Chapter XXIII: Planning the Long Drive

The message that was holding Patsy’s attention was one from the Canadian Government. It was a bonafide offer from that Government to purchase the first herd of from four to six hundred reindeer that should reach Fort Jarvis.

When Patsy had imparted the exciting news to her, Marian sat long in silent thought. Fort Jarvis, as she well knew, lay some five hundred miles away over hills and tundra. She had just returned from one such wearisome journey. Should she start again? And would this second great endeavor prove more successful than the first? Of all the herds in Alaska, two were closest to Fort Jarvis; Scarberry’s and her own. She had not the slightest doubt that Scarberry would start driving a section of his herd toward that goal. It would be a race; a race that would be won by the bravest, strongest and most skillful. Marian believed in her herders. She believed in herself and Patsy. She believed as strongly in her herd, her sled-deer and her dogs. It was the grand opportunity; the way out of all troubles. That the band of begging natives would not follow, she knew right well. Nor would the mysterious persons of the purple flame camp; at least, she hoped not. As for their little herd range, if they sold their deer, Scarberry might have it, and welcome; if they did not sell, they could doubtless find pasture in some far away Canadian valley.

“Yes,” she said in a tone of decision, “we will go. We will waken the herders at once. Come on, let’s go.”

As they burst breathlessly into the cabin of their Eskimo herders, they received something of a shock. Since all the work of the day had long since been done, they had expected to find the entire group of four assembled in the cabin, or asleep in their bunks. But here was only old Terogloona and Attatak.

“Where’s Oatinna? Where’s Azazruk?” demanded Marian.

“Gone,” said Terogloona solemnly.

“Where? Go call them, quick!”

Terogloona did not move. He merely shrugged his shoulders and mumbled:

“No good. Gone long way. Bill Scarberry’s camp. No come back, say that one.”

“What!” exclaimed Marian in consternation. “Gone? Deserted us?”

“_Eh-eh_,” Terogloona nodded his head. “Say Bill Scarberry pay more money; more deer; say that one Oatinna, that one Azazruk. No good, that one Bill Scarberry, me think.” He shook his head solemnly. “Not listen that one Oatinna, that one Azazruk. Say wanna go. Go, that’s all.”

“Then we can’t start the herd,” murmured Marian, sinking down upon a rolled up sleeping-bag. “Yes, we will!” she exclaimed resolutely. “Terogloona, where are the rifles?”

“Gone,” he repeated like a parrot. “Mebby you forget. That one rifle b’long herder boys.”

“And your rifle?” questioned Marian, “where is your rifle?”

“Broke-tuk. Hammer not want come down hard. Not want shoot, that one rifle, mine.”

Marian was stunned with surprise and chagrin. She and Patsy returned silently to their igloo.

“Oh, that treacherous Bill Scarberry!” she exploded. “He has known this was coming. He knew our herders were energetic and capable. He thought if they remained with us, we might beat him to the prize; so he sent some spy over here to buy them away from us with promises of more pay.”

“And now?” asked Patsy.

“Now he will drive his herd to Fort Jarvis and sell it, and our grand chance is gone forever.”

“No!” exclaimed Patsy, “He won’t! He shall not! We will beat him yet. We are strong. Terogloona and Attatak are faithful. We have our three collies. We can do it. We will beat him yet. Our herd is better than his. It will travel faster. Oh, Marian! Somehow, _somehow_ we must do it. It’s your chance! Your one big, wonderful opportunity.”

“Yes,” exclaimed Marian, suddenly fired by her cousin’s hot blooded southern enthusiasm, “we will do it or perish in the attempt. It’s to be a race,” she exclaimed, “a race for a wonderful prize, a race between two large herds of reindeer over five hundred miles of hills, tundra and forest. There may be wolves in the forests. In Alaska dangers lurk at every turn; rivers too rapid to freeze over and blizzards and wild beasts. We will be terribly handicapped from the very start. But for father’s sake we must try it.”

“For your father’s and for your own sake,” murmured Patsy. “And, Marian, I have always believed that our great Creator was on the side of those who are kind and just. Bill Scarberry played us a mean trick. Perhaps God will somehow even the score.”

An hour was spent in consultation with old Terogloona. His face became very sober at the situation, but in the end, with the blood of youth coursing eternally in his veins, he sprang to his feet and exclaimed:

“_Eh-eh!_” (Yes-yes) “We will go. Before it is day we will be away. You go sleep. You must be very strong. In the morning Terogloona will have reindeer and sleds ready. We will call to the dogs. We will be away before the sun. We will shout ‘_Kul-le-a-muck, Kul-le-a-muck_’ (Hurry! Hurry!) to dogs and reindeer. We will beat that one Bill yet.

“You know what?” he exclaimed, his face darkening like a thundercloud, “You know that mean man, that one Bill Scarberry. Want my boy, So-queena, work for him. Want pay him reindeer. Give him bad rifle, very bad rifle. Want shoot, my boy So-queena. Shot at carabou, So-queena. Rifle go flash. Crooch! Just like that. Shoot back powder, that rifle. Came in So-queena’s eyes, that powder. Can’t see, that one. Almost lost to freeze, that one, So-queena. Bye’m bye find camp. Stay camp mebby five days. Can see, not very good. Bill, he say: ‘Go herd reindeer,’ So-queena, he say: ‘Can’t see. Mebby get lost. Mebby freeze’.

“He say Bill very mad. ‘Get out! No good, you! Go freeze. Who cares?’

“So-queena come my house—long way. Plenty starve. Plenty freeze. No give reindeer that one So-queena, that one Bill. Bad one, that Bill. So me think; beat Bill. Sell reindeer herd white man. Think very good. Work hard. Mebby beat that one Bill Scarberry.”

There came a look of determination to Patsy’s face such as Marian had never seen there.

“If that’s the kind of man he is; if he would send an Eskimo boy, half-blinded by his own worthless rifle, out into the snow and the cold, then we must beat him. We must! We must!” said Patsy vehemently.

“That’s exactly the kind of man he is,” said Marian soberly. “We must beat him if we can. But it will be a long, hard journey.”

They had hardly crept between their deerskins when Patsy was fast asleep. Not so Marian. The full responsibility of this perilous journey rested upon her shoulders. She knew too well the hardships and dangers they must face. They must pass through broad stretches of forest where food for the deer was scarce, and where lurking wolves, worn down to mere skeletons by the scarcity of food, might attack and scatter their herd beyond recovery.

They must cross high hills, from whose summits the snow at times poured like smoke from volcanoes in circling sweeps hundreds of feet in extent. Here there would be danger of losing their deer in some wild blizzard, or having them buried beneath the snows of some thundering avalanche.

“It’s not for myself alone that I’m afraid,” she told herself. “It’s for Patsy, Patsy from Kentucky. Who would have thought a girl from the sunny south could be so brave, such a good sport.”

As she thought of the courageous, carefree manner in which Patsy had insisted on the journey, a lump rose in her throat, and she brushed a hand hastily over her eyes.

“And yet,” she asked herself, “ought I to allow her to do it? She’s younger than I, and not so strong. Can she stand the strain?”

Again her mind took up the thought of the perils they must face.

There were wandering tribes of Indians in the territory they must cross; the skulking and oft-times treacherous Indians of the Little Sticks. What if they were to cross the path of these? What if a great band of caribou should come pouring down some mountain pass and, having swallowed up their little herd, go sweeping on, leaving them in the midst of a great wilderness with only their sled-deer to stand between them and starvation.

As if dreaming of Marian’s thoughts, Patsy suddenly turned over with a little sobbing cry, and wound her arms about Marian.

“What is it?” Marian whispered.

Patsy did not answer. She was still asleep. The dream soon passed, her muscles relaxed, and with a deep sigh she sank back into her place.

This little drama left Marian in an exceedingly troubled state of mind.

“We ought not to go,” she told herself. “We will not.” Then, from sheer exhaustion, she too, fell asleep.

Three hours before the tardy Arctic sunrise, she heard Terogloona pounding at their door. She found that sleep had banished fear, and that every muscle in her body and every cell of her brain was ready for action, eager to be away.

As for Patsy, she could not dress half fast enough, so great was her desire for the wonderful adventure.