Taptuna gave the word to his dogs and swung around.
“You see how it turns out!” cried Okak. “Just as I told you.”
He pointed to where Kak crouched, for the dogs had gone a short distance before stopping. “If you had made him listen to me, friend, we would have been flying along still.”
Without a word Taptuna ran back to his son.
“Is it as bad as that, my boy?” he asked kindly. Okak annoyed him with his bossy I-told-you-so manner; he partly understood why Kak had thrown away his goggles.
Poor Kak was sitting in the snow with the tears streaming over his face, feeling he had not a friend in the world. He expected to be scolded, and the sound of his father’s voice was such a nice surprise it broke him all up. Now he commenced to cry really.
“I’ve got to get home, and I can’t see! I can’t go any further. I’ll just have to sit here and freeze. I can’t stand this agony! I can’t get home!... Boo-hoo.... I can’t bear it!”
Don’t think Kak a great cry-baby. On other occasions he had proved both brave and resourceful. Remember snowblindness is one of the most painful afflictions possible. It is not really blindness in the sense that you cannot see; but at its worst the eyes are so sore one dare not open them even for a minute to look at anything, and so the sufferer is practically blind.
Taptuna saw at once that Kak’s eyes were in a bad way; but he did not think telling him so would help. Okak had done sufficient croaking for the whole journey; instead he said cheerfully:
“Don’t you worry, old fellow, we’ll get you home all right. Buck up now and take my arm and I’ll lead you to the sleigh. I can make a tent for you on it so that you won’t even know the sun shines.”