“He has promised his wife to go to Franklin Bay and try to meet the Kabluna. She wants some steel needles.”
Guninana’s speech sounded gently satisfied; Okak observed it and swelled with importance.
“Two dogs——” he began, intending to enlarge on his happy inspiration, but it was just at this moment Kak entered.
“Who said ‘two dogs’?” the lively lad cried in a round, booming, out-of-doors voice. “What about Kanik—my pup? I’d have you remember we’ve got three dogs now!”
The resonant words shot like a boomerang through Okak’s self-complacence. Instantly he knew the cause lost. He heard it in Guninana’s little gasp; read it in his neighbor’s sparkling eyes bent on the intruder.
“You think of everything, my boy. I had forgotten Kanik.”
Taptuna spoke quietly, but all saw his elation. He felt immensely proud of Kak, and in that the boy’s mother must join him. Fresh proof of her son’s cleverness always put Guninana into beaming good humor; moreover, it is fun to play on the winning side. The family joined forces against Okak and silenced his arguments if not his fears.
They agreed to travel as far as Crocker River with Alunak’s party, and this journey turned out harder and slower than anybody had anticipated, for a strong wind from the northwest blew directly in their faces all the way. At the river Okak made a final throw for safety by trying to persuade their friends to join forces in bear hunting at the eleventh hour. Alunak himself was minded to do so, if it had not been for his wife’s fixed idea about needles. He had promised, and the lady being a very dominant person meant to see that he kept his promise. They all got into a great discussion over it, which lasted while they were house-building and eating, and commenced again the next morning. Nothing would turn the woman; Guninana even offered to lend her a needle for as long as they were in Victoria Island, but she held to her point. Perhaps she was as curious to see the Kabluna as to inspect his trade goods; Kak thought so anyway, and blazing with a wild hope suggested they might all go on to Franklin Bay first. When his father answered “No,” most emphatically, he grew tired of the merry argument and, deciding to take his dog for a walk, went out alone.
Kanik leaped up, pawing his master’s shoulders, making no end of a fuss and acting silly as a pup does; the pair were perfectly happy till Sapsuk got on to what was afoot and whined, wagging his tail, pleading to be allowed to go. In his present mood the boy thought two a company and three a crowd, so he felt annoyed. Sapsuk might be his favorite, but Kanik was his own—if you have ever possessed a dog you will understand. Kak was so torn between the two that in the end he took neither.
“You have to work hard, and it is better for you to rest,” he admonished like a grandfather, and started off, his walk already half spoiled. “If Sapsuk keeps this up I’ll never be able to teach the pup anything!” the boy muttered fretfully, for the first time wishing his friend had loved him a little less.