Conjecturing that these people would hardly have visited us without having first fallen in with Sonntag and Hans, I at once sent the interpreter to interrogate them. He came back in a few minutes. I inquired eagerly if they brought news of Mr. Sonntag. "Yes." I had no need to inquire further. Jensen's face told too plainly the terrible truth,—Sonntag was dead!
I sent Jensen back to see that the wants of our savage visitors were carefully provided for, and to question them further. They proved to be two of my old acquaintances,—Ootinah, to whom I was under obligations for important services in 1854, and a sprightly fellow, who, having had his leg crushed by a falling stone, had since hobbled about on a wooden one supplied to him, in 1850, by the surgeon of the North Star, and which I had once repaired for him. They both came on one sledge, drawn by five dogs, and had traveled all the way through from a village, on the south side of Whale Sound, called Iteplik, without a halt. They had faced a wind part of the way, and were covered from head to foot with snow and frost. Their wants were soon bountifully supplied, and they were not slow in communicating the information which most interested me. From them I learned that Hans was on his way to the vessel with his wife's father and mother. Some of his dogs had died, and he was traveling in slow and easy stages. There being no longer any occasion for my southern journey, the preparations therefor were discontinued.
HANS'S STORY.
Hans arrived two days afterward, and, much to our surprise, he was accompanied only by his wife's brother, a lad whom I had seen some months before at Cape York; but the cause of this was soon explained. His wife's father and mother, as Ootinah informed me, had journeyed with him, but they, as well as the dogs, had broken down, and were left behind, near the glacier, and Hans had come on for assistance. A party was at once dispatched to bring them in. Hans being cold and fatigued, I refrained for the time from questioning him, and sent the weather-beaten travelers to get warmed and fed.
The two old people were found coiled up in a cave dug in a snow-bank, and were shivering with the cold. The dogs were huddled together near by, and not one of them would stir a step, so both the animals and the Esquimaux were bundled in a heap upon our large ice-sledge, and dragged to the vessel. The Esquimaux were soon revived by the warmth and good cheer of Hans's tent, while the dogs, only five in number, lay stretched out on the deck in an almost lifeless condition. They could neither eat nor move. And this was the remnant of my once superb pack of thirty-six, and this the result of a journey from which I had hoped so much! There was a mystery somewhere. What could it all mean? I quote from my diary:—
February 1st.
Hans has given me the story of his journey, and I sit down to record it with very painful emotions.
The travelers rounded Cape Alexander without difficulty, finding the ice solid; and they did not halt until they had reached Sutherland Island, where they built a snow-hut and rested for a few hours. Continuing thence down the coast, they sought the Esquimaux at Sorfalik without success. The native hut at that place being in ruins, they made for their shelter another house of snow; and, after being well rested, they set out directly for Northumberland Island, having concluded that it was useless to seek longer for natives on the north side of the Sound. They had proceeded on their course about four or five miles, as nearly as I can judge from Hans's description, when Sonntag, growing a little chilled, sprang off the sledge and ran ahead of the dogs to warm himself with the exercise. The tangling of a trace obliging Hans to halt the team for a few minutes, he fell some distance behind, and was hurrying on to catch up, when he suddenly observed Sonntag sinking. He had come upon the thin ice, covering a recently open tide-crack, and, probably not observing his footing, he stepped upon it unawares. Hans hastened to his rescue, and aided him out of the water, and then turned back for the shelter which they had recently abandoned. A light wind was blowing at the time from the northeast, and this, according to Hans, caused Sonntag to seek the hut without stopping to change his wet clothing. At first he ran beside the sledge, and thus guarded against danger; but after a while he rode, and when they halted at Sorfalik, Hans discovered that his companion was stiff and speechless. Assisting him into the hut with all possible despatch, Hans states that he removed the wet and frozen clothing, and placed Sonntag in the sleeping-bag. He next gave him some brandy which he found in a flask on the sledge; and, having tightly closed the hut, he lighted the alcohol lamp, for the double purpose of elevating the temperature and making some coffee; but all of his efforts were unavailing, and, after remaining for nearly a day unconscious, Sonntag died. He did not speak after reaching the hut, and left no message of any kind.
After closing up the mouth of the hut, so that the body might not be disturbed by the bears or foxes, Hans again set out southward, and reached Northumberland Island without inconvenience. Much to his disappointment, he found that the natives had recently abandoned the village at that place; but he obtained a comfortable sleep in a deserted hut, and under a pile of stones he found enough walrus flesh to give his dogs a hearty meal. The next day's journey brought him to Netlik, which place was also deserted; and he continued on up the Sound some twenty miles further to Iteplik, where he was fortunate enough to find several families residing, some in the native stone hut and others in huts of snow. Whale Sound being: a favorite winter resort of the seal, the people had congregated there for the time, and were living in the midst of abundance. Hans told his story, and, delighted to hear of our being near their old village of Etah, Ootinah and he of the wooden leg put their two teams together and resolved to accompany Hans when he set out to return.
Meanwhile, however, my hunter had other projects. He was only three days from the vessel, and had he come back at once the chief purpose of the journey would still have been accomplished; but instead of doing this, he gave large rewards to two Esquimaux boys to go with his team down to Cape York. The stock of presents which Sonntag had taken for the Esquimaux all now fell to Hans, and he did not spare them. And he vows that his disposition of the property and the team was made in my interest. "You want the Esquimaux to know you are here. I tell them. They will come by and by and bring plenty of dogs." Why did he not go himself to Cape York? He was too tired, and had, besides, a frosted toe which he got while attending upon Mr. Sonntag.