“Dangerous, treacherous, bad.”
Kak did not have to ponder that answer at all, it tripped off his tongue like a well-learned charm; but he added in justice, as his glance traveled from one dark face to another: “They don’t look it.”
Meanwhile Jimmie and his companions had time to develop cold feet. Seeing their proposal arouse so much argument made them think twice about it also. They consulted, decided the adventure might prove dangerous even under escort, and agreed to draw off.
“It is only that your friend, Selby, told me to ask you—for us, we would as soon not,” Muskrat whined.
But his words, which were intended to excuse him, acted quite the wrong way. Naturally Omialik liked to please his friend, a man does not have so many friends up there in the north.
“Since Selby wants it I agree,” he added. “We will start now, camp in the woods, and to-morrow find a place for you to lie hidden while I arrange the interview.”
The white man had spoken and none dared to contradict. They joined forces, traveling together many hours, during all of which time Kak treated the strangers like comrades. But as soon as they stopped, and the Indians withdrew to make their own camp, they became mysterious and awful again in his imagination. He watched them moving about through the glade; saw them pitch their tepee; saw the long shadows cast by the midnight sun streaming over it; saw the three men enter. Then he crept inside Omialik’s silk tent, but he did not feel like sleeping. Impossible to forget that other camp standing a bare hundred paces away harboring the deadly enemy! Those stories of how his people had all been killed while they slept tormented the boy’s memory. His nerves tingled with apprehension—he would not stoop to call the fever fear—but all the same it drove him to suggesting that he and Omialik might take turns on guard.
The Kabluna thought this a roaring joke. “First rate!” he laughed. “You will be watching here, old fellow, and the redskins will be watching in their quarters, for they are about as scared as they find comfortable, and while you are all watching I can feel perfectly safe, and will have a thoroughly sound sleep.”
Of course this kind of talk made Kak seem rather absurd, but it did not entirely quiet his pulse. He knew somebody ought to watch; if Omialik would not take turns he must just manage to stay on guard all alone. He played foxy and pretended to go to bed, then lay awake staring at the crack of light along the tent flap till his companion slept. The regular breathing of a person asleep is an eerie sound even in broad day; rising and falling through the twilight under their taffy-colored cone, it roused all Kak’s alarm. He drew himself up to a sitting position, grasped his knife in one hand, laid his bow ready by his side, and steeled his nerves to combat.
If it had been dark the boy would have stayed awake all night. But sitting up in a gloomy tent with daylight filtering underneath, making outside seem so much safer than inside, is poor meat for romance. There was no sound anywhere. Spruce forest straggled for miles in endless quiet. No wind stirred the heavy boughs; no rain pattered through on to the carpeted ground. Once a rabbit scuttled across, sending shivers up and down the watcher’s spine, but the ruffling sound died away and nothing happened. Gradually Eskimo fears relaxed; Kak’s mind shed its hereditary burden; he began to wonder at himself for going against Omialik’s advice.