He knew the family had slept till after daylight and when they woke and saw his place empty they would think he had only gone a short way and not bother till after breakfast. If his father missed the harpoon he would guess their plan and be in no hurry to follow, since squatting by a seal hole is a comparatively safe way to be lost. When he did start to find them it was going to take him a long time, because the boy and dog had made play of their hunting and run all around on the wide field. The snow was exceptionally hard, wind-driven, so their footprints would only show in drifted patches with gaps some of them maybe a quarter of a mile wide. You can understand that between criss-crossed tracks and no tracks and a thickening fog Taptuna’s game of hare and hound would not be easy.
Lying as he did, flat on his face, the boy could not do much to draw attention. The idea of his father passing and neither of them knowing it worried him, till with sudden joy he recollected Sapsuk. The dog made a bold, dark mark. There was a good chance of Taptuna seeing Sapsuk if he came near at all. Hitkoak, too, would probably be hunting. With eyes riveted on his bodkin Kak had not noticed what was happening behind him. Their neighbor might be sitting close by. At the thought he tried to shout, but the snow muffled his voice; only his faithful pup heard and barked reply. That sound filled Kak with hope.
“Good dog! Good dog!” he cried. “Keep it up, old boy!”
“Yap—yap—yap!”
“Come on, old fellow. Come on!”
Thus urged the tethered canine pranced and yelped, straining at his leash, while Kak’s heart glowed. Barking would carry far through the still air; and on the hunting ground such a racket could only mean trouble.
“Go it, old fellow!” he wheezed, almost smothered by snow.
But all at once Sapsuk decided his master was only playing pranks on him, and lay down sulking.
“Good old doggie, good boy.”
He would not answer even to Kak’s most wheedling tone; perhaps he did not hear.