Building up the fire, I quickly warmed thoroughly two of the softest blankets. As tenderly as possible I placed the baby in the center of them and covered it up. It still kept up a plaintive wailing. Of course it was hungry.
From my stores I got some evaporated milk. It did not take long to mix a cupful. In my medicine kit I had an eyedropper. I perforated its rubber cap, then filled the phial with warm milk. The baby soon had it emptied; then she fell asleep.
Gazing at the sleeping infant, I envied her calm, for my own mind was in a turmoil. Then I remembered that perhaps the first duty of a Mountie is to protect life. I determined to save the baby somehow.
Leaving her sleeping, I composed the corpse of her mother; then, with furs and blankets, I made a sort of nest on the kyak behind the seat. Carefully I carried the infant and stowed her away, then I launched the craft.
The next three days and nights I shall never forget; every two or three hours the youngster became hungry and I had to light a fire and mix warm milk. Years of living in the North with men had made me independent of women, but I would have given a year’s pay to have had a woman to aid me then! I was fearful lest I handle the tiny mite too roughly. I wanted to keep it warm, yet I was afraid of suffocating it.
Fortunately, during those three days and nights the sea remained fairly calm and the craft rode well. In between times of pulling ashore to light a fire to warm milk, I paddled hard. On the evening of the third day I reached the tribe to which I had been taking Nuttinook. As eager natives hurried down to the shore to greet me, I almost hugged them.
Rapidly, with signs and speech, I made them understand. One of them led me into a gloomy snow hut. In one corner I espied a native woman with a babe at her breast. When I crawled out again, she had two babes to feed, but she accepted the extra one cheerfully. Outside, to the wonder of the watching natives, I turned a few handsprings in the snow. I have never enjoyed such a sense of relief at duty done!
Then I had to impart the sad news to the husband of Nuttinook: we had saved his squaw only for her to die in childbirth. A few days later he and some of his fellows escorted me back to the island to fetch the young mother’s body.
Two weeks later I returned safely to Tree River, none the worse for my patrol. But I shall always regard that as my toughest trip because of the unusual responsibility of looking after a newborn babe.
Several years later Ayunio, the husband of Nuttinook, made a trip to the post to tell me his little girl was fine and healthy. He also tried to present me with many fine Arctic fox furs. Unfortunately the regulations would not allow me to accept them.