Harluk and Kroo saw this strange apparition first, and fled to the right and left with yells of superstitious fear. On it came, tearing across the snow, right toward the outlaw Eskimos and their victims. The two about to murder hesitated and lowered their rifles.
“What is it? What is it?” asked the men of the bearskins, one of another, and the reply was but one word, “Ghost.”
Harry heard and saw, and quick-wittedly took advantage of the opportunity. He struggled to a sitting position and shouted in Eskimo: “Come, spirit! I, the wizard, command you. Come and burn them with great fire. Come fire spirits all, and burn them.”
The strange figure of flame seemed to obey his words. It rushed, roaring and capering, at them. It was too much for the Eskimo mind to stand. The men who had themselves posed as ghosts were astonished at this far greater apparition than they could make. With one impulse of panic fear they turned and fled inland, leaving weapons and shedding their bearskins to hasten their flight. Nor did they stop till they had disappeared beyond the ridge.
The dancing figure of flame stumbled and stopped almost at the feet of Joe and Harry. There was a groan, and it lay motionless, while the flames flickered for a moment and then went out.
For some time Joe and Harry struggled with their bonds, but at last Joe slipped his and released Harry. They looked the field over. Konwa lay motionless where he had fallen. They examined the blackened figure that had been their flame deliverer, and finding it to be the carcass of a bear, guessed the strange accident that had set them free at the very moment when their case seemed hopeless. They shouted for Kroo and Harluk, and by and by the two came, hesitatingly. The sorrow of these two at the death of Konwa was genuine but undemonstrative. They were willing to believe that the battle had been with men clad in bearskins, but their theory of ghost wolves was in no wise shaken. Yes, there was the carcass of a scorched bear on the snow. They saw that, but they had also seen a fire spirit dancing and roaring across the snow. This spirit might have tipped over the kerosene kettle and burned the bear, but to say that the bear was the spirit was foolish. They knew enough about wizards and their work to know better than that. The white men were certainly great ankuts as well as good fighters. They had driven away the ghost wolves for the night, and they had brought forth a spirit of fire that had driven away men, or ghost wolves changed into men. Anyway, the spirit of the white man was evidently much the stronger, and they would have no fear as long as Joe and Harry were by.
Thus reasoned Harluk and Kroo. The two boys saw that it was of no use to argue with them and wisely let the matter stand. They gently carried the body of Konwa back to the igloos, and Joe and Harry stayed with their friends till daybreak. They had collected the weapons that their enemies had dropped in their flight, and they stood watch lest they return, but they saw nothing more of them. Joe’s head was slightly cut and somewhat bruised from the blow he had received, and it ached, but otherwise he was uninjured, and he made light of the whole matter. There was no sign of the foe during the remainder of the night, nor did the ghost wolves howl again.
At daybreak, fully armed, they made a careful survey of the ground. The Eskimos, having no fear of the Nunatak people or their messengers as long as the sun was shining, turned out to a man. They found near the beach, in a big drift behind a sheltering ridge of ice, the igloo into which Harry had fallen. It seemed a temporary affair, built, perhaps, for the use of the outlaws in a future attack on the ship, or for a convenient hiding-place while they terrorized the Eskimos. Joe had no recollection between the time he was felled by the chunk of ice and the time he came to in the igloo and feebly joined Harry in his struggle there. The place was empty, except for one bearskin, evidently shed during the fight, that its wearer might have more freedom. An examination of this pelt showed the ingenuity of the outlaw Ankuts. The carcass had been taken from it through a slit beneath. This left the skin of the hind legs and feet intact, with the claws on. Walking in this bearskin suit, a man would leave the trail of an animal with claws, and be nearly invisible in the night, the white skin being so like the snow in color. Slipping along the drifts, they could thus play all sorts of pranks on the superstitious Eskimos with little fear of detection, and, as we have seen, even a white man could be much puzzled by their antics.
The party warily followed the tracks inland. The blowing, fine snow had nearly obliterated them in spots, but they found them again. Moreover, they found two more bearskins, shed in the hurry of flight. A mile inland they found also a larger and more carefully made igloo, with traces of dogs and a sled. The marks showed that the outlaws had hastily harnessed up their dog team and gone on, with all their belongings, straight toward the interior. This probably ended them, so far as the little community at Icy Cape was concerned, and they returned to the igloos, taking the three bearskins with them. They were excellent pelts; and Joe, after declaring the Eskimos to be half owners in them, proceeded immediately to buy out their share. The Eskimos recognized this even-handed justice, and admired and respected the boys for it. But when Joe tried to make them see how foolish it was to believe in ghost wolves and the evil spirits of the ice, the Nunatak people, they listened politely, but smiled incredulously. Had the boys not fought with them and heard them howl? Yes, there were bad men, too; but how did they know but the Nunatak people changed their wolves into bad men and then back again at pleasure? Thus the matter ended.
They buried Konwa the next morning. Harry thought they should read the service for the burial of the dead over him, but Joe vetoed it. He said that the Eskimos had funeral ceremonies of their own, and they ought not to be interfered with. They placed Konwa on a small walrus hide, dressed in his best furs, with his walrus-gut rain-coat over all. At one hand was his sheevee, or big knife, in the other the walrus spear with which he had made his last charge, and beside him were his plate and cup. On the very top of the ridge they laid him, carried thither by the men of the village, while his widow wailed loudly in the igloo. They brought stones from a ledge, blown bare by the wind, and piled these in a little cairn above him. Then they walked three times around him, chanting a weird chant, while the widow still wailed in the igloo. Reaching the igloo on their return, they walked three times around this, and chanted again, while the widow wailed more loudly. Then the chanting ceased, the wailing was cut off with equal abruptness, and the little village resumed its round of daily life.