“How do you know that?” inquires the skipper.
“By the build o’ thet wigwam, an’ the bulk of it. Ez ye see, it’s roun’-topped, whereas them o’ the Tekineekers, an’ other Feweegins, run up to a sharp p’int, besides bein’ bigger an’ roomier. Thar’s another sign, too, of its bein’ Ailikoleep. They kiver thar wigwams wi’ seal-skins, ’stead o’ grass, which the Tekineekas use. Ef this hed been thatched wi’ grass, we’d see some o’ the rubbish inside, an’ the floor ’d be hollered out—which it’s not. Yes, the folks that squatted hyar hev been Ailikoleeps. But ’tain’t no surprise to me, ez I heern some words pass ’mong the fishin’ party, which show’d ’em to be thet same. Wal,” he continues, more hopefully, “thar’s one good thing: they haven’t set fut on this groun’ fur a long while, which air some airnest o’ thar hevin’ gi’n the place up fur good. Those dead woods tell o’ thar last doin’s about hyar.”
He points to some trees standing near, dead, and with most of the bark stripped from their trunks.
“They’ve peeled ’em fur patchin’ thar canoes, an’ by the look of it, thet barkin’ was done more’n three years ago.”
What he says does little to restore confidence. The fact of the fishing party having been Ailikoleeps is too sure evidence that danger is still impending. And such danger! It only needs recalling the late attack—the fiendish aspect of the savages, with their furious shouts and gestures, the darting of javelins and hurling of stones—to fully realise what it is. With that fearful episode fresh in their thoughts, the castaways require no further counsel to make them cautious in their future movements.
The first of them is the pitching their tent, which is set up so as to be screened from view of any canoe passing along the sea-arm; and for their better accommodation, the wigwam is re-roofed, as it, too, is invisible from the water. No fire is to be made during daylight, lest its smoke should betray them; and when kindled at night for cooking purposes, it must be done within the wood, whence not a glimmer of it may escape outward. A lookout is to be constantly kept through the glass by one or another taking it in turns, to look out, not alone for enemies, but for friends—for that ship which they still hope may come along the Beagle Channel.
Note 1. These shell-heaps, or “kitchen middens,” are a feature of Fuegian scenery. They are usually found wherever there is a patch of shore level enough to land upon; but the beach opposite a bed of kelp is the place where the largest are met with. In such situations the skeletons of old wigwams are also encountered, as the Fuegians, on deserting them, always leave them standing, probably from some superstitious feeling.