Leaving the old man and his son in their big tent we left early in the morning, with the high wind at our backs, and made fairly good going all day. At noon we reached an aranga and had some tea. Then we went on again and about five o’clock came to another aranga. Near by was an empty tent. We entered and in a few minutes an old man came in from the aranga and made signs that he would make us some tea if we wanted it. He went back to the aranga and presently returned with a brand new copper kettle, holding about two gallons. He said we could use it and that he would get the ice to fill it if we would provide the fire and the tea. I saw that it was going to take some time to make tea, so we went along, but as the old man seemed to be pretty badly off I gave him some pemmican and tea tablets.
At dark we built our igloo. I took Colt inside with us and tied his mouth, taking a half hitch on the rope so that he could not chew. Then I put three or four turns of the rope criss-cross on the harness so that he could not extricate himself, and tied the rope to myself. The result was that with his continuous restlessness I got no sleep all night. It was the last time I tried that device; after that I simply tethered him with the rest of the dogs.
CHAPTER XXV
“MUSIC HATH CHARMS”
The next morning dawned clear and fine. We got away early and had good going, so that by noon we reached an aranga not far from Cape Wankarem. We were received kindly here and given tea, which was all that the house afforded. I left some tea tablets in exchange.
Proceeding on our way again we reached Cape Wankarem at five o’clock in the afternoon; the cape is not high land, just a low promontory. We found four arangas here. Our usual method when we came to a place with more than one aranga was to look the whole collection over and go to what seemed the most likely one of the lot. Here, therefore, we passed one or two which seemed only ordinary and stopped before the one which seemed the best. An old man came out and made signs for us to enter. We did so and as soon as we were inside the door an old woman took us in charge. She removed our boots and stockings, turned them inside out and hung them up to dry over the native lamp. Then she brought out her best china and we had tea with sugar in it. She had two fine-looking daughters who helped wait upon us. The aranga was scrupulously clean, with plenty of furs; evidently the master of the house was in comfortable circumstances.
When we had finished our tea the old man made signs that he wanted to see my chart; clearly the men who had gone on ahead of us, the previous day, had told him about us, and he wanted to see for himself. I brought out the chart and showed it to him. He examined it carefully and made signs about the crushing of the ship. Presently he went to a box and produced a number of magazines, perhaps ten or a dozen in all, most of them about two years old. There were copies of The World’s Work, The National Geographic Magazine, The Literary Digest and The Illustrated London News. The day’s march in the cold wind, following the long succession of such days, with the hours of searching through the whirling snowdrift for the right path from Wrangell Island and the glare of the sun along the tundra, had affected my eyes more and more severely. By this time, besides being pretty tired and sleepy, I felt more like giving my eyes a rest than trying to read. I could hardly make out the print and it hurt my eyes a good deal, so I made signs to our host and he understood at once and did not urge the magazines upon me.
Fortunately, too, relief came in the person of another old man, who entered the aranga just then. He was evidently a crony of our host, for without more ado both fell to playing casino, like a couple of old veterans playing cards in their club.
After a time, I fell asleep and had a refreshing nap. When I awoke, the card-players were still at it. After a while they finished their game and then our host got out a box. It looked very much like a talking-machine and I remember thinking, “What in the name of Heaven is that?” Then he removed a cloth from another box and took out a record and I saw that it was indeed a talking-machine. The old man acted just like an American householder who proudly plays you the latest record by Caruso or John McCormack. He treated us to an extended concert, numbering forty-two selections, starting off with “My Hero” from “The Chocolate Soldier.” About half of the songs were in Russian and the rest in English. Like the true music-lover, he kept on playing until he had finished all of his forty-two records, while the old lady busied herself mending our clothes. I was so sleepy that I am afraid I dropped off several times during the concert but I enjoyed it just the same.
The old man now passed over to me a tumbler and a spoon, together with a bottle which contained some kind of patent “painkiller.” Then he brought out a sick boy about fifteen years old and made signs to me to give the youngster a dose of the painkiller. The tumbler and spoon and bottle were all carefully wrapped up in a neat package and I could see that the old man prized this medicine kit of his as much as an Arctic explorer might value a medal. The directions on the bottle were printed in English. As nearly as I could find out, the boy had received his last treatment some time during the previous summer; evidently the doses were given him only when some one happened along who could read the directions. I took the bottle and the spoon and measured out the proper quantity in the glass, added water and administered it to my patient in a very solemn manner, just as if I were a real doctor. I don’t suppose there was enough of it to do the youngster any real harm; certainly he did not receive medical attention often enough to do him permanent injury. I was very deliberate in my actions; in fact I believe I consumed fully half an hour in the process.