In this operation she was gleefully assisted by little Tumbler and Pussi, who, having recovered from their horror when the bear fell dead, seemed to think that all succeeding acts were part of a play got up for their special amusement.
When the surgical work was done, Nunaga again turned her attention to Kabelaw. She had indeed felt a little surprised that her friend seemed to take no interest in the work in which she was engaged, and was still more surprised when, on going up to her, she found her sitting in the same position in which she had left her, and wearing the same stupid half-stunned look on her face. A few words sufficed to reveal the truth, and, to Nunaga’s consternation, she found that her friend was suffering from what is known among the civilised as concussion of the brain.
When the full significance of her condition at last forced itself upon the poor girl, when she came to see clearly that she was, as it were, cast away in the Arctic wilderness, with the whole care of a helpless man and woman and two equally helpless children, besides a sledge and team of dogs, devolving on her she proved herself to be a true heroine by rising nobly to the occasion.
Her first act was to return, with characteristic humility, and ask Ujarak what she must do.
“You must take the dogs and sledge and the children,” he answered in a low voice, “and save yourselves.”
“What! and leave you here?”
“Yes; I am bad. It is well that I should die.”
“But Kabelaw?” said the girl, with a glance at her friend. “She has got the head-sickness and cannot help herself.”
“Leave her to die also,” said the wizard carelessly; “she is not worth much.”
“Never!” cried Nunaga, with emphasis. “I will save her, I will save you all. Did you not tell me that the village of the Kablunets is only two suns from here?”