Joe and Harry entered the igloo and sat down on the bench. The doorway was not blocked again, but the two Ankuts stood just outside, rifle in hand, as if on guard. A little later one of the Eskimo servants appeared bearing on a flat slate stone the head of an old seal. This he placed on the floor in the middle of the igloo, looking appealingly at the boys, but hastening away without a word. Then two Ankuts appeared, each leading by the leash three heavy-chested, wide-jawed dogs that snarled and fought one another as they came. These six dogs were hurriedly released at the igloo door and driven in. Then the Ankuts again blocked the entrance with the heavy, flat slate stones, making it much more secure than before; so secure, in fact, that escape from within would be well-nigh impossible. Then one of them cried out in a loud, jeering voice:—
“This is the feast, O white men, to which you are bidden,—the feast of the old seal’s head. Eat and be merry,—and there shall be nothing but bones left.”
The sound of retreating footsteps was drowned in the snarling and scrambling of the six wolf dogs, already fighting in a blurred mass in the centre of the igloo over the old seal’s head.
The Eskimo wolf dog that one sees in Arctic Alaska is quite different from the Eskimo dog of the Yukon and the lower mining camps on the great northwest possession. The latter are more often mongrels, interbred with all sorts of dogs from civilization, and lack much of the robust fierceness of the Arctic type. On the desolate northern shores the pure type is much like the gray wolf, and is no doubt a descendant from him, sometimes intermixed with latter-day blood from the same source. Indeed, it used to be no uncommon thing in the Eskimo villages to see a captured wolf tied to a stake in the village and used for breeding purposes. The usual color is a dingy gray black; sometimes almost pure black, as is the occasional wolf. These dogs are large, very agile, and have a jaw that is full of great teeth and as strong as iron. Ordinarily, when well fed, they are not vicious; oftentimes they are even frolicsome, like the civilized dog; yet such is the strength of their iron jaws that even a playful nip from them is a serious matter, and hence the Eskimos never encourage them to sportiveness. Neither do white men who have once experienced a grip from those jaws. Their wolf blood, while making them hardy and strong, gives them an understrain of fierceness which is apt to make them dangerous neighbors, especially when hungry. Their fights among themselves are tremendous and bloody, and at such times a man who would separate them must enter the combat armed with a heavy weapon capable of laying one out at a blow. Otherwise his own life is in danger. It was six magnificent specimens of this type that were walled into the igloo with the boys and were already battling fiercely at the feast of the old seal’s head. Purposely left unfed since the boys arrived, they were in a ferocious mood. Joe and Harry drew together and tried hard to make themselves very small against the wall at the farthest corner of the igloo. As yet the dogs paid no attention to them, and after the seal skull had been well polished and the battle subsided, they still were unmolested. Yet the intent of their captors was evident. Such is the cruel custom that has come down in the traditions of the Ankuts of Eskimo land from time immemorial. The enemy of the wizards is put to the feast of the old seal’s head. If he survives, he, too, is a wizard, and wins the equal respect of the tribe. If he is not a wizard, in very truth, his polished bones are all that remain when the igloo is opened and the famished wolf dogs are taken out.
Harry had felt fear and discouragement before in the midst of his strange adventures in this strange land, yet never had terror possessed him so completely as now. In the gloom of the igloo he could see the glare of the eyes of the savage creatures as they crouched on the floor, half lazily, yet half ready for a spring, and he expected every moment that one would attack him. This he well knew would be the signal for a rush from them all, for the instinct of the wolf pack is strong even in the most docile Eskimo dog, and when one fights they all do. He could feel the quiver of Joe’s elbow where it touched his as they shrank to the igloo wall side by side, and knew that his consciousness of the danger was equal to his own. Yet though filled with a dumb terror of what was to come, neither lost his self-control. Their hardy, independent life, the dangers and disasters which they had already faced, had bred in each the courage of strong men, the self-reliance of pioneers, and, though their case was desperate, neither was willing to think that it was hopeless. Quietly Joe was feeling with one hand along the rough stones of their prison. By and by he found something, and passed it over to Harry without a word. It was a long, angular piece of the slaty rock, something like a rude stone hatchet. Such a weapon might save a man’s life. Yet it could save but one. The man who wielded it might escape in the mêlée which was liable to come at any moment. It was a slim chance, but it was all there was. The weaponless man would be torn to pieces. Harry felt the devotion and courageous self-sacrifice which could make this priceless gift to a friend at such a moment, and his heart swelled within him as he clasped Joe’s hand in the dim light. He tried not to take this rude weapon, but Joe pressed it on him, and after a little he consented, mentally resolved that he would wield it in Joe’s defense in preference to his own. It is such deeds and such resolves that try the temper of men’s souls and prove them truly noble.
Time passed, how slowly only those who have faced similar terrors can tell. Moments seemed to stretch out into hours that in turn became an eternity. It seemed to Harry as if he were growing numb with waiting, and he had wild thoughts of forcing the attack with his primitive weapon. He even suggested it to Joe, who promptly vetoed the idea. Their low voices seemed to rouse the dogs and make them more uneasy, and they said no more. By and by, in the passing of what seemed weeks, they began to hear sounds from outside. It was a low murmuring, which grew louder into sounds of hilarity. There seemed to be shouts and laughter and the rude music of tom-toms. The Ankuts were feasting in celebration of the cruel death which they thought might be already coming to their enemies. About this time both pricked up their ears with a vague feeling of hope. Somebody or something was scratching and working at the wall of the igloo outside,—the wall directly behind them and toward the low bluffs that rimmed the little valley. The change from dull expectation of calamity to a thought of hope sent a thrill of energy through each. Yet there was renewed danger in it, too, for the sound roused the wolf dogs, and made them more restless. They began to growl and move uneasily about. It was an ominous moment. Then there was the scraping of a stone, and a bar of light shone into the gloom of the igloo, bringing with it a voice,—the voice of Harluk. It was tremulous with excitement and apprehension.
“Oh, my brothers,” it cried, “are you there?”
“Yes, yes,” answered Joe. “Quick! Something to fight with.”
The need was indeed great, for the six wolf dogs were already crouching and snarling. Another moment would bring the conflict which they so feared. Quick as a wink Harluk’s hand was thrust through the aperture with his sheevee, his long knife, in it. Joe snatched this with a cry of delight. It was long, heavy, and keen,—an admirable weapon for a fight to the death at close quarters. The flash of this knife in their faces had its effect on the pack. They drew back and hesitated. In their lives they had learned well the prowess of a man with a weapon in his hands; and the wolf dog of the tribes is as wise as he is fearless.
Joe took a single step, coolly, toward them. “Help Harluk,” he said briefly to Harry; “I’ll keep these devils at bay. But for God’s sake, hurry!”