The Walrus Hunters | Page 5

of inhalation. It was successful. He filled
his mouth instead of his lungs, and, in his childlike delight at the
triumph, he opened his mouth to its full extent, and sent forth a cloud
with a gasp which was the combined expression of a puff and a "ho!"
Again he tried it, and was again successful. Overjoyed at this, like a
child with a new toy, he went in for quite a broadside of puffs, looking
round at his friendly foe with a "ho!" between each, and surrounding
his head with an atmosphere of smoke.
Suddenly he stopped, laid down the pipe, rose up, and, looking as if he
had forgotten something, retired into the bush.
The Indian took up the discarded pipe, and for the first time displayed a
few wrinkles about the corners of his eyes as he put it between his lips.
Presently Cheenbuk returned, somewhat paler than before, and sat
down in silence with a look, as if of regret, at the skeleton-goose.
Without any reference to what had passed, the Indian turned to his
companion and said, "Why should the men of the ice fight with the men
of the woods?"
"Why?" asked Cheenbuk, after a few moments' profound meditation,
"why should the men of the woods attack the men of the ice with their
fire-spouters?"
This question seemed to puzzle the Indian so much that he proceeded to
fill another pipe before answering it. Meanwhile the Eskimo, being
more active-minded, continued--
"Is it fair for the men of the woods to come to fight us with
fire-spouters when we have only spears? Meet us with the same
weapons, and then we shall see which are the best men."
The Indian looked at his companion solemnly and shook his head.

"The strongest warriors and the best fighters," he said, "are not always
the best men. He who hunts well, keeps his wives supplied with plenty
of food and deerskin robes, and is kind to his children, is the best man."
Cheenbuk looked suddenly in the face of his sententious companion
with earnest surprise in every feature, for the sentiments which had just
been expressed were in exact accordance with his own. Moreover, they
were not what he expected to hear from the lips of a Dogrib.
"I never liked fighting," he said in a low voice, "though I have always
been able to fight. It does nobody any good, and it always does
everybody much harm, for it loses much blood, and it leaves many
women and children without food-providers--which is uncomfortable
for the men who have enough of women and children of their own to
hunt for. But," continued the youth with emphasis, "I always thought
that the men of the woods loved fighting."
"Some of them do, but I hate it!" said the Indian with a sudden look of
such ferocity that the Eskimo might have been justified in doubting the
truth of the statement.
The flash, however, quickly disappeared, and a double wreath of smoke
issued from his nose as he remarked quietly, "Fighting lost me my
father, my two brothers, and my only son."
"Why, then, do you still come against us with fire-spouters?" asked
Cheenbuk.
"Because my people will have it so," returned the red man. "I do what I
can to stop them, but I am only one, and there are many against me."
"I too have tried to stop my people when they would fight among
themselves," returned the Eskimo in a tone of sympathy; "but it is
easier to kill a walrus single-handed than to turn an angry man from his
purpose."
The Indian nodded assent, as though a chord had been struck which
vibrated in both bosoms.

"My son," he said, in a patronising tone, "do not cease to try. Grey hairs
are beginning to show upon my head; I have seen and learned much,
and I have come to know that only he who tries, and tries, and tries
again to do what he knows is right will succeed. To him the Great
Manitou will give his blessing."
"My father," replied the other, falling in readily with the fictitious
relationship, "I will try."
Having thus come to a satisfactory agreement, this Arctic Peace Society
prepared to adjourn. Each wiped his knife on the grass and sheathed it
as he rose up. Then they shook hands again after the fashion of the
pale-faces, and departed on their respective ways. The red man returned
to the wigwams of his people, while the young Eskimo, descending the
river in his kayak, continued to hunt the white-whale and pursue the
feathered tribes which swarmed in the creeks, rivulets, and marshes that
bordered the ice-encumbered waters of the polar seas.
CHAPTER TWO.
WARUSKEEK.
Alas for the hopes and efforts of good men!