Unavik touched the boys’ arms and beckoned for them to follow. Down the hill he led them, across the end of the little valley and up a frozen mound of drifted snow. Intent on the dogs, the deer gave no heed to the fur clad figures sneaking across the snow, if indeed they saw them, and in a few moments the three were within a few hundred feet of the herd. Taking careful aim at the two largest deer, the boys fired. As the reports rang out across the frozen land, the reindeer threw up their heads and, forgetting the dogs in their new terror, raced down the valley leaving two of their number dead upon the trampled snow. Now was the dogs’ chance, and yelping, snapping, barking, they raced after the deer, nipping at their heels, biting savagely at their flanks like the half-wolves they were. Now and then a deer would turn and strike viciously with his big hoofs at his tormentors and presently the herd again formed in a circle with lowered heads and menacing hoofs. Already they had forgotten the gun shots in the face of this greater peril of the wolfish dogs, and the boys once more raised their rifles to shoot.
“We don’t need more than one more,” whispered Jim. “You kill him, Tom. Your gun’s better at that range.”
Once more, as the report roared out, a deer fell and the herd, now thoroughly terrified, fled at top speed towards the east with the savage dogs at their heels. The dogs followed only a short distance. There in the valley were the fallen deer and the scent of blood and, snarling and baying, they came tearing back and dashed ravenously upon the body of the last deer killed. Before they could tear the skin or bury their sharp white teeth in the carcass, Unavik was among them, lashing out with his cruel whip, shouting shrill orders and striking cutting blows right and left. Growling sullenly, the dogs drew back, crouching, whimpering, cringing with tails between legs and ears laid back. Paying no heed to the threatening bared teeth and updrawn lips, the Eskimo stepped among them, rapidly secured the thongs about their necks together and then, with a word to the boys, drove his huskies over the knoll before him.
In a few moments he was back with the sledge, and with the boys’ help the deer’s body was lifted upon it and lashed securely in place. But one deer was all the sled could carry, and Unavik told the boys they would have to carry the first deer to the village and return with the sledge and more dogs for the others.
“But won’t something eat them while we’re gone?” asked Tom.
“Sure Mike, mebbe,” replied the Eskimo who, proud of his fragmentary English, never spoke to the boys in his own tongue if he could avoid it. “Me say plenty wolf, plenty bear, mebbe eatum.”
“Hurrah!” cried Jim as a sudden idea came to him. “Say, Tom, we’ll stay here and watch while Unavik goes to the village. Then if wolves or bears come we can shoot them.”
“That’s a bully scheme,” agreed Tom. “Go ahead, Unavik, we’ll wait here.”
For a moment the Eskimo hesitated. He knew the boys had no idea as to where they were and he was responsible for their safety. But the sky was clear, there was no danger of a blizzard and as long as they remained within sight of the dead deer there seemed no danger.
“A’right,” he agreed presently. “No try walk. You feller make get los’ die plenty quick, me say; sure Mike!”