<h2 id="c24"><br/>CHAPTER XXIV <br/>CAMP FOLLOWERS</h2>
<p>It was just as Marian was tightening the
ropes to the pack on her sled that, happening
to glance away at a distant hill, she was reminded
of Patsy’s latest story of the purple
flame. From the crest of that hill there came
a purple flare of light. Quickly as it had come,
just so quickly it vanished, leaving the hill a
faint outline against the sky.</p>
<p>“The purple flame,” she breathed. “I wonder
if we can leave those mysterious camp-followers
of ours behind?”</p>
<p>On the instant a disturbing thought flashed
through her mind. It caused an indignant flash
of color to rise to her cheek.</p>
<p>“I wonder,” she said slowly, “if those mysterious
people are spies set by Bill Scarberry to
dog our tracks?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_197">[197]</div>
<p>“They may start with us,” she smiled to herself,
as she at last dismissed the subject from
her mind, “but unless they really are Bill Scarberry’s
spies and set to watch us, they’ll never
finish with us. Camp-followers don’t follow
over five hundred miles of wild trail. They’re
not that fond of hard marching.”</p>
<p>In this conclusion she was partly wrong.</p>
<p>Just as the sun was painting the distant
mountain peaks with a gleam of gold, the collies
began to bark and the broad herd of reindeer
moved slowly forward. Marian and Patsy
touched their deer gently with the reins, and
they were away.</p>
<p>It was with a distinct feeling of homesickness
that Marian turned to look back at the campsite.
She had spent many happy hours there.
Now she was leaving it, perhaps forever. What
was more, she was leaving the tundra; the
broad-stretching deer pastures of the Arctics.
Should their enterprise succeed, she would pass
over one of the Canadian trails, southward to
the States and back to the University. Should
they fail, she might indeed return to the tundra,
but she knew it could never be the same to her.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_198">[198]</div>
<p>“We must not fail,” she told herself, clenching
her hands tight and staring away at the
magnificent panorama which lay before her.
“We must not! Must not fail!”</p>
<p>As she saw the reindeer, a mass of brown
and white moving down the slope, a feeling of
sadness swept over her. She had come to love
these gentle and half-wild creatures of the
North. She was especially fond of the sled-deer,
her three; the spotted one, the brown one,
and the white. Many hundred miles had she
driven them. Nowhere in the world, she was
sure, could there be deer who covered more
miles in a day, who were quicker to recognize
the pull of rein, more willing to stomp the tiresome
nights away at the ends of their tethers.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_199">[199]</div>
<p>Dearest of all were the three collie dogs;
Gold, Copper and Bronze, she whimsically
named them, for their coats were just what
their names indicated. Copper and Bronze were
young dogs. Gold was the pick of the three;
an old, well-trained sheep dog. Accustomed to
the sunny pastures of California, he had been
brought to this cold and barren land to herd
reindeer. With the sturdy devotion of his kind,
he had endured the biting cold without a whimper,
and had gnawed his toes, cut by the crusted
snow, in silence. He had done the work assigned
to him with a zeal and thoroughness that
might have shamed many a human master.</p>
<p>“These, too, I must leave,” she told herself.
“Worse than that, I am leading them out into
wild desert. Within a week that beautiful herd
may be hopelessly scattered; our sled-deers killed
by wolves; our dogs—well, anyway, they will
never desert us. Together we will fight it out
to the bitter end.”</p>
<p>A lump came into her throat. Then, realizing
that she was the commander of this expedition
and that it was unbecoming of commanders to
betray emotion, she quickly conquered her feelings
and gave herself over to the work of assisting
in keeping the herd moving steadily forward
in a compact mass.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_200">[200]</div>
<p>Five days later, with their herd still moving
steadily on before them, and with hopes rising
high because of the continued success of their
march, they found themselves crossing a succession
of low-lying, grass-covered hills. As
they reached the crest of the highest of these,
and arrived at a place where they could get an
unrestricted view of the tundra that lay beyond,
an exclamation escaped Marian’s lips.</p>
<p>“A forest!” she exclaimed.</p>
<p>“A real Arctic forest,” echoed Patsy. “Won’t
it be wonderful!”</p>
<p>“Wonderful and dangerous,” Marian replied.
“Unless I miss my guess, here is where our
troubles begin. It may not be so bad, though,”
she quickly amended, as she saw the look of
fear that came over her cousin’s face. “That
forest is fully ten miles away. The sun is about
to set. We’ll drive our herd down into the
tundra where there is plenty of moss. We’ll
camp there, and get up for an early start in
the morning. The forest may be only a narrow
belt along a river.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_201">[201]</div>
<p>Marian did not feel very sure that her predictions
would prove true, but she was the sort
of person who measures all perils carefully, then
hopes for the best.</p>
<p>Two hours later they were eating a meal of
reindeer stew and hot biscuits, which had been
cooked over a willow-wood fire in their Yukon
stove. Then as they chatted of the future,
Marian held up a finger for silence.</p>
<p>“What was that?” she whispered. “A
shot?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t—”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes. There’s another!”</p>
<p>Marian was up and out of the tent in an instant.</p>
<p>As her eyes swept the horizon they caught
a gleam of light from the hills above, the red
and yellow light of a camp-fire.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_202">[202]</div>
<p>With one sweeping glance she took in the position
of her herd. She had just noted that
a certain brown deer had strayed some distance
up the hill. She was about to suggest to Terogloona,
who had also been called from his tent
by the shots, that he send a dog after the deer,
when, to her great astonishment, she caught a
flash of light, heard a sharp report, then saw
the brown deer crumple up like an empty sack
and drop to the snow.</p>
<p>For one instant she stood there as if in a
trance, then with a quick turn she said:</p>
<p>“Patsy, you stay with Attatak. Terogloona,
you come with me.”</p>
<p>Turning, she walked straight toward the
spot where the reindeer had fallen. The faithful
Terogloona, in spite of his fear of the Indians
of the Little Sticks, followed at her heels.</p>
<p>When they arrived at the spot, they found a
man bending over the dead deer. In his hand
was the rifle that had sped the bullet. The
soft-soled “muck-lucks” that Marian and Terogloona
wore made no sound on the snow. The
man’s back was toward them and they came
upon him unobserved. The powerful Terogloona
would have leaped upon his back and
thrown him to the snow, but Marian held him
back.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_203">[203]</div>
<p>“Stranger,” said the girl, in as steady a voice
as she could, “why did you kill our deer?”</p>
<p>Like a flash the man gripped his rifle as he
wheeled about. Then, seeing it was a girl who
spoke, he lowered his weapon.</p>
<p>Marian’s eyes took him in with one feeling
glance. His face was haggard, emaciated. His
hands were mere skin and bones. He was an
Indian.</p>
<p>“Too hungry,” he murmured, “No come caribou.
No come ptarmigan. No fish in the river;
no rabbits on the tundra!” He spread out his
bony hands in a gesture of despair.</p>
<p>“But you needn’t have killed him. Had you
come to us we would have given you meat, all
you could use.” The girl’s face was frank and
fearless, yet there was a certain huskiness in
her voice that to the sensitive ears of the Indian
betokened kindness.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_204">[204]</div>
<p>“Yes,” he said slowly, “maybe you would.
Yesterday we saw other reindeer herd, north
mebby ten miles. Want deer; ask man, big
man, much whiskers; say want food. Man
said: ‘Get out!’ Want’a kill me if I not go
quick. Bad man, that one. We go way. Then
see your herd. Say, take one deer. You want
to fight, then fight. Better to die by bullet
than by hunger.”</p>
<p>“The man you saw,” said Marian, her heart
sinking as she realized that he must be a half
day in the lead, “was Bill Scarberry. Yes, he
is a mean man. But see! Have you a cache?
Some place where you can keep meat from the
wolves and wolverines?”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes!” exclaimed the Indian eagerly.
“Ten miles. Diesa River, a cabin.”</p>
<p>“How many deer must you have to keep you
until game comes?”</p>
<p>“Mebby—mebby,” the Indian stared at her
in astonishment, “Mebby two, mebby three.”</p>
<p>“All right,” said Marian, “you have killed
a fine doe. That was bad, but I forgive you.”
She held our her hand to grasp the native’s
bony fingers.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_205">[205]</div>
<p>“Now,” she said briskly, “since you have
killed her, you may keep the meat. Terogloona,”
she turned to the Eskimo, “point out two young
bucks, the best we have. Tell him he may kill
them and that he and his friends may take them
to their cabin.”</p>
<p>“I—I—” the Indian attempted to speak.
Failing utterly, he turned and walked a few
steps away, then turning, struck straight away
toward the spot where the red and yellow campfire
gleamed.</p>
<p>“That is his camp?” asked Marian.</p>
<p>Terogloona nodded silently.</p>
<p>“They will come for the meat, and will give
us no further trouble?”</p>
<p>“<i>Eh-eh</i>” smiled the Eskimo. “The daughter
of my master has acted wisely. The man who
starves, he is different. These reindeer,” he
waved his arms toward the herd, “they belong
to my master and his daughter. When men
are not starving—yes. When men are starving—no.
To the starving all things belong.
Bill Scarberry, he remember yet. Indians of
Little Sticks, they never forget.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_206">[206]</div>
<p>As Marian turned to retrace her steps to
camp, she chanced to glance up at the other
camp where, but an hour before, she had seen
the flash of the purple flame. It was closer
than she thought. The flash of flame was gone,
but she was sure she caught the outlines of a
tent; surer still that she saw a solitary figure
atop a nearby knoll. Sitting as if on watch,
this solitary man held a rifle across his knees.</p>
<p>“I wonder why he is there?” she said to
herself, “I wonder why they are following us?”</p>
<p>“Oh,” she breathed as she walked toward
camp, “it’s so tantalizing, that purple flame and
all! I have half a notion to take Terogloona, as
I did with that Indian, and march right up to
them and demand the meaning of their mysterious
actions!”</p>
<p>As if intending to turn this thought into
action at once, she stopped and turned about.
To her surprise, as she looked toward the crest
of the hill, she saw the solitary watcher was
gone.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_207">[207]</div>
<p>“Oh, well,” she sighed, “we have no real
reason for invading their camp. We’ve no
proof that they’ve ever done us any harm; except,
perhaps the time that Patsy saw the
blood-trail and the antler marks in the snow.
It seems that it must have been our deer, but
we never could prove it.”</p>
<p>Glancing away at a more distant hill-crest,
she was surprised at the picture revealed there.</p>
<p>The moon, just rising from behind the hill,
threw out in bold relief the broad-spreading
antlers of a magnificent creature of the wilderness.</p>
<p>“Old Omnap-puk!” said Marian. “What
do you think of that? We have traveled five
days, and yet we are still in the company of
the mysterious camp-followers of the purple
flame and old Omnap-puk, the caribou-reindeer
who has haunted the outskirts of our camp so
long.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_208">[208]</div>
<p>“I suppose,” she said thoughtfully, “that I
should tell Terogloona to have the Indians kill
Omnap-puk. That would save one of our reindeers,
and besides, if we let him live, who knows
but that at some critical moment he may rush
in and assume the leadership of our herd and
lead them to disaster, or lose them to us forever.
I have heard of that happening with
horses and cattle. Why not with reindeer?
And yet,” she sighed, “I can’t quite make up
my mind to do it. He is such a wonderful fellow!”</p>
<p>The time was to come, and that very soon,
when she was to rejoice because of this decision.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_209">[209]</div>
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