Kick-Ball and an Important Meeting.

We beg the reader now to accompany us to the Eskimo village, where the men and boys are having a game at kick-ball, a favourite game with those men-of-the-ice, which goes far to prove their kinship with ourselves.

But the details of the game are dissimilar in many ways—only the spirit is the same; namely, an effort to rouse the bodily system to as near the bursting-point as possible without an absolute explosion.

It was a lovely northern night. There was a clearness in the still frosty air which gave to the starry host a vivid luminosity, and seemed to reveal an infinite variety of deep distances instead of the usual aspect of bright spots on a black surface. Besides the light they shed, the aurora was shooting up into the zenith with a brilliancy that almost equalled that of moonlight, and with a vigour that made the beholder think there was a rustling sound. Indeed, some of the natives stoutly asserted that these lights did rustle—but among Eskimos, as among ourselves, there are highly imaginative people.

Oolalik was there of course. No game was thought complete without the co-operation of that robust Eskimo. So was Raventik, for the game of kick-ball suited his bold reckless nature to perfection, and there were none of the other players except himself capable of opposing Oolalik with any hope of success. Aglootook the magician also took part. The dignity of his office did not forbid his condescending to the frivolities of recreative amusement. Gartok was also there, but, alas! only as a spectator, for his wound was not sufficiently healed to permit of his engaging in any active or violent work. His fellow-sufferer Ondikik sat beside him. He, poor man, was in a worse case, for the bullet which was in him kept the wound open and drained away his strength. He was wrapped in a white bearskin, being unable to withstand the cold.

The whole male population, except the old men and the wounded, took part in the game, for the ball frequently bounded to the outskirts of the ice-field, where the boys of every shape and size had as good a chance of a kick as the men. As the women stood about in all directions looking on, and sending back the ball when it chanced to be kicked out of bounds, it may be said to have been an exceedingly sociable game.

Old Mangivik took great interest, though no part, in it, and Mrs M was not a whit behind him in enthusiastic applause whenever a good kick was given. Of course the fair Nootka was beside them, for—was not Oolalik one of the players? She would have scorned the insinuation that that was the reason. Nevertheless there is reason to believe that that had something to do with her presence.

Our friend Adolay, however, was not there. The absence of Cheenbuk may have had something to do with her absence, but, as she was seated in Mangivik’s igloe moping over the lamp, it is more charitable to suppose that a longing for home—sweet home—was weighing down her spirits.

Old and young Uleeta were looking on with great delight, so was Cowlik the easy-going, and Rinka the sympathetic; and it was noticeable that, every now and then, the latter distracted her mind from the play in order to see that the bearskin did not slip off the shoulders of Ondikik, and to replace it if it did. Not that Rinka had any special regard for Ondikik, but it afforded her intense pleasure merely to relieve suffering in any way—so strong was the weakness for which she got credit!

The game had lasted for a considerable time, and the players were beginning to blow hard, when the ball, kicked by a surprisingly small boy in disproportionately big seal-skin boots, chanced to fall between Raventik and Oolalik.

“Oh!” exclaimed Nootka to herself, with a gasp of hope.

“Ho!” exclaimed Oolalik, with a shout of determination.

Raventik exclaimed nothing, but both young men rushed at the ball with furious vigour. The active Oolalik reached it first.

“Ah!” sighed Nootka with satisfaction.

“Hoh!” cried Oolalik, with a kick so full of energy that it would have sent the ball far over a neighbouring iceberg, if it had not been stopped dead by the broad face of Raventik, who went flat on his back in consequence—either from the tremendous force of the concussion, or because of a slip of the foot, or both.

This incident was received with shouts of laughter and great applause, while Raventik sprang to his feet. Instead of taking it in good part, however, the reckless man allowed his temper to get the better of him, and made a rush at Oolalik, who, being naturally peaceful in temperament, dodged his adversary, and, with a laugh, ran away from him; but the other was not to be baulked in this way. A fight he was bent on, so he gave chase at the top of his speed. The man of peace, however, was too fleet for him. He kept just out of his reach, thereby stimulating his rage and inducing many a “spurt” which proved abortive. At last, being desirous of putting an end to the chase—or himself losing patience, who knows?—Oolalik suddenly dropped on his hands and knees, and Raventik, plunging headlong over him, fell flat on his breast and went scooting over the ice for about ten or fifteen yards before he could stop himself. What would have happened after that no one can tell, for just then the attention of the whole party was diverted by a shout in the distance, accompanied by the cracking of a whip and the usual sounds that announced an arrival.

A few seconds later and Cheenbuk drove his team into the village.

He had warned Anteek to say nothing about the finding of the Indian, and the boy had been faithful to his trust, so that the whole population was thrown into a state of wide-eyed amazement, not to mention excitement, when the tall form of the Fire-spouter was seen to rise from the sledge and turn his grave countenance upon them with the calm dignity characteristic of his race. The dogs of the village showed not only surprise, but also their teeth, on observing Attim among the newcomers, and they made for him, but a well-directed and sweeping cut from the whip of the watchful Anteek scattered them right and left, and rebuked their inhospitality.

Thereafter Cheenbuk began to tell how he had discovered the Indian on the ice, and introduced the subject with some prolixity, like not a few white men when they have a good story to tell. Moreover, the wily man had an eye to dramatic effect, and, observing that Adolay was no............