea around the island with an expanse of desolation beyond--snow, snow everywhere, from the water's edge to where the rugged mountains to the south and east held their cold heads into the gray clouds that hid the sky and sun. The sea was sombre and black. Not a breath of air stirred, not a sound broke the silence, and it seemed almost as though Nature in anxious suspense watched the outcome of it all. But Bob's faith was renewed--the simple, childlike faith of his people--and he felt better and more content with himself and his fortune.

It was growing dusk when he returned to the igloos. As he descended the hill a flake of snow struck his face and it was followed by others. A breath of wind like a blast from a bellows swirled the flakes abroad. The elements were awakening.

In the igloos Akonuk and Matuk were brewing tea for supper and the three ate in silence.

Bob asked once,

"What's to be done with Chealuk?"

"Nothing," they answered laconically.

This relieved the anxiety he felt for her, and he crawled into his sleeping bag and went to sleep, thinking that after all the judgment of the Angakok was a mere form, not to be executed literally.

After some hours Bob awoke. The wind was blowing a gale outside. He could hear it quite distinctly. From what direction it came he could not tell, and after lying awake for a long while he decided to arise and see.

When he removed the block of snow from the igloo entrance and crawled outside he was all but smothered by the swirling snow of a terrific, raging blizzard. He turned his back to the blast, and realized that it came from the north-east. The cold was piercing and awful. The elements which had been held in subjection for so long were unleashed and were venting themselves with all the untamed fury of the North upon the world.

As he turned to reenter the igloo an apparition brushed past him rushing off into the night.

"Who is it?" he shouted.

But the wind brought back no answer and overcome with a feeling of trepidation and a sense of impending tragedy, half believing that he had seen a ghost, he crawled back to his cover and warm sleeping bag to wonder.

There was no cessation in the storm or change in the conditions the next day. In the morning while they were drinking their hot tea Bob told Akonuk and Matuk of the apparition he had seen in the night.

"That," they said in awe, "was the spirit of Torngak," and Bob was duly impressed.

Upon a visit later to the other igloos he missed Chealuk. She had always sat in one corner plying her needle, and had always had a word for him when he came in to pay a visit. Her absence was therefore noticeable and Bob asked one of the Eskimos where she was.

"Gone," said the Eskimo.

And this was all he could learn from them. Poor old Chealuk had been sent away, and it must have been she, then, that he had seen in the darkness.

That night Bob was aroused again, and he immediately realized that something of moment had occurred. Akonuk and Matuk were awake and talking excitedly, and through the shrieking of the gale outside came a distinct and unusual sound. It was like the roar of distant thunder, but still it was not thunder. He sat up sharply to learn the meaning of it all.

XXI

ADRIFT ON THE ICE

The unusual sound that Bob heard was the pounding of ice driven by the mighty force of wind and tide against the island rocks. This the Eskimos verified with many exclamations of delight. The hoped for had happened and release from their imprisonment was at hand. Bob thanked G.o.d for remembering them.

"I were thinkin' th' Lard would not be losin' sight o' me now He's been so watchful in all th' other times I were needin' help," said he as he lay down.

To the Eskimos it was a proof of the efficacy of the appeal to the Angakok.

During the next day the high wind and snow continued until dusk. Then the weather began to calm and before morning the sky was clear and the stars shining cold and brilliant, and the sun rose clear and beautiful. Kangeva Bay, a solid held of ice again, as it was when Bob first saw it, stretched away unbroken and white to the northward.

No time was lost in making preparations for their escape. The komatiks were packed at once with the camp goods and the little food that still remained, the dogs were harnessed and a quick march took them safely to the mainland.

Here the Eskimos had an ample cache of seal and walrus meat killed earlier in the season. New igloos were built, as the old ones in use before they transferred to the island were not considered comfortable, the previous occupancy having softened the interior snow, which was now encrusted with a thin glaze of ice and this glaze prevented a free circulation of air.

Bob wanted to go on without delay but Akonuk and Matuk had found none of the Eskimos willing to proceed with him. It was therefore necessary for them to go with him until another camp was reached, and they insisted upon delaying the start a day in order as they said to give the dogs a good feed and get them in better shape for the journey, as they for some time had been fed only each alternate day instead of every day as was customary, and even then had received but half their usual portion. This seemed quite reasonable, but when Bob saw his friends a little later consuming raw seal meat themselves in enormous quant.i.ties, he concluded that the dogs were not the only object of their consideration.

They were still busily engaged arranging their new quarters when one of the Eskimos called the attention of the others to a black object far out upon the ice in the direction from which they had come. Slowly it tottered towards them and in a little while it was made out to be old Chealuk, who had been in hiding somewhere on the island. The poor old woman, nearly starved and with frozen hands and feet, was barely able to drag herself into camp. Some of the men protested against receiving her but she was finally permitted to enter the igloos and take up her old place, though with the understanding that she should leave again immediately at the first indication of Torngak's displeasure.