Our boy’s respect for his father and the men whom he saw landing their catches right along had grown some.
“Golly!”
The thing came alive again with a twist and a plunge. It yanked like a hundred dog-team. The sudden pull on the thong acted as a giant catapult, whirled the pick out of the ice, the shaft from Kak’s hands, and sent them flying. The hunter fell forward, recovered, surged to his knees, saw his extra line a writhing serpent slip along the ice and tried to catch it—vainly. A second later, with a sharp zip the rope reached its limit and tightened about his waist like a vise, cutting his flesh through two coats, jerking him violently on to his face.
A wail of pain and dismay rang through the clear air. Sapsuk answered with howls and barks. Kak felt like howling in chorus as he realized how he was caught. All his strength on the line failed to ease its pressure. And when the maddened animal dived the squeezing made him gasp.
The boy knew now this was no ordinary catch. It must be an ugrug, one of the huge bearded seals, almost as big and powerful as a bear; the knowledge gave him alternate thrills of delight and terror. He was torn between pride over spearing an ugrug, with insane desire to do the impossible and land the critter; and a mortal fear lest it should cut him in two. Wildly he tugged at the thong with an idea of loosening it sufficiently to squirm free. Let the monster take harpoon and all. Taptuna would forgive the loss when he heard how narrowly his son had escaped death. So Kak thought while the beast pulled; but when the pain eased a little, ambition soared. The youthful hunter pictured his reception if he strode home with the story of killing a bearded seal. At first they would laugh and cry shame on him for telling whoppers; then marvel open-mouthed, and finally believe when he proudly led his father forth and showed the prize.
For such a triumph Kak felt he would willingly give his life. At least he felt so while the ugrug rested; when the brute plunged again he bellowed:
“Help! Help!”
Foxes! How the thong cut. Incessantly the ugrug dived back and flung about, trying to twist that horrible spear out of his nose; and up on top of the snow each movement sawed and sawed poor Kak’s soft tummy. The seal had him flat on his face now dragged right across the hole, powerless, exhausted. He could not even lift his head high enough to see over the rough ice. So long as that stout leather line held, Kak was the ugrug’s prisoner; just as much a prisoner as if he had been shut within four walls.
Our hero was gifted with what we call presence of mind. As his father had said: “The boy’s got sense.” Even in this dreadful plight he did not lose his head and cry, or give up hope; but exercised his nimble wits considering how he could best help himself.
The sun was coming up, struggling against a fog; if it would only shine out and warm his back Kak reckoned to withstand the cold, in spite of that horrid thong lashing him to the icy floor under its snow blanket.