A Bear-Hunt and a Sad End.

The Indian chief was after this an object of almost veneration to the Eskimo men, of admiration to the women, and of delight to the boys and girls, who highly appreciated his kindly disposition as well as his skill with the spouter.

He was taken out on all their hunting expeditions, and fully initiated into all the mysteries of seals, walrus, deer, and musk-ox killing. Of course the wonderful gun was brought into frequent requisition, but its owner was obliged to have regard to his powder and shot, and had to explain that without these the spouter would refuse to spout, and all its powers would vanish. When this was thoroughly understood, his hosts ceased to persecute him with regard to displays of his skill.

One day, in the dead of the long winter, Cheenbuk proposed to Nazinred to go on a hunt after bears. The latter declined, on the ground that he had already arranged to go with Mangivik to watch at a seal-hole. Cheenbuk therefore resolved to take Anteek with him instead. Gartok was present when the expedition was projected, and offered to accompany it.

“I fear you are not yet strong enough,” said Cheenbuk, whose objection, however, was delivered in pleasant tones,—for a change for the better had been gradually taking place in Gartok since the date of his wound, and his old opponent not only felt nothing of his ancient enmity towards him, but experienced a growing sensation of pity,—for the once fire-eating Eskimo did not seem to recover health after the injury he had received from the Fire-spouter’s bullet.

“I am not yet stout enough to fight the bears,” he said with a half-sad look, “but I am stout enough to look on, and perhaps the sight of it might stir up my blood and make me feel stronger.”

Old Mangivik, who was sitting close by, heaved a deep sigh at this point. Doubtless the poor man was thinking of his own strength in other days—days of vigour which had departed for ever—at least in this life; yet the old man’s hopes in regard to the life to come were pretty strong, though not well defined.

“Well, you may come,” said Cheenbuk, as he rose and went out with Anteek to harness the dogs.

In less than half an hour they were careering over the ice in the direction of a bay in the land where fresh bear-tracks had been seen the day before.

The bay was a deep one, extending four or five miles up into the interior of the island.

We have assumed that the land in question was an island because of its being in the neighbourhood of a large cluster of islands which varied very considerably in size; but there is no certainty as to this, for the region was then, and still is, very imperfectly known. Indeed, it is still a matter of dispute among geographers, we believe, whether continents or seas lie between that part of the coast of America and the North Pole.

As far as appearance went the land might have been the edge of a vast continent, for the valley up which the Eskimos were driving extended inwards and upwards until it was lost in a region where eternal glaciers mingled with the clouds, or reared their grey ridges against the dark winter sky. It was a scene of cold, wild magnificence and desolation, which might have produced awe in the hearts of civilised men, though of course it must have seemed commonplace and tame enough to natives who had never seen anything much softer or less imposing.

The party had travelled about four miles up the valley, and reached a steep part, which was trying to the mettle of the dogs, when a track was observed a short distance to their right.

“Bear,” said Gartok in a low voice, pointing towards it.

Cheenbuk made no reply, but at once ran the team under the shelter of a neighbouring cliff and pulled up. The dogs were only too glad to obey the order to halt, and immediately lay down, panting, with their tongues out.

Fastening the sledge to a rock, and leaving it in charge of a little boy who had been brought for the purpose, the other three set off to examine the track and reconnoitre; intending, if they had reason to believe the bear was near, to return for the dogs and attack it in force.

The track was found to be quite fresh. It led upwards in the direction of a neighbouring ridge, and towards this the party hastened. On reaching the summit they bent low and advanced after the manner of men who expected to see something on the other side. Then they dropped on hands and knees, and crawled cautiously, craning their necks every now and then to see what lay beyond.

Now, the little boy who had been left in charge of the sledge happened to be a presumptuous little boy. He was not a bad boy, by any means. He did not refuse to obey father, or mother, or anybody else that claimed a right to command, and he was not sly or double-tongued, but he was afflicted with that very evil quality, presumption: he thought that he knew how to manage things better than anybody else, and, if not actually ordered to let things remain as they were, he was apt to go in for experimental changes on his own account.

When, therefore, he was left in charge of the dogs, with no particular direction to do or to refrain from doing anything, he found himself in the condition of being dissatisfied with the position in which the team was fastened, and at once resolved to change it only a few yards farther to the right, near to a sheltering cliff.

With this end in view he untied the cord that held the sledge, and made the usual request, in an authoritative voice, that the team would move on. The team began to obey, but, on feeling themselves free, and the sledge light, they proceeded to the left instead of the right, and, despite the agonising remonstrances of the little boy, began to trot. Then, appreciating doubtless the Eskimo version of “Home, sweet Home,” they suddenly went off down-hill at full gallop.

The presumptuous one, puckering his face, was about to vent his dismay in a lamentable yell, when it suddenly occurred to him that he might thereby disturb the hunters and earn a severe flogging. He therefore restrained himself, and sat down to indulge in silent sorrow.

Meanwhile the explorers topped the ridge, and, peeping over, saw a large white bear not more than a hundred yards off, sitting on its haunches, engaged, apparently, in contemplation of the scenery.

At this critical moment they heard a noise behind them, and, glancing back, beheld their dogs careering homeward, with the empty sledge swinging wildly in the rear. Cheenbuk looked at Gartok, and then both looked at the bear. Apparently the ridge prevented the distant sound from reaching it, for it did not move.

“We must go at it alone—without dogs,” said Gartok, grasping his spear, while a flash of the old fire gleamed in his eyes.

“You must not try,” said Cheenbuk; “the drive here has already tired you out. Anteek will do it with me. This is not the first time that we have hunted together.”

The boy said nothing, but regarded his friend with a look of gratified pride, while he grasped his spear more firmly.

“Good,” returned Gartok, in a resigned tone; “I will stand by to help if there is need.”

Nothing more was said, but Cheenbuk looked at Anteek and gave the brief order—

“Go!”

The boy knew well what to do. Grasping his spear, he ran out alone towards the bear and flourished it aloft. Turning with apparent surprise, the animal showed no sign of fear at the challenge of such an insignificant foe. It faced him, however, and seemed to await his onset. The boy moved towards the right side of the bear. At the same time Cheenbuk ran forward towards its left side, while Gartok went straight towards it at a slow walk, by way of further distracting its attention.

As the three hunters approached from different directions, their prey seemed a good deal disconcerted, and looked from one to the other as if undecided how to act. When they came close up the indecision became more pronounced, and it rose on its hind-legs ready to defend itself. Gartok now halted when within five or six yards of the animal, which was anxiously turning its head from side to side, while the other two ran close up.

The plan was that usually followed by Eskimos in similar circumstances. Anteek’s duty was to run forward and prick the bear on its right side, so as to draw its undivided attention on himself, thereby leaving its left side unguarded for the deadly thrust of Cheenbuk. Of course this is never attempted by men who are not quite sure of their courage and powers. But Cheenbuk and Anteek knew each other well. The latter was not, perhaps, quite strong enough to give the death-dealing thrust, but he had plenty of courage, and knew well how to administer the deceptive poke.

As for Gartok, besides being incapable of any great exertion, he would not on any account have robbed the boy of the honour of doing his work without help. He merely stood there as a spectator.

With active spring Anteek went close in and delivered his thrust.

The bear uttered a savage roar and at once turned on him. Just at the moment the boy’s foot slipped and he fell close to the animal’s feet. In the same instant the two men sprang forward. Cheenbuk’s spear entered the bear’s heart, and that of Gartok struck its breast. But the thrust of the latter was feeble. In his excitement and weakness Gartok fell, and the dying bear fell upon him. His action, however, saved Anteek, who rolled out of the way just as his preserver fell.

Cheenbuk and Anteek did not hesitate, but, regardless of the few death-struggles that followed, rushed in, and grasping its thick hair dragged the monster off the fallen man.

Gartok was insensible, and it was a considerable time before he fully recovered consciousness. Then it was found that he could not rise, and that the slightest motion gave him intolerable pain.

“He will die!” exclaimed Anteek, with a look of painful anxiety.

“............