It was a wild and desolate land towards which the three komatiks or sledges, had pointed their noses. Such a trip as only the hardiest white men ever take. Even then they have an escort of Eskimos and go well equipped. But to the hardy Child of the Snow, it was just another exciting adventure in his adventurous life. There were few landmarks that would have helped a white man. But the Eskimo has a wonderful bump of location, and this is almost as good as a compass. It also enables him to draw very accurate maps of any country he has visited. But strangely enough he has little idea of distance.
In this desolate land there was almost no timber just a few creeping willows and reindeer moss. This was interspersed with a wild medley of rocks, large boulders and small stones. Cliffs and ledges intersected the trail and made the going about as hard as travelling upon Mother Earth could well be. The country had a wild unfinished look where the face of the earth showed at all. This was upon high precipitous hills where the arctic winds had full sweep.
Eiseeyou and his sledge led the way. Although a young man, Eiseeyou was the most skillful and successful hunter in Eskimo town. He was also a famous guide. He could go and come over these frozen barren lands in the arctic night almost as well as any of the other Eskimos could in the full glare of day.
So this was why he led the little caravan. He was closely followed by his friend, Tukshu, while Tunkine, whose dog team was not so fast, usually trailed a score of rods behind.
For hours the three komatiks lurched and slid after the straining dogs, their three drivers ever on the alert, sometimes swinging the team this way or that with a crack of the long whiplash. The winds howled and the snow beat in their faces, which were white with frost, and the dogs' muzzles were white with the frost from their own breath.
The three Eskimos usually ran beside the komatiks. This was partly to keep their feet from freezing, and also to lighten the load. When they were tired, they would jump on and ride for a mile or two; but for the better part of the way they ran.
The pace at first was seven or eight miles an hour, but it soon slowed down to four or five, which was maintained for the greater part of the day. But it took nerve and strength and many lashes from the long sinister whip to keep up this pace.
The Eskimo is merciless as far as his dog team is concerned. He drives with both the lash and the butt of his whip. He never pets his dogs or shows them any kindness. The slightest misbehavior on the part of the team brings terrible punishment.
It is no strange occurrence, when a dog gets vicious in the traces, for his driver to club him to death with the butt of his whip. But they usually obey implicitly. They have learned in this hard school that it pays. Wild hard conditions such as those under which the Eskimo lives breed brutality, but this brutality never extends to the Eskimo's family which he treats most tenderly.
Once they stopped in the lea of a cliff to eat some raw meat which was partly frozen and to rest the dog teams. But it was not for long. The dogs when in harness are always restless. If left too long, they get to fighting and tangle up the traces. So after a quarter of an hour the procession plunged on through the white silence.
There were few signs of life. They had seen some foxtracks, also some snowshoe rabbit tracks. A few ptarmigan had been flushed. But for the greater part it was just a mere waste of snow and jagged rocks, desolate beyond the power of words to paint.
Occasionally they scanned the landscape for Omingmong.
When they came to a high hill, some one of the party would climb to its very top and look in every direction for signs of Omingmong. But nothing was seen of him that day.
Toward the middle of the afternoon a terrible blizzard struck the little party. The snow blew so that the drivers could scarcely see the dog teams. It came so suddenly that they had no time to get to cover. For a few minutes they struggled blindly, Eiseeyou's bump of locality standing them in good stead. With great generalship he led the three sledges into a sheltered valley where the storm did not beat so badly. But even here it was difficult to see fifty feet away. The cold also increased, and the party decided that they could go no further that day.
So they tunneled into a hard snowbank and made a very comfortable snow house. That is, they thought it comfortable, for it sheltered them from the wind and kept out some of the cold.
The dogs also were quick to burrow in, and half an hour after they had decided to stop for the night only the three komatiks showed that a hunting party was hidden somewhere in the snow drifts.
The men soon satisfied their appetites, which were like wolves, with raw meat while the dogs were fed their allowance of dried fish. They talked for a while and inquired of each other as to what the kooners and the children in the igloos in Eskimo town might be doing. But this was not for long. They had travelled over forty miles that day. Much of the way the going had been very bad, and they were tired.
Soon sleep claimed them. They slept just as peacefully in the heart of a snow bank as they would have in the igloo at home. Meanwhile Omingmong the musk ox the one who had caused all this trouble was peacefully munching reindeer moss a few miles away to the north west.
The Musk Ox is the least known of all the large North American animals. This is because he ranges so far northward and it is only since 1900 that specimens have been taken captive and brought to civilization to be studied. His range is around the arctic circle, from sixty-nine degrees to seventy-five.
Commander Peary shot a musk ox within half a mile of the northern point of Greenland, the most northerly land in the world.
Although Omingmong has the name of musk ox yet he possesses some sheep characteristics. His hair is so long that his outline is quite hidden. The outer hair is nearly a foot in length and brushes on the snow when he walks. It also nearly hides his rather slight spindle legs. Imagine, if you can, an animal about four and a half feet tall and six and a half long, covered with a thick long coat which hides all but the face and the strange horns and you have a fairly good picture of Omingmong. His horns are really quite as characteristic as the rest of his queer makeup. On the forehead they are very much flattened, so that they form a sort of helmet for the head.
In the middle line of the forehead they meet, but flare out again lower down, and finally flare out still more and upward.
At the point, they are very sharp and deadly when Omingmong is enraged. The Eskimo dog teams who bring him to bay have discovered this to their sorrow.
The color of Omingmong's coat is a dirty yellow brown and one of the two species has a gray band across the forehead.
On the back he has a saddle mark of darker hair. His tail which is only three inches long is hidden in the long hair.
These wonderful hides with the outer hair a foot long upon them, and a thick fine under coat at the skin, make a robe unsurpassed in the animal kingdom. It is with such robes as these that the Eskimo sleeping benches are spread in midwinter. The flesh of Omingmong is also very good eating. It is only when the meat is allowed to stand too long before dressing that it has the musky quality the name indicates.
So it was both for food and raiment that Eiseeyou and his hunting party had come.
Omingmong usually goes in herds of from twenty to fifty head, although smaller herds are often encountered. So if the Eskimo sights the coveted prize he usually finds more than one.
How this strange animal subsists in this frozen snow-covered barren land is one of the mysteries of nature. After allowing him all the creeping willow and saxifrage and dried grass that he can paw out from under the snow, yet it is strange how he keeps in good flesh where any other cloven-hoofed animal would starve. Mother Nature has given him the secret and he guards it well.
Promptly on the following day, although there was little to indicate where one day began and another left off, Eiseeyou and his party dug out of their snowbank, ate some raw meat themselves, fed the dog teams their frozen fish, and were off, much refreshed by their night's sleep in the snowbank with the thermometer from thirty to forty degrees below zero.
They travelled as they had the day before, Eiseeyou going ahead and the other teams following his lead. Every half mile or so they stopped to reconnoiter, for they were now approaching the land of Omingmong and must go cautiously. For six weary hours they scoured the country, Eiseeyou making several detours to explore likely musk ox feeding ground.
At last their patience was rewarded just as such patient plodding always is. The two Eskimos travelling behind noticed that Eiseeyou had brought his komatik to a stand. So they stopped and watched his motions. He stood for several seconds shading his eyes with his hand and looking intently to the north west. Finally he motioned them to come forward. When the two other komatiks were alongside, Eiseeyou informed his companions that he had discovered Omingmong—only two head feeding half a mile away but there were probably more near by. He would go to the top of the hill and reconnoiter while the others minded the dog teams.
It seemed to his companions that Eiseeyou would never return. They had travelled so far and endured so much hardship to reach Omingmong that they were eager to get at him.
Finally Eiseeyou returned his face wreathed with smiles.
He had discovered the entire herd, a dozen strong. They were not over three quarters of a mile away.
So the excited hunting party got out their rifles and made ready while Eiseeyou led the way with his fleet dog team.
They proceeded by stealth as far as possible but finally they came out in the open and the herd sighted them and were off.
Then they lashed their dog teams to their best pace and the chase was on.
At first the sledges did not seem to gain, no matter how hard the teams ran, but finally after about five miles they drew up to within a quarter of a mile of the herd. Then Eiseeyou gave the word to cut loose the dogs, and the exciting part of the chase began.
The worst enemy that Omingmong has to fear in his frozen north, next to man, is the great white wolf. This terrible wolf is closely related to the gray timber wolf found further south. He is the corsair of the north and woe betide the quarry that this blood thirsty wolf trails. He hunts in packs of from five to twelve members and can run to earth or bring to bay almost anything that runs upon four legs. He hunts the musk ox, the reindeer and even the fleet snowshoe rabbit, while many a ptarmigan he noses out of the new snow and kills with a single crunch of his powerful jaws.
So when Omingmong first notices the pack of Eskimo dogs trailing him, he probably concludes that it is a wolf pack, gone foolish. For the white wolf always pursues silently, while the Eskimo pack often yelps with savage glee, especially when the musk ox has at last been brought to bay.
As soon as the traces were cut, the Eskimo sledge dogs were off at a wild pace. One never would have thought they had been on the trail for the better part of the last thirty six hours.
They spread out like the wolf pack to keep Omingmong's little herd from spreading. This likewise enabled them to cut across at either end, if the quarry turned sharply, and thus gain ground. For two miles the trail led across open country, although it was very rocky and rough. Eiseeyou, Tukshu, and Tunkine followed on foot. Finally the hotly pursued little herd came to a mountain with very steep sides. The winds had blown the loose snow from it and it was covered with a glare crust nearly as slippery as ice. Up the sides of this shining steep the musk ox herd scrambled, running like mountain goats or bighorn sheep. Nor did the yelping pack stop at the ascent.
_1.png)
Up they scrambled, slipping and sliding, but holding on in some way and keeping close to the terrified musk ox herd.
Nor did the three Eskimos pause when they reached the bottom of the hill and looked up its shining slippery slopes. It was a climb for which a white man would have needed creepers and an Alpine staff, but not so the hardy Eskimo. He had come seventy-five miles through the snow and the storm, and now he was not going to be held up at the very hour of victory by any ascent, no matter how hard or dangerous. Up the three intrepid hunters went, Eiseeyou leading the way. How they found foothold was a mystery. They clung where there was seemingly nothing to cling to. Like flies their feet and hands seemed to cling to the slippery slopes. Higher and higher they went as the musk ox herd fled.
Once Eiseeyou stopped for a moment and looked down. It made a shiver run through even his steely nerves. What if he should slip or ever get started down the mountain. There would certainly be mourning in his igloo. After that he kept his face resolutely looking upward towards the fleeing omingmongs.
Finally at the top of the mountain with their shaggy backs to a cliff the musk ox herd came to bay.
Many hard battles with the white wolves had taught both the musk ox and the reindeer herds that their only safety when brought to bay in this manner was in presenting a solid front of horns to the enemy. If it had been merely a question of the yelping snapping Eskimo dogs, they would have beaten them off easily.
This was plainly evidenced by the fact that when Eiseeyou arrived on the scene one of the younger dogs who had never seen Omingmong before had paid the price of too much valor with his life. He lay in the snow beneath the hoofs of a mighty bull gored to death, while another limped towards Eiseeyou fatally wounded.
Eiseeyou did not at once begin firing into the herd. They were all bunched against the wall and the dogs held them safely so he waited for Tukshu and Tunkine, The Eskimo is very fair in his division of the kill. They often give a portion of the kill to those present, even though they take no active part. When his two companions at last arrived, the three formed in a half circle perhaps a hundred feet from the herd. It was not sportsmanlike, but simply a killing for meat. It was meat and hides that they were after, so they did their work with their high power modern rifles as quickly as possible. In almost as short a time as it takes to tell it the herd of Omingmongs were kicking in the snow all dead or mortally wounded.
But one tragic thing occurred which was not on the hunter's program. The herd had come to bay very close to the further side of the mountain, so that when the firing was nearly over the last three musk ox managed to struggle to the edge of the mountain and when shot toppled over the side and went sliding like woolly toboggans down the mountainside.
The half starved Eskimo dogs, who had been driven frantic by the smell of blood were quick to notice the three Omingmong sliding down the mountain far from the reach of the hunters. So without waiting to see if they were to share in the kill near at hand, they all started slipping and sliding after the dead musk ox which were now a score of rods out on the plain.
With a groan Eiseeyou noted their intent. These three Omingmongs were the very largest of the herd. Their beautiful robes would be torn to shreds. The best of the meat would be eaten before they could arrive on the scene. He should have guarded against it.
Then a wild thought came into the mind of the intrepid hunter.
This side of the mountain was not as steep as the one they had climbed. It was a hair-raising slide. There might be obstacles in the way that he could not see, but these robes at the bottom of the mountain must be saved.
So he cried to his companions, "The dogs! They spoil robes and meat. I will go to stop them."
With these words he tightened his belt and took the cartridges from his rifle.
His companions remonstrated with him. They told him he would surely be killed. They reminded him of his kooner and his children in the igloo in Eskimo Town. But Eiseeyou was firm.
He had made up his mind. He would go. So he gripped his rifle that he might use it as an Alpine staff to guide his downward plunge, shook off his companions, and squatting down slipped over the icy slope.
The way in which he gained speed amazed and terrified him. Almost before he knew it, he was slipping down the mountain side like a streak. A shower of ice and snow came rattling down behind him, but he left these smaller bits far behind.
Out and in among the rocks he guided his perilous flight by thrusting his rifle muzzle against the icy crust. Several times he barely missed jagged boulders that suddenly flashed in his path. Once he plunged over a sheer drop of fifteen feet and thought he was lost. If he failed to keep his erect position and started to travel head first, or sideways, he would surely be dashed upon some rock. It was only by guiding his course with the greatest skill and dexterity that he had thus far gone safely. But with a great effort he gained his feet again and went plunging on to the bottom of the hill.
The frightful slide down the mountainside had been nearly half a mile, but in about fifteen seconds after Eiseeyou had slipped over the crest, he stood up and waved his rifle to his two companions. At the sight they crossed themselves and gave a deep sigh of relief.
He reached the three musk ox which had taken the plunge ahead of him just in time to beat off the dogs and save the robes for his igloo. He then sat down upon one of the carcasses to rest. It had been a frightful experience, but he was glad he had taken it. His children and his good kooner would be warm and comfortable because he had been brave. Besides it would be a great story to tell on wild nights when the winds howled outside and the snow blew in white sheets. Yes, he would be a hero in Eskimo Town. At the thought a pleasant grin overspread the face of Eiseeyou and his brave heart was very glad.
He had added one more laurel to his reputation as a mighty hunter.