The conduct of
his rascally companions could no longer be misunderstood. Hunters came
in with game; but when the hungry slaves would have lighted a moss fire
to cook the meat, the forbidding hand of a chief went up. No fires
were to be lighted. The Indians advanced with whispers, dodging from
stone to stone like raiders in ambush. Spies went forward on tiptoe.
Then far down-stream below the cataracts Hearne descried the domed
tent-tops of an Eskimo band sound asleep; for it was midnight, though
the sun was at high noon. When Hearne looked back to his companions,
he found himself deserted. The Indians were already wading the river
for the west bank, where the Eskimo had camped. Hearne overtook his
guides stripping themselves of everything that might impede flight or
give hand-hold to an enemy, and daubing their skin with war-paint.
Hearne begged Matonabbee to restrain the murderous warriors. The great
chief smiled with silent contempt. He was too true a disciple of a
doctrine which Indians' practised hundreds of years before white men
had avowed it--the survival of the fit, the extermination of the weak,
for any qualms of pity towards a victim whose death would contribute
profit. Wearing only moccasins and bucklers of hardened hide, armed
with muskets, lances, and tomahawks, the Indians jostled Hearne out of
their way, stole forward from stone to stone to within a gun length of
the Eskimo, then with a wild war shout flung themselves on the
unsuspecting sleepers.
Pages:
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252