Constable Sloan was out and back in a few moments. “Not a sign of anyone around—no dog team either,” the Constable reported quietly.
McCarthy’s face took on a grave expression, and his jaws hardened. “Ask the Eskimo what scared him?” he directed Constable Sloan.
By this time the Eskimo had somewhat recovered his natural calm, yet he frequently looked fearfully toward the igloo entrance, as if he feared something was coming in to get him.
The Constable’s questions were brief and the Eskimo’s answers prompt, though his voice trembled from fright.
“The Eskimo says it was the ‘white Eskimo’ that attacked them,” Constable Sloan reported presently. “He says his two companions were killed and the dogs taken.”
A deep silence fell upon all who had heard Constable Sloan’s words. It was several seconds before Corporal McCarthy spoke rapidly:
“Get ready for the trail. We leave here just as soon as we get a few hours’ sleep. I’m going to enlist Sipsa as a guide, and I’ll get my man if I have to trail him clear to the North Pole!”
CHAPTER IV
THE WHITE ESKIMO
It was thirty below zero the following morning when two teams of twelve dogs, each drawing sledges, loaded with supplies, departed from the little village of igloos. The warm breath from man and dog turned to vapor in the freezing air, and all were enveloped in a cloud of steam as they trekked eastward along the coastline.
Corporal McCarthy had found Sipsa willing to lead the party and had also enlisted the aid of two Eskimo dog drivers, Okewah and Ootanega. The policeman had promised all of them large rewards in tools, rifles, and tents, provided they served him faithfully in pursuit of the “white Eskimo.”