When Sapsuk had sniffed around in circles, settled his mind on one spot, and raised a paw to dig, Kak grabbed the leash and hauled him off.
“Too bad, old chap, to disappoint you,” he apologized, patting his dog’s thick coat. Sapsuk’s being out of it was the worst part of sealing.
When he had consoled his favorite, Kak hurried back, dug away some of the snow, and feeling about very carefully found the small hole. There he placed his ivory bodkin sticking down through so that the seal would bump its point as he swam up to breathe. Next he cut himself a block of snow to sit on, and spread his fox skin under his feet. The boy took his extra line, wrapped it firmly about his waist, and unfastening the harpoon line from the ice pick on the upper end of the shaft, tied these two thongs fast together. He twisted a couple of turns back around near the pick so that the line would lie smoothly under his hand, and settled patiently to watch his bodkin, very much as you watch the float when you go fishing. There was no loafing or larking for Kak; all the time he held the harpoon in his hand and kept himself alert, ready if the ivory moved to strike down quickly and pierce the animal’s snub nose.
It sounds simple since the seal must come up for air. But seals are clever as well as shy; each animal makes several breathing holes, and a boy can watch only one; so if Sapsuk happened to find a place which the seal had just left, Kak would be obliged to watch hours before its owner returned.
After catching his prize, the hunter holds on to his thong till he cuts away the ice around the hole with his copper chisel and makes it large enough to drag his victim out. This is the thrilling part. This is what Kak counted on. Sitting all day long, watching, proved his mettle. The boy was no quitter, but he had remained two hours in one place and one position, and was terribly bored and aching for a run—a bit of a change—excuse to move about.
“It’s yell or bust!” he muttered.
Feeling hungry he laid the harpoon down for a moment and got out his package of dried meat. With this open on the ground beside him, he lunched, snatching one hand away from duty long enough to put a piece into his mouth, then taking firm hold again. While he ate he planned deserting for a little game with Sapsuk. The more he thought of it, the better a game seemed. Unconsciously he glanced toward his dog, and at that moment the ivory pin began to tremble, its motion caused by ripples in the water as a seal swam up. This was the hunter’s warning—but his wits were elsewhere. He had almost decided to quit and play when the bodkin suddenly jerked. Amid that world of tense inaction its bob crashed like a trumpet call. Kak’s mind leaped. He dashed down the spear with all his force. The thrill of it gave him twice his usual strength and he struck as truly and a good deal harder than his father or Hitkoak would have done. It is the sure aim and not the muscle which counts. He knew at once he had hit his seal for he felt the knife sink into its flesh.
The startled animal pulled back, pulling the loose tip off the harpoon. Instantly Kak reversed the shaft and drove the pick deep into the ice. As the thong was around this, though not tied, it formed a sort of anchor; and with it and the loop on his body the boy imagined himself master of any situation. He seized the braided sinew as he had seen Taptuna do, but it simply tore through his fingers. He could no more hold against that terrific pull than turn a blizzard with his breath. He yelled for help. Sapsuk’s was the only answering voice. Cold perspiration bathed him. He was in an agony of excitement. The beast would get away, such force must certainly snap the line. He would lose his prize and with it his father’s best harpoon head. In a spasm Kak saw his grand adventure ending in dire disgrace. To return home empty-handed, having to confess he had been unable to hold his seal—it was unthinkable! Spurred by the threatened shame he clutched madly, but the throng whizzed away from him, faster than it takes to tell, and snapped taut its length to the pick. It is impossible to get a good grip on a thin tight line; Kak, undefeated, grabbed the harpoon shaft and held on like fury.
There was an instant’s lull below. The young hunter drew a deep breath and braced himself.
“Wolloping fishes! Who’d think a seal could pull so hard!”