The village gave a splendid supper of roasted caribou heads of which Indians and Eskimos alike are very fond, and of masu, blood soup, and other delicacies which the visitors had never tasted; and then, everybody having been up for hours and hours, invited them into their tents to sleep. This the Indians flatly refused. They were afraid to separate and trust themselves among the different families, so they told a whopper, and claimed it was their custom to sleep on the ground by the fire. The hosts were much too polite to contradict, though they thought this very odd indeed. Kak knew it was a lie, still he said nothing. The boy saw that Omialik and his Eskimos were staying with the red men and wanted to stay also. But keeping guard most of the previous night and playing hero most of the day had worn him out. At a word from Guninana he gave up, went to his bed, dropped on it, and slept like a log.
Next morning Jimmie invited the Eskimos to go down to the Indian camp where they had smoked caribou meat and marrow-bones. Only a few of the men, headed by Taptuna with his wife and a friend of hers, ventured to accept; but those who did go were very glad, for the Indians treated them royally and made a feast in one of their great lodges. After the feast, an old slant-eye who happened to be among the company dressed up in his ancient costume to show off. Everybody sat about conversing, Muskrat always taking the lead while Omialik translated. Finally the Indians bestowed some simple presents on their guests, and the party turned homeward.
The whole village could talk of nothing else but these visits. They all felt so glad to know the Indians were not so wicked as they had believed. Men and women went about with light hearts, for one of the worst dangers of their southern trips to get wood had now been removed. They need no longer tremble at the thought of being massacred in their beds. Everybody talked Indian with enthusiasm—everybody but Okak. He never varied one whit from the stand he had taken in his fine speech: The redskins were enemies—bad men; and nothing good could come of dealing with them.
Taptuna used to laugh at his friend for this, poking fun at such timidity. But quite suddenly, one day, he stopped laughing and poking fun. After that when Okak began to talk about “bad Indians” the chief scout sat by moodily making no remark, or exchanging glances with his wife and son.
AN OLD SLANT-EYE DRESSED UP IN HIS ANCIENT COSTUME TO SHOW OFF.
The change hinged on a serious discovery. Omialik had gone down during the summer to see his friend, Selby, who was camped below them on Great Bear Lake, and returned with the disquieting news that Mr. Selby, although he knew Jimmie Muskrat and his two companions, had never told the Indian to look out for white men, nor to ask to be introduced to Eskimos. Why, then, had Jimmie schemed to get into this settlement? Why had he taken the northerners to his tribe? Nobody knew; nobody could tell. The Kabluna thought it might only be for the glory of having done something unusual. But Guninana shook her wise head. All her fear of the treacherous enemy flowed back doubled on discovering this trick.
“From lying to murder is but a step,” she moaned. “He who deceives in one thing is faithless in all.”
The family discussed the matter gravely in the privacy of their tent. They argued it at length with Omialik; they deplored it alone. But all agreed it was best not to tell Okak nor to alarm the village.
“We will be moving away from here so soon,” Taptuna said. “Let us go quietly.”