by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER XI
WHEN THE ICEBERG TURNED
But the bear had spent its vitality, and as Bobby sprang nimbly aside itfell at the very spot upon which the young hunter had stood when hedelivered his last shot, struggled a little, gave a gasp or two, anddied. And when Jimmy came running up a moment later Bobby with greatpride was standing by the side of his prostrate victim.
"We got him, Jimmy! We got him!" said he in high glee, touching thecarcass with his toe.
"But, Bobby, what a chance you took!" Jimmy exclaimed. "Supposing youhadn't stopped him!"
"No chance of that at all," declared Bobby in his usual positive tone."All I wanted was time to load, and I knew I'd get him."
"Well, I'm thankful you got him, instead of he getting you, and I wasafraid for a minute he was going to get us both," and Jimmy breathedrelief, as he placed his foot against the dead bear. "My, but he's a bigone! I don't think I ever saw a bigger one!"
"He _is_ a ripper!" admitted Bobby proudly. "Won't the folks be glad!"
And Bobby was justified in his pride. He had fired upon the beast inthe first instance, not through the lust of killing but because he wasprompted to do so by the instinct of the hunter who lives upon theproduct of his weapons. In this far northern land it is the instinct ofself-preservation to kill, for here if man would live he must kill.
In Labrador they butcher wild animals for food just as we butcher steersand sheep and hogs for food, and the only difference is that the wildcreature, matching its instincts and fleetness and strength against thehunter's skill, has a reasonable chance of escape, while our domesticanimals, deprived of liberty, are driven helpless to the slaughter.
In our kindlier clime the rich soil, too, produces vegetables and fruitsupon which we might do very well, if necessary, without ever eatingmeat; but in the bleak land where Bobby and Jimmy lived the summer isshort and the soil is barren, and there are no vegetables, and no fruitssave scattered berries on the inland hillsides. And so it is that heremen must depend upon flesh and fish for their existence and they mustkill if they would live.
Every lad on The Labrador, therefore, is taught from earliest youth totake pride in his profession of hunter and trapper and fisherman--for onThe Labrador every man is a professional hunter and trapper andfisherman--and to strive for skill and the praise of his elders, andBobby was no exception to the rule.
And so it came about that Bobby at the age of thirteen proved himself abold and brave hunter, and standing now over the carcass of his victimhe felt a vast and consistent pride in his success; for it was no smallachievement for a lad of his years to have killed, single-handed andpoorly armed, a full grown polar bear. It was an accomplishment, indeed,in which a grown man and a more experienced hunter than Bobby might havetaken pride; and a grown man could scarcely have employed bettertactics, or shown greater skill and courage, after the first foolhardyshot had been fired.
But this was Bobby's way. It was an exhibition of his old trait ofgetting himself and Jimmy into a scrape and then by quick action andpractical methods getting them safely out of it again.
Skipper Ed and Abel had heard the reports of Bobby's gun, and they knewthat something unusual was on foot. The first shot did not disturb them.That, they knew, was for the seal for which Bobby had taken the gun. Butno self-respecting seal will remain as a target to be fired atrepeatedly, and the shots that followed told their practiced ears thatmore important game than a seal was the object of the fusillade. And so,without parley, each seized his rifle, and together they set out acrossthe island, and thus it happened that presently they came upon Bobby andJimmy admiring the prize.
"Jimmy and I got a bear! A ripping big one, too!" said Bobby as the twomen came up to them, giving Jimmy equal credit, for if he was positive,Bobby was also generous, and wished his friend to share in the glory ofhis triumphs and achievements.
"Bobby got him alone," corrected Jimmy. "I legged it, and if it hadn'tbeen for Bobby he'd have caught me."
"Oh, you know better than that," protested Bobby. "You got in his way,so he'd take after you, and that gave me time to load, and shoot him."
"_Peauke! Peauke!_" exclaimed Abel. "A fine fat bear."
"Good for you, Bobby!" commented Skipper Ed, looking the carcass over."I never killed as big a bear as that myself. Good work!"
"And we'll have some meat now, and won't have to eat just fish allsummer," said Bobby, who had the respect of most healthy boys for hisstomach.
"We'll feast like kings," agreed Skipper Ed. "Flesh as well as fish.Great luck! Great luck! And I'll be bound not another lad of your agecould have got a bear like that with just a shotgun. Why, neither Abelnor I would have tackled him with just a shotgun. No, sir, we wouldn't!"
And Skipper Ed put it to Abel, who declared he never would have risked ashotgun unless he had a spear, also, to protect himself.
Deftly and quickly they skinned and dressed the carcass, wasting no partof the flesh, save the liver, which they fed to the dogs, for, as everyone knows, the liver of the polar bear is poisonous and unfit for humanconsumption.
"I could eat a steak right now," suggested Bobby, when the meat wasstowed.
But there was no time now to cook bear steaks, for a breeze had sprungup and they must needs take advantage of it, and Skipper Ed and Jimmyhad already hoisted sail.
"Never mind," said Abel, "I'll show you! I'll show you!" and with an airof mystery, and chuckling to himself, Abel hurriedly gathered some flatstones which he piled into the boat.
"Now," suggested Abel, when they were at last moving, "you take thetiller, Bobby, and we'll see about the bear steaks."
With much care he proceeded to arrange the stones in the bottom of theboat until presently a very excellent fireplace was built, and soarranged that the boat itself was well protected. No wood save driftwoodwas to be found on Itigailit Island or on the near-by shores, andtherefore both Abel's boat and Skipper Ed's boat had been provided withsufficient firewood to meet the needs of their camp for several days.And so, with fuel at hand, Abel quickly had a cozy fire blazing in hisfireplace and Mrs. Abel, laughing and enjoying the novel experience ofcooking in a boat, had some tea brewing and some bear's steaks sizzlingin the pan in a jiffy.
Skipper Ed's trap boat, though a fine sea craft, was not so fast asailer in a light breeze as Abel's, and though Skipper Ed and Jimmy hadleft the island some little time in advance the boats were now so closethat Abel could make himself heard, and standing in the bow he bawled:
"_Pujolik! Pujolik!_" (A steamer! A steamer!)
A steamship in these waters was uncommon. No steamer had ever come intothe bay, indeed--for they were still in the bay--at least within thememory of man, and eager to see what manner of ship it might be SkipperEd and Jimmy were on their feet in an instant, eagerly searching theeastern horizon.
Abel was immediately convulsed with laughter, and Mrs. Abel laughed, andBobby laughed, and when Skipper Ed and Jimmy, failing to discover thesteamer, or any signs of it, turned inquiringly back toward Abel, stillstanding in the bow, Abel pointed to the smoke rising from the fire, andrepeated:
"_Pujolik! Pujolik_!"
Then Skipper Ed and Jimmy understood, and they laughed too. It was agreat joke, Abel thought, and for an hour afterward he indulged atintervals in quiet chuckles, and even after the two boats had drawnalongside, and tea and fried bear's steaks had been passed to Skipper Edand Jimmy, that they too might share in the feast, Abel laughed.
It was noon the following day when the boats drew up to the old landingplace on Itigailit Island, and an hour later the two tents were pitchedon Abel Zachariah's old camping ground, and everything was as snug andsettled, and they were all as perfectly at home, as though they had beenliving there for months.
Then the dogs in the skiffs were brought ashore and released from theirtwo days' confinement, and Abel's train and Skipper Ed's train, afterthe manner of Eskimo dogs, immediately engaged in a pitched battle. Theybegan by snarling and snapping at one another with ugly, bared
fangs,and then followed a rush toward each other and they became a rolling,tumbling mass of fearsome, fighting creatures, and had to be beatenasunder with stout sticks before they could be induced to settle intotheir quiet and uneventful summer existence.
When all was arranged Bobby, after his custom, walked quietly back tothe cairn which he had built in previous summers to mark the grave ofthe mysterious man that Abel and Mrs. Abel had buried so many yearsbefore, and Jimmy went with him.
"I often wonder," said Bobby, as he replaced some stones that winterstorms had loosed, "who the man was and how he came by his death. Iremember I called him Uncle Robert, but I can't remember much else abouthim, and that is like a dream."
"I wonder if he really was your uncle?" suggested Jimmy.
"I don't know," said Bobby. "I try to remember, until my head isspinning with it, and sometimes it seems as though I am going toremember what happened away back there. It's just as though I had livedbefore, and I think of bright lights, and beautiful things, andwonderful people. I wonder if Father and Mother are right, and what Iremember is heaven? Do you think so, Jimmy?"
"I--I wonder, now!" Jimmy's voice was filled with awe. "Maybe you didcome from heaven, Bobby!"
"I don't believe so," and Bobby was practical again. "I don't feel asthough I'd ever been an angel, and I don't look it, do I?"
And he squared his shoulders and laughed his good-natured, infectiouslaugh, in which Jimmy joined, and the two returned to camp.
There was no floe ice on the coast now, but the sea was dotted with manyicebergs, children of the great northern glaciers, drifting southward onthe Arctic current. Some of them were small and insignificant. Otherstowered in massive majesty and grandeur high above the sea, miniaturemountains of ice. Some were of solid white, but the greater part of themreflected marvelous blues and greens and were a riot of beautiful color.
One of the smaller icebergs lying a half mile or so from ItigailitIsland attracted Bobby's attention as he and Jimmy walked back from thecairn.
"See that berg, Jimmy?" he asked.
"The little one close in?"
"Yes. Do you know, I've got an idea. That bear meat won't keep longunless we pack it in ice or salt it, and I'd rather have it fresh thansalted, wouldn't you?"
"Of course I would!" said Jimmy.
"Then let's take your skiff--it's bigger than ours--and go for a load ofice."
"It's dangerous to go digging on icebergs. They're like to turn over,"suggested Jimmy.
"Oh, don't be afraid, now. Come on. There isn't any danger," said Bobby,with impelling enthusiasm. "We can get enough ice to keep the meat freshuntil it's all used up. Come on."
And Jimmy, as was his custom when Bobby urged, agreed. Skipper Ed'sskiff lay at the landing, and arming themselves with an ax the twopulled away unobserved.
It was a small iceberg, perhaps sixty feet in diameter, and rising notmore than twenty feet above the water. Its surface was irregular, andthere were several places where excellent footing could be had. The boatwas directed toward one of these.
"You stay in the boat," said Bobby, seizing the ax, "and I'll go aboardher and cut the ice."
"Be careful," cautioned Jimmy.
"Oh, there's no danger," said Bobby, climbing to the iceberg.
Bobby began chopping off as large pieces as he thought he couldconveniently handle. The ice was exceedingly hard and brittle. It hadfrozen centuries before, under the extremely low temperatures of theArctic regions. It had its beginning, perhaps, in snow deposited in somefar-off Greenland valley. Other snows had come upon it, and still othersnows, until a tremendous weight of snow pressed it, as it froze, into aglass-like hardness.
And all the while the great mass was moving, inch by inch, and slowly,down the long valley toward the sea. Perhaps a century passed, perhapstwo or three, or even more, centuries, before this particular portion ofthe glacier, as these masses of ice between the hills are called,reached the sea and was at last thrust out beyond the land.
And then, one day, with a report like the report of a cannon, itseparated from the mother glacier, slid out into the current, and beganits southward voyage. Months had passed since then--perhaps a year, oreven two or three years--and all the time it had been wasting away inthe water until Bobby and Jimmy found it this July day, off ItigailitIsland.
But neither Bobby as he chopped at the ice, nor Jimmy as he sat in theboat, gave that a thought, if indeed they knew it. They were intent onlyupon gathering enough of the aged ice to preserve the meat of a polarbear.
Neither did they realize that with each stroke of the ax Bobby wasdisturbing the center of gravitation of the iceberg, already delicatelybalanced in the water, until presently Jimmy noticed that the side nexthim was rising--very slowly and deliberately at first.
"Bobby! Look out--the berg's turning!" he shouted in a terrified voice.
Up and up went the side of the iceberg. Bobby was lost to view. Thencame a rush of water, a great deluging wave swamped the skiff, andJimmy went down with a crash and roar of water and crumbling ice in hisears.
