Snow had barely cleared from the Barren Lands when Hearne witnessed the
great traverse of the caribou herds, marching in countless multitudes
with a clicking of horns and hoofs from west to east for the summer.
Indians from all parts of the North had placed themselves at rivers
across the line of march to spear the caribou as they swam; and Hearne
was joined by a company of six hundred savages. Summer had dried the
moss. That gave abundance of fuel. Caribou were plentiful. That
supplied the hunters with pemmican. Hearne decided to pass the
following winter with the Indians; but he was one white man among
hundreds of savages. Nightly his ammunition was plundered. One of his
survey instruments was broken in a wind storm. Others were stolen. It
was useless to go on without instruments to take observations of the
Arctic Circle; so for a second time Hearne was compelled to turn back
to Fort Prince of Wales. Terrible storms impeded the return march.
His dog was frozen in the traces. Tent poles were used for fire-wood;
and the northern lights served as the only compass. On midday of
November 25, 1770, after eight months' absence, in which he had not
found the "Far-Off-Metal River," Hearne reached shelter inside the fort
walls.
Beating through the gales of sleet and snow on the homeward march,
Hearne had careened into a majestic figure half shrouded by the storm.
The explorer halted before a fur-muffled form, six feet in its
moccasins, erect as a mast pole, haughty as a king; and the gauntleted
hand of the Indian chief went up to his forehead in sign of peace.
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