<h2 id="c18"><br/>CHAPTER XVIII <br/>THE TRAIL OF BLOOD</h2>
<p>That same evening Patsy made her second
startling discovery. An hour before night was
to set in, she had harnessed a sled deer and
struck out into the hills in search of a brown
yearling that had been missing for two days.</p>
<p>“Strange where they all go,” she murmured as
she climbed a hill for a better view of the surrounding
country. “Marian was right; unless
we discover the cause of these disappearances
and put an end to them, soon there will be no
herd. It’s a shame! How I wish I could make
the discovery all by myself and surprise Marian
with the good news when she gets home.”</p>
<p>As she scanned the horizon away across to
the west, she saw a single dark figure on the
crest of a hill.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_147">[147]</div>
<p>“Old Omnap-puk,” she said, taking in with
admiration the full sweep of his splendid antlers.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen him for a long
while. We can’t lose you, can we? And we
can’t catch you,” she said, speaking to the lone
figure.</p>
<p>Old Omnap-puk was neither reindeer nor caribou;
at least this was what Marian had said
about it. She believed that he was a cross-breed—half
reindeer and half caribou. He was large
like a caribou, larger than the largest deer in the
herd. He had something of the dark brown coat
of the caribou, but a bright white spot on his left
side told of the reindeer blood that flowed in his
veins.</p>
<p>But he was very wild. Haunting the edge of
the herd, he never came close enough to be lassoed
or driven into a brush corral. Many a
wild chase had he lead the herders, but always
he had shown them his sleek brown heels.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_148">[148]</div>
<p>Many times the girls had debated the question
of allowing the herders to kill him for food and
for his splendid coat; yet they had hesitated.
They were not sure that he was not a full-blooded
reindeer; that he was not marked and
did not belong to someone. If he was a stray
reindeer, they had no right to kill him. Besides
this, it seemed a pity to kill such a wonderful
creature. So the matter stood. And here he was
on their feeding ground.</p>
<p>As Patsy stood there gazing at this splendid
creature, she slowly realized that the Arctic sun
had flamed down below the far horizon and long
shadows raced out of the West. A full orbed
moon stood just atop the trees that lined the
eastern rim of hills. Turning reluctantly to
leave, her eyes caught sight of a dark spot in
the snow. She bent over to examine it, and a
moment later straightened up with a startled
exclamation.</p>
<p>“Blood! It is a trail of blood. I wonder
which way it goes?”</p>
<p>Unable to answer this question, she decided to
circle until she could find some sign that would
tell her whether or not she was back-tracking.
Satisfied at last of the direction, she pushed on,
and there in the eerie moonlight, through the
ghostly silence of an Arctic night, she silently
followed the trail of blood.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_149">[149]</div>
<p>Suddenly she stopped and stood still. Just
before her was a large discoloration of the snow.
And, though the snow was so wind packed that
she walked on it without snowshoes, her keen
eyes detected spots where it had been broken
and scratched by some hard, heavy object.</p>
<p>Dropping on her knees, she began examining
every detail of the markings. When she arose
she spoke with a quiet tone of conviction:</p>
<p>“This is the track of a man. He has killed
one of our deer and had been carrying it on his
shoulder. Blood dropped from the still warm
carcass. That explains the trail of blood. The
load has become too heavy for him. At this spot
he has laid his burden down. In places the antlers
have scratched the snow. After a time he
has gone on. But which way did he go?”</p>
<p>Once more she bent over. On the hard packed
snow, the sole of a skin boot makes no tracks.
After a moment’s study she again straightened
up.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_150">[150]</div>
<p>“There’s a long scratch, as if he had dragged
the carcass to his shoulder as he started on, and
an antler had dragged for two or three feet.
That would indicate that he went the way I have
been going. Question is, shall I go farther, or
shall I go for the herders with their rifles?” She
decided to go on.</p>
<p>The blood spots grew less and less as she advanced.
She was beginning to despair of being
able to follow much farther, when, with a
startled gesture, she came to a sudden halt.</p>
<p>“The purple flame!” she said in an awed
whisper.</p>
<p>It was true. As she stared down at a little
willow lined valley, she saw the outline of a tent.
From the very center of it there appeared to
burst that weird purple light.</p>
<p>“Well,” she concluded, “I am at least sure
that they’ve killed one of our deer; killed several,
probably. No doubt they have been living off our
herd.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_151">[151]</div>
<p>For a moment she stood there undecided; then,
with reluctant feet, she turned back. It was the
only wise thing to do. She was alone and unarmed.
To follow that trail further would be
dangerous and foolhardy.</p>
<p>But what should she do, once she had reached
her own camp? She was convinced in her own
mind that the slain creature was one of their
deer; yet she could not prove it. Should she lead
her armed herders to the stranger’s tent and demand
an explanation? Oh, how she did wish
that Marian was here!</p>
<p>As she walked homeward she felt terribly
depressed. There was a girl in that tent of the
purple flame. She had seen her. She had hoped
that sometime, in the not too distant future, they
might be friends. Such a friend in this lonely
land, especially since Marian and Attatak were
gone, would be a boon indeed. Now she felt
that such a thing could never be. It was as if
a great gulf had suddenly yawned between
them.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_152">[152]</div>
<p>After reaching her camp and sipping a cup of
tea and munching at some hard crackers, she sat
for hours thinking things through. Her final
decision was that for the present she could do
nothing. Marian might return any day now. In
such matters her judgment would be best and
Patsy did not feel warranted in starting what
might prove to be a dangerous feud.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_153">[153]</div>
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