Thereafter the two went to sleep, and spent six or seven hours of unbroken rest, awaking simultaneously and suddenly to find that the dogs outside were also awake and wishing to get in. Indeed, one of them had already scraped a hole in the wall that would soon have admitted him had not his master given him a tap on the nose with the butt of his gun.
Of course it was still dark, for the morning was not far advanced, but the star-light and the aurora were quite sufficient to enable them to see their way, as they set out once more on their lonesome journey.
Breakfast was a meal of which Nazinred made no account. Supper was his chief stand-by, on the strength of which he and his dogs slept, and also travelled during the following day. Soon after they had awakened, therefore, they were far from the hut in which the night had been spent.
The Indian’s plan was to travel in a straight line in the direction in which the Eskimos had been last seen. By so doing he counted upon either crossing their tracks, which he would follow up, or, coming to some large island which might prove to be their winter quarters, would skirt the shores of it in the hope of meeting with some of the tribes of which he was in search. The expedition, it will be seen, was somewhat of the nature of a forlorn hope, for drifting snow quickly obliterates tracks, and if the natives, when found, should turn out to be hostile, they would probably take from him his little possessions, if not also his life. But Nazinred’s love for Adolay was too strong to admit of his allowing such thoughts to weigh with him. Ere long, he found himself far from his woodland home, lost among the rugged solitudes of ice, with a fast diminishing supply of provisions, and, worst of all, no sign of track or other clue to guide him.
One day, as he was plodding slowly northward, guided by the stars, his faith in the success of his mission began to flag. Hard continuous toil and a weakening frame had no doubt something to do with his depression. His dogs, also, were in much the same condition with himself,—growing thin, and becoming less lively. Clambering to the top of a hummock, he surveyed the prospect before him. It was not cheering. The faint daylight of noon was spreading over the frozen sea, bringing the tops of the larger bergs out into bold relief against the steel-blue sky, and covering the jumble of lumps and hummocks with a cold grey light.
Despite his resolute purpose the poor man sat down on a lump of ice, buried his face in his hands, and meditated.
“Can it be,” he thought, “that the Great Manitou knows my grief and does not care? Surely that cannot be. I love my child, though she has fled from me. I am a child of the Manitou. Does He not love me? I will trust Him!”
A cold object touched his hand at the moment. It was the nose of the faithful Attim.
Nazinred regarded the touch as a good omen. He rose up and was about to resume the journey in a more hopeful frame of mind when a dark cloud on the horizon arrested his eye. After a long gaze he came to the conclusion that it was land. Two hours later he arrived at Waruskeek, and with a beating heart made straight for the huts, which could be plainly seen on the shore. But terrible disappointment was in store for him. On reaching the Eskimo village he found that it was deserted.
Nevertheless the improved state of mind did not quite forsake him. It was a comfort to have made a discovery of any kind, and was it not possible that, during the brief daylight of the morrow, he might be able to distinguish the tracks made by the party when they left the place and follow them up?