The Curse of the Viking Grave (6 page)

Back in the cabin once more Awasin lit a candle. “It is safe now,” he reassured his friends. “This man says the plane is at the Idthen Eldeli camp for the night, and the white men are sleeping in a tent beside it.”

“Find out the rest!” Jamie cried impatiently.

For several minutes Awasin and Zabadees talked rapidly together, then Awasin translated.

“There are three white men. One is a policeman. One flies the plane. One is a doctor. The plane also brought Madees—the Chipeweyan who went south for help and almost died at Reindeer Lake. The white men made him guide them north. He did not know there was any trouble. But when they got to Thanout Lake my father managed to talk to Madees and tell him what was happening. My father also sent a message by Madees to me. He said we are to cache our furs and go north now if we can. He said the policeman was angry that you were not at Macnair or Thanout Lake. He thinks they will now search hard for you. He said we are to send Angeline to Denikazi's camp, and he will come for her there in a few days' time.

“Denikazi also sent a message. He too says we are to go north quickly. He sent the two canoes for us, and Zabadees is to go with us to the edge of the Barrens and show us the secret ways. He says the white men saw the smoke from the cabin and in the morning they may come here looking. So we must go at once.”

Jamie and Peetyuk bombarded Awasin with questions and he translated them to Zabadees—but the Chipeweyan could not add much to what he had already said except to say that Denikazi had been as good as his word, and had arranged to lay a false trail. A second Chipeweyan team had quietly slipped away from the camp with Zabadees after the white men went into their tent. The two teams had traveled together by a roundabout route
almost to Kasmere Hill, where the second team had turned off. It was even then being driven up the center of the northwest arm of the lake and it would return the same way before dawn, thus leaving a trail which would appear to originate from Kasmere House. In all likelihood the police plane would follow this false trail. Meanwhile Zabadees was to lead the boys across country over a system of little ponds to the Putahow River. They were then to follow the Putahow north, traveling only at night for the first two laps of the journey.

“Denikazi's sure got it all planned out,” Jamie said admiringly. “Sounds like a heck of a good plan too. What do you fellows think?”

“It is very good,” Awasin answered. “But there is still one problem. What about my sister? We cannot leave her. Nor can she go to the Chipeweyan camp alone.”

“No, and I will
not
go there anyway!” Angeline interjected firmly. “Perhaps they are good people, but I do not know them, and I will not stay with them. I will go with you.”

“You will
not!
” Jamie snapped angrily.

Peetyuk, who had so far said very little, intervened.

“I not know
why
she cannot go, Jamie. She good cook, can paddle canoe, can drive dogs, can do most we can do. We got two canoes. Two fellows go in each. I mean”—he blushed a little—“two fellows in one canoe, one fellow and one girl in other canoe.”

“No! By Harry!” Jamie cried in fury. “No girls!”

“Calm down, Jamie,” Awasin said. “I know what we can do. She can go with us the first part of the way until Zaba
dees turns back. Then he can take her straight to Thanout Lake. I think he will agree to do that. I will ask him.”

When the question was put to him Zabadees took his first real look at the girl. His sharp black eyes lingered on her attractive face and slim body for longer than Peetyuk liked. Finally the Chipeweyan looked back at Awasin and nodded his head.

“I will take her home,” he said.

Since there was no real alternative, Jamie reluctantly agreed. An hour later the whole party was grouped around the cache which Angeline had made with so much labor. She had already tied up the stuff they were to take with them in travel bundles and so in a very short time the sled and carioles were loaded. Then, led by Zabadees's toboggan with its bulky cargo of canoes, the four teams took the trail through the moonlit jackpine forests into the waiting north.

 

CHAPTER
6

Zabadees

I
T WAS PAST MIDNIGHT BEFORE
they moved off, and that left little time to put a safe distance from Kasmere House before dawn. Nevertheless they were forced to travel slowly. Despite the light of the hazed moon it was hard to pick a trail through the dark stands of jackpine. The snow was deep and only lightly crusted, and the heavily laden carioles and sled kept breaking through the crust so that the dogs were soon panting with exertion. None of the party was able to ride. Even Zabadees, whose sled was lightly loaded (the canoes weighed only forty pounds apiece) was forced to walk ahead of his team to break a trail for them.

About 2:00
A.M.
they reached the first of a chain of little lakes which they were to follow, and the going got better. Angeline, who had exhausted herself the previous day, was now so weary she could barely put one snowshoe ahead of the other. She kept up with the rest of them as best she could, and made no complaint. But when they stopped for a brief rest at the end of the first lake, Zabadees gave her a quick glance and spoke briefly to Awasin.

“He says his load is light,” Awasin told his sister. “The going is better now, and he says you can ride on his sled. It would be wise to do that, for you will soon be too tired to keep up on foot.”

Too weary to argue, Angeline obediently slipped off her snowshoes and climbed on the back of Zabadees's sled where she curled up with a deerhide over her.

The teams moved slowly over a low, spruce-covered ridge to the next lakelet. But when they were again on firm, smooth ice, the boys saw that Zabadees was rapidly pulling away from them. They thought nothing of it, for it was easy enough to follow his sled trail; but by the time they had reached the third in the chain of little lakes, he and his team were completely out of sight. They did not see him again until the opalescent light of dawn faded the setting moon and turned the dark blue snow to somber gray. By then they had reached and crossed a deep inlet of Kasmere Lake (staying close to the shore in order to hide their trail) and had come to another bay, from the end of which there was a portage into the Putahow River system.

Zabadees was waiting at the portage. Angeline was still sleeping soundly on his sled.

“He wants to know,” Awasin told Peetyuk and Jamie, “if we should go any farther.”

“I think we can risk another hour on the trail,” Jamie replied. “They'll have to heat up their engine before they take off, and probably they'll eat first. Let's push on a bit. We're still too close to Kasmere House for comfort.”

Zabadees nodded when he was told the decision. He
called to his team and started off at once, leaving the boys to follow without having had time to rest either themselves or their dogs.

They caught up with him again on the fringe of a dense stand of black spruce beside the shore of the southern arm of Fisher Lake. He had already tramped down a trail into the heart of this thicket and soon the teams and sleds were well concealed.

 

The morning broke clear and bright—ideal weather for flying. Keeping their ears cocked for the sound of an aircraft engine, they had a cold breakfast of bannocks and boiled caribou meat. They were all bone-weary, and after feeding the dogs they spread their sleeping robes on piles of spruce boughs and lay down. Peetyuk and Zabadees went to sleep at once, and Awasin and Angeline soon followed them. But Jamie was too tense to sleep.

For a long time he lay, half dozing. The swish of melting snow slipping off the branches of a spruce tree brought him wide awake, his heart pounding heavily. He tried to force himself to go to sleep, but he had hardly begun to doze again when the faintest of sounds—no louder than the hum of a mosquito—jolted him awake once more.

This time there was no mistake. He reached over and shook Awasin. The two boys sat silent, every nerve drawn taut, straining toward the distant sound. Almost imperceptibly it grew louder, and Jamie concluded, with a sick certainty, that the airborne searchers must have spotted their trail. Then, mercifully, the far sound began to fade. Soon there was nothing to be heard in all the silent land
except the guttural cry of a raven soaring high in the empty sky.

“They followed the false trail, Jamie,” Awasin said with a sudden outrush of pent-up breath. “It is all right now. They will not come our way.”

The tension slowly ebbed and at last Jamie drifted into the dark depths of exhausted sleep. He did not wake again until the day was almost done and then he became sleepily aware of someone touching his face. It was Angeline. In her hand she had a pint mug filled with meat soup, for Awasin had risked lighting a small fire. She was smiling uncertainly at him.

Pushing up on one elbow, he took the mug and thanked her perfunctorily. As she turned from him he wondered what she really thought of him, and he felt his conscience prick a little.

During the second night the fugitives made good progress. Their route followed the Putahow, and the lake and river ice, covered with a hard layer of wind-packed snow, made for fast going. At Zabadees's insistent invitation, Angeline again rode the last part of the way on the Chipeweyan's sled, and once more he drew away from the three boys, so that they were nearly an hour behind him in reaching their next camp on the shores of Goose Lake.

A fire was already burning when the boys arrived. Zabadees was not in sight, but Angeline came running out from shore to meet them and they were surprised by the warmth of her greeting. Awasin, who knew his sister better than any of them, was mystified. It was unlike her to be
publicly so demonstrative. But after a quick meal had been eaten and the rest of the boys had gone to feed their dogs, she drew him aside and whispered rapidly into his ear. As he listened, Awasin's face darkened. When, an hour later, Zabadees appeared suddenly from the woods having returned from an unsuccessful hunt for deer, Awasin did not greet him nor did Angeline offer to build up the fire and get him hot food and drink. Zabadees looked speculatively at the two Crees for a long moment, but he said nothing. Having rebuilt the fire, he heated his own meal, then carried it off to where he had unrolled his sleeping robes, some distance away from the others.

“What's the matter with Zabadees?” Jamie asked as he was getting into his own sleeping robes.

“Nothing,” Awasin answered shortly. “The Idthen Eldeli are strange people. They do not mix easily with others.”

“They not so strange,” Peetyuk said. “That fellow he stay with Angeline too much. What for he always go ahead when she on sled?”

“He has a lighter load, that's all, Peetyuk,” Awasin replied. “Anyway, she is well rested now. She will not ride his sled tonight. Now go to sleep, for there is a long road ahead of us.”

 

But they did not start off again that evening. The bad weather which they would have welcomed the previous day came upon them now that they did not want it. A bitter northeaster had begun to blow. By dusk occasional
snow flurries had turned to a steady, driving blizzard which made night travel out of the question. The boys pitched the travel tent and, with a big fire burning at the door, they and Angeline made themselves snug inside. Zabadees did not join them even though Jamie invited him in with hospitable gestures. The Chipeweyan's distant, almost hostile attitude was worrying Jamie.

“We must have done something to annoy him,” he told the others as they snuggled under their robes in the little tent. “I don't like it. If he gets sore he might push off and leave us on our own, and we don't know the road.”

“Let him go,” Peetyuk said loudly. “We not need. Soon come out of trees to my country: I find way then.”

“But we aren't out of the forests yet, Pete. We still need him. I wish I knew what was eating him. You got any idea, Awasin?”

Awasin and Angeline exchanged a fleeting glance; but Awasin shook his head.

“It is nothing. He will be all right. Do not worry about him, Jamie.”

By morning the storm had blown itself out, and after a big breakfast and a leisurely second mug of tea they decided to move on in daylight. It was the best sort of day for traveling. The storm had hardened the snow and a bright sun was thawing the surface just enough so that the carioles and sled glided effortlessly over it. It should have been a day for a record run.

But the day seemed to be full of unexpected halts and setbacks. Twice Zabadees appeared to lose the proper
route and made long detours into dead-end bays. Once he halted unexpectedly, seized his rifle, and went off into the bush for an hour in pursuit of what the boys were sure was a nonexistent deer. To make matters worse he insisted on stopping to boil the tea billy every hour or two.

Peetyuk, who was undisguisedly delighted to find that Angeline had chosen to walk with him at the end of the train, was unperturbed by the slow progress; but Jamie grew increasingly upset. Awasin said nothing, and his face remained expressionless.

About 3:00
P.M.
they left the Putahow system at the east end of Red Sucker Lake and crossed a low ridge to the shores of a new lake which Zabadees, when he was pressed for its name, reluctantly told them was called Dead Men's Lake. It stretched off to the eastward, and in its center was a small, barren rock island. As they descended toward the lake out of the spruce thickets, Zabadees called a halt to the day's journey by stopping his sled and unhitching his dogs. In vain Jamie expostulated with him, through a rather uncooperative Awasin. Nothing would persuade Zabadees to continue on. Finally, when Jamie had reluctantly resigned himself to losing the rest of the day, Zabadees pointed negligently to Angeline and, in his sibilant language, muttered a few quick words.

Awasin's face betrayed nothing of his inner feelings.

“He says he wants Angeline to travel with him. He says there are bad spirits in this country, but she is good luck and makes it easier for him to find the way.”

“Well, let her then,” said Jamie in exasperation. “She
might as well ride as walk. If he believes that stuff about spirits and luck, she might as well make herself useful.”

Awasin's face hardened. “She is my sister, not a dog! She does not wish to ride the sled.” Then his expression softened. “I am sorry, Jamie, but it is better if she does not ride with him.”

“Why not, for heaven's sake? She'll have to ride all the way back to Than out Lake with him anyway.”

Awasin turned away and began to pull the remains of a haunch of caribou off his sled.

“We are getting short on dog feed,” he said, changing the subject. “I have seen much deer sign today. I think it is as well if we camp here and make a hunt.”

Peetyuk had listened closely to the conversation, but had said nothing. There was a strange look on his face. It was no longer amiable. Suddenly he turned to Angeline.

“That fellow speak bad you?” he asked abruptly. “I think he make trouble with you.
Eema
—yes?”

Angeline shook her head so violently that her long hair whirled gleaming in the fading sunlight. “There is nothing wrong, Peetyuk. Come, help me gather wood. Or, please, will you cut some ice for tea water?”

Puzzled and annoyed, Jamie watched the pair walk away. “Girls!” he muttered almost viciously. Then he shrugged his shoulders and began to unload his cariole.

Zabadees sat motionless on his sled. His black eyes followed Angeline with an intentness which might have explained many things to Jamie, if he had been acute enough to observe and understand. But Jamie was too wrapped up in the driving urge to put distance between himself and
Kasmere Lake to be alert to the interplay between the Chipeweyan and the Crees.

 

It was a calm night, touched with the first signs of the spring thaw, and so they did not bother with the travel tent but simply climbed into their sleeping robes. No one was particularly tired and they began talking about the country they were passing through. Peetyuk told a story about how the Eskimos had once tried to establish contact with a white trader who had a post on Thanout Lake.

He described how the most powerful and active of the Eskimos, a man named Kakumee, undertook to make a journey to this trading post even though the Eskimos were in mortal fear both of the Chipeweyans and of the shadowed forests in which the Indians lived. Kakumee started out in mid-winter with a sledload of white fox pelts drawn by twelve great Eskimo dogs. He made fast progress south, following the western shores of Nueltin Lake which the Chipeweyans called Nuelthin-tua—Lake of the Sleeping Islands.

Reaching a certain bay, Kakumee turned up a river leading into the forest country and on his first night amongst the trees he built his camp on a low, rocky islet in a lake, which gave him good observation in all directions. Alone in what had always been enemy country, he slept very lightly indeed, and when just after dawn one of his dogs growled, he was instantly awake.