14 Arctic Adventure (4 page)

Soon they were all chilled to the bone.

To make matters worse, it began to snow. But it was the strangest kind of snow the boys from Long Island had ever known. It did not come down in big flakes. The strong wind ground the flakes into a powder.

‘We call it snow dust,’ said Olrik.

Like dust,.it got into the parkas that covered their heads, inside their fur coats, even into their sealskin trousers, into every pocket, into their boots, and, worst of all, into their eyes, and into their ears, and even their mouths if they dared to open them.

Roger was lagging behind. He was a strong boy but he couldn’t keep up with his twenty-year-old companions. An especially strong gust knocked him over and he lay in the snow. Oh, how good it was to lie down. He didn’t care if he never got up. He was dizzy, tired, and all his natural energy was whipped out of him by this awful wind.

Hal looked back. He could not see his brother because of the dense cloud of flying snow dust. He called, but the screech of the wind was stronger than his shout. He would have to go back and find his brother. That should be easy — he need only follow his tracks.

But he found no tracks. They had promptly been filled by snow. Now, which nunatak had they come around last? He wasn’t sure. He was getting lightheaded.

‘Wait a minute, Olrik. We’ve lost the kid.’

Olrik was only a few feet away but did not hear him. But Olrik saw him stagger. At once he reached out to help him.

‘I can’t see anything,’ Hal said.

‘I know. You’re having a white-out.’

‘What’s a white-out?’

‘It’s a dizzy spell because wherever you look there’s nothing but white —white on the ground, White in the air, and a white sky. It’s all very confusing. Some people have gone crazy in a white-out.’

‘Well, I can’t go crazy because I’ve got to find my brother. If he’s tumbled down in the snow, he may freeze to death. Which way did we come?’

‘I’m not sure. Fact is, I’m having a bit of a white-out myself,’ said Olrik. ‘But I know who can find him.’

‘Who?’

‘The huskies.’

He turned the dogteam about. Perhaps they thought they were going home. They went back as they had come and stopped where Roger lay in the snow. He was unconscious.

Hal pushed and pulled the body. ‘Wake up,’ he said. There was no response.

Olrik was worried. ‘Is he dead?’

Hal pulled off one of Roger’s fur mitts and put his finger where the pulse should be. He could feel nothing. The hand was stiff with cold.

‘I’m afraid he’s gone,’ said Hal.

‘Perhaps not. He’s so cold the circulation has stopped in his wrist. Try his temple.’

Hal put his finger on a point about an inch in front of the boy’s ear. At first he felt nothing. His own fingers were so cold that even if there were a pulse he might not feel it. He put his hand inside his own coat and warmed it up. Then he tried again. He found a very slow, weak throb in his brother’s temple.

‘Thank the Lord,’ he yelled. ‘He’s alive!’

‘That’s great,’ cried Olrik. ‘Too many have died up here. Let’s wrap him up in a couple of caribou hides and put him on the sledge. He ought to warm up and wake up. Perhaps he won’t —but we’ll do our best.’

The boy was bundled up in a caribou skin with the fur side inside. Around this was wrapped another skin with the fur side outside.

‘That’s the way we do it to get the most warmth,’ Olrik said.

The huskies, who had thought they might be going home, were turned about and the trip was continued.

For an hour Roger lay there without moving, his eyes closed. Then warmth and life seemed to steal through his body and he opened his eyes.

‘What am I doing on the sledge?’ he asked. ‘Am I a piece of baggage?’ He tried to throw off the covers.

‘Just try to be baggage for a while longer,’ Hal said. ‘We almost lost you.’

‘I don’t remember anything,’ Roger said. ‘Get me out of here. The dogs have enough to pull without me.

‘Don’t move,’ said Hal. ‘Just pretend you are the King of Siam and this is your golden chariot.’

‘The storm is letting up,’ Olrik announced. ‘Already there’s a bit of blue above. In half an hour we’ll see the sun. Then we’ll stop for lunch.’

‘How can you tell, when it’s lunch-time?’ Hal wondered.

‘By my stomach,’ said Olrik. ‘I don’t really know whether it’ll be lunch-time or dinner-time or midnight. Anyhow, something inside me tells me that it’s time to eat.’

They put up a tent. It was easier than building an igloo every time they stopped. The tent was not made of canvas. It was far better than that. Thick caribou hide with plenty of shaggy hair still on the outside would keep out the cold and would also shut out the sunlight in case they wanted to sleep. The floor was another caribou hide.

‘How about the dogs?’ Roger asked. ‘Don’t they have to be unharnessed?’

‘No,’ Olrik answered. ‘The harness is very light — it won’t bother them. If a bear came around and the dogs were not harnessed they might run away and we’d never see them again. Or they might gang up against the bear and kill it. You wouldn’t want that to happen.’

‘But won’t they freeze to death if they can’t run?’

‘They know how to avoid freezing. Come and take a look at them.’

He took Roger around to the side of the tent. There Roger saw one of the strangest sights he had ever seen in his life.

What he saw was a great heap of dog flesh. The weary huskies had piled up on each other so that every one of them was kept warm by the dogs who pressed against him on both sides or the dogs beneath or above him.

‘Pretty smart dogs to think of that way of keeping warm,’ Roger said. He was about to enter the tent when Olrik stopped him.

‘First get rid of your snow dust,’ he said. ‘It’s all over you. You look like a ghost. If you go into the tent that way and start your little stove, the snow dust that covers you will melt and soak into your clothes. Then if you come out your wet clothes will freeze and you will be-dressed in ice.’

All three began to brush off the snow powder that covered them, blow it out of their noses, take it out of their ears and eyes, dump it out of their pockets, and turn their pockets inside out.

It was only when they were free of the pesky snow dust that they dared enter the tent, light the small portable stove, and eat.

‘All I want to do now is sleep,’ Roger said. Hal and Olrik were quite willing to do just that. Hal was the only one who carried a watch. He took it out and looked at it. It had stopped. Whether he had banged it against some icy nunatak or some snow dust had gotten into it, there was no doubt that it was useless.

‘Well, it doesn’t matter what time it is,’ Hal said. ‘We’re all tired —let’s sleep.’

It was some seven or eight hours later that Roger woke and looked into the face of a polar bear. It had forced its head in between the flaps and seemed to be trying to decide which of these juicy morsels to eat first. Roger had no desire to be a bear’s breakfast. His yell woke up his two companions and they stared with horror and disbelief as the great beast forced its way into the tent.

Olrik felt guilty. He should have brought a gun. But Hal had told him not to because they were not killers.

But the polar bear is a killer and could not live if he were not. He must kill if he wants to eat. What do three non-killers do if they face a killer?

Hal picked up the heavy frying pan and prepared for battle. Before he could land this heavy weapon against the bear’s nose, the unwelcome visitor turned into one who was very welcome. The monster went straight to Roger and rubbed its great furry head against the boy’s shoulder.

‘It’s Nanook!’ cried Roger. ‘Put away the frying pan.’

The bear lay down beside Roger, gargling something that may have been his effort to say, ‘Good Morning’. Roger put his arms around the great furry neck. Both boy and bear were very happy.

‘How did he ever rind us?’ Roger wondered. ‘Our tracks must have been covered with snow.’

Olrik explained. ‘It takes more than snow to defeat a bear’s sense of smell.’

‘I didn’t know we smelled as bad as all that,’ said Roger.

‘Bad or good, it’s all the same to the bear. Two things brought him to you. One was smell — the other was love.’

They fed the bear and then had some food themselves. The three of them went out — the four of them —the bear following Roger.

It was a sparkling morning — if it was morning. The sun was shining bravely. It had of course been shining all the time they were asleep. The thick tent-hides had kept out the light. Now there was no snow dust, no wind. The sky was a great dome of pure blue.

But there was one thing that bothered Roger. ‘We’re supposed to be after animals and we haven’t seen one—except Nanook.’

‘They were all in their holes during the storm,’ Olrik said.

‘I don’t believe there are any animals up here. How could there be? There’s nothing for them to eat — not a sprig of grass, not a leaf, nothing.’

‘They don’t need grass or plants,’ said Olrik. ‘They’re all carnivores, meat-eaters.’

‘Where do they get the meat?’

‘By eating each other. The bear eats the wolf. The wolf eats the wolverine. The wolverine eats the fox, and so on. All these animals eat birds such as the auks, the barnacle goose, the pink-foot goose, the white-tailed eagle, the Greenland falcon, the snow bunting, the snowy owl and the raven. So, don’t worry, there’s plenty of food for everybody.’

‘Well,’ said Roger, ‘I think they’re pretty smart to find it.’

‘You’re right. I saw a fox hole near that nunatak. Come and see how smart the fox is.’

They walked over to inspect the home of the fox. The animal was not present.

‘Look in there,’ said Olrik. ‘See that pile of birds?’

‘They don’t have any heads,’ said Roger.

‘Exactly. Even a fox can’t eat heads. These are all auks. The fox bites off all their heads and piles up the bodies in neat rows, covers them with gravel, and puts stones on top. Then, when winter comes, he has a fine supply of food to last him through the dark months.’

Roger was astonished. ‘I thought animals didn’t have enough brains to think about the future.’

‘Some, like the fox, can plan ahead better than some people do,’ said Olrik.

It was such a lovely day that it seemed nothing bad could possibly happen.

But then it did. There was a wild commotion on the other side of the tent. The boys ran to see what was going on. Three wolves were not eating birds for breakfast. They were attacking the dogs.

‘But they wouldn’t really kill the dogs, would they?’ said Roger. ‘After all, the huskies and the wolves are cousins.’

‘A cousin can kill a cousin,’ Olrik said. ‘Last year wolves killed all seven of my dogs.’

Roger popped into the tent and came out with a pan. He started beating it loudly and sang. It was a sound the wolves had not heard before. With ears erect, they stared at the boy with the pan.

‘See? They’re scared. They’ll run away,’ cried Roger.

The wolves ran, but not away. They attacked the boy with the pan. They had meant to make the dogs their breakfast, but this two-legged nuisance seemed to have plenty of meat on him and would make a good meal.

Hal and Olrik rushed at the wolves, yelling at the top of their lungs. The wild animals did not seem to notice them. Their savage teeth dug into the face and hands of the boy and they began to tear off his clothing. The wolves were the great heavy polar variety and Roger, though strong, could not resist them. They pushed him down on the ice and he lay there, protecting his face with his hands.

Hal began to sing. That was a strange thing to do, but Hal had learned that wolves hate singing. But this time the wolves paid no attention to the song.

Then, around the tent, came the great Nanook. With a roar that seemed to shake the nunataks, he attacked the wolves. In quick succession he swatted all three and they fell in a heap. The swat of a polar bear’s paw is quite as strong as that of a lion. A lion can kill with one blow, and so can the great bear of the north. Two of the wolves were dead, and the third went limping away, howling.

Would the bear eat the breakfast so conveniently placed before him? That would be only natural, but since Nanook had just had his breakfast he left the carcasses where they were to be buried by the next snowfall.

Hal helped Roger to his feet and took him into the tent. He applied antiseptic to the scratches on Roger’s face, then covered them with tape. He bandaged the boy’s hands. Roger did not wince or whine although he was in great pain.

He thought he was being an infernal nuisance to his companions. Yesterday they had been forced to put him on the sledge. Today he would refuse to be treated like a baby. His legs were all right. A scratch had closed one eye but he could see with the other.

He saw Olrik taking food supplies out of the tent and putting them in a pile covered with rocks large enough to keep off animals.

‘Where do these rocks come from?’ Roger asked. Olrik pointed to the high mountains far to the east. There was no ice on them since they were so far up in the air.

‘Rocks keep falling from those mountains.’

‘How do they get here?’

‘You ought to know after yesterday. The terrific winds they have up here can move rocks a few inches every year. That isn’t much—but give them thousands of years and they can travel great distances.’

‘Why did you put all those tins of food under the rocks?’

‘That’s called a cache. A traveller across these wastes leaves a cache of food once in a while so that when he comes back the same way it will be waiting for him and might save him from starvation. We’ll put down several more caches as we go along.’

‘But will we be coming back exactly this way?’

‘Very likely. That’s because the dogs want to get home. They’ll follow the same route they came by. That’s husky intelligence.’

They took down the tent, folded it, and strapped it to the sledge. It was a fine day, although quite a bit below freezing. The sun stayed so low that it gave off very little heat. Everybody was happy, including the fifteen-year-old behind his plasters and bandages.