<h2 id="c6"><br/>CHAPTER VI <br/>A JOURNEY WELL BEGUN</h2>
<p>Two hours before the tardy dawn, Marian
and Attatak were away. With three tried and
trusted reindeer—Spot, Whitie, and Brownie—they
were to attempt a journey of some hundreds
of miles. Across trackless wilderness they must
lay their course by the stars until the Little
Kalikumf River was reached. After this it was
a straight course down a well marked trail to
the trading station, providing the river was
fully frozen over.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_61">[61]</div>
<p>This river was one of the many problems
they must face. There were others. Stray dogs
might attack their deer; they might cross the
track of a mother wolf and her hungry pack
of half grown cubs; a blizzard might overtake
them and, lacking the guiding light of the stars,
they might become lost and wander aimlessly on
the tundra until cold and hunger claimed them
for their own. But of all these, Marian thought
most of the river. Would it be frozen over, or
would they be forced to turn back after covering
all those weary miles and enduring the
hardships?</p>
<p>“Attatak,” she said to the native girl, “they
say the Little Kalikumf River has rapids in it
by the end of a glacier and that no man dares
shoot those rapids. Is that true?”</p>
<p>“<i>Eh-eh</i>,” (yes) answered Attatak. “Spirit
of water angry at ice cut away far below. Want
to shoot rapids; boats and man run beneath that
ice. Soon smashed boat, killed man. That’s all.”</p>
<p>It was quite enough, Marian thought; but
somehow they must pass these rapids whether
they were frozen over or not.</p>
<p>“Ah, well,” she sighed, “that’s still far away.
First comes the fight with tundra, hills and
sweeping winds.”</p>
<p>Patting her reindeer on the side, she sent him
flying up the valley while she raced along beside
him.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_62">[62]</div>
<p>These reindeer were wonderful steeds. No
food need be carried for them. They found
their own food beneath the snow when day was
done. A hundred miles in a day, over a smooth
trail, was not too much for them. Soft snow—the
wind-blown, blizzard-sifted snow that was
like granulated sugar—did not trouble them.
They trotted straight on. There was no need to
search out a water hole that they might slake
their thirst; they scooped up mouthfuls of snow
as they raced along.</p>
<p>“Wonderful old friends,” murmured Marian
as she reached out a hand to touch her spotted
leader. “There are those who say a dog team
is better. Bill Scarberry, they say, never drives
reindeer; always drives dogs. But on a long
journey, a great marathon race, reindeer would
win, I do believe they would. I—”</p>
<p>She was suddenly startled from her reflections
by the appearance of a brown-hooded head not
twenty rods away. Their course had led them
closer to Scarberry’s camp than she thought.
As she came out upon the ridge she saw an
Eskimo scout disappearing into the willows from
which a camp smoke was rising.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_63">[63]</div>
<p>Marian was greatly disturbed by the thought
that Scarberry’s camp would soon know of her
departure. She had hoped that they might not
learn of her errand, that they might not miss
her from the camp. For Patsy’s sake she was
tempted to turn back, but after a moment’s
indecision, she determined to push forward.
There was no other way to win, and win she
must!</p>
<p>An hour later she halted the deer at a fork
in the trail. Directly before her stood a bold
range of mountains, and their peaks seemed to
be smoking with drifting snow. Blizzards were
there, the perpetual blizzards of Arctic peaks.
She had never crossed those mountains, perhaps
no person ever had. She had intended skirting
them to the north. This would require at least
one added day of travel. As she thought of the
perils that awaited Patsy while alone with the
herd, and as she thought of the great necessity
of making every hour count, she was tempted to
try the mountain pass. Here was a time for
decision; when all might be gained by a bold
stroke.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_64">[64]</div>
<p>Rising suddenly on tip-toe, as if thus to
emphasize a great resolve, she pointed away to
the mountains and said with all the dignity of
a Jean d’Arc:</p>
<p>“Attatak, we go that way.”</p>
<p>Wide-eyed with amazement, Attatak stared at
Marian for a full minute; then with the cheerful
smile of a born explorer—which any member
of her race always is—she said:</p>
<p>“<i>Na-goo-va-ruk-tuck.</i>” (That will be very
good.)</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_65">[65]</div>
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