Lost in the Barrens Read Online Free PDF

Perhaps they will come to the Killing Place in time—but we cannot wait for them. By Kasmere Lake my people starve. And to the north, somewhere there is meat. Therefore I shall go north and find that meat. It is better for hunters to die on the trail than to wait like children in the camps.”
    Then Denikazi told them of his plan. He and three of his men would go back down Idthen-tua to the western arm, then up it to its end. Old tribal legends told of a chain of lakes that led northward from there to the high blue hills of To-bon-tua—the lake that never thaws. The River of the Frozen Lake began under those hills—one of which could be clearly seen from the present camp.
    This hill loomed up almost due north of the Killing Place, perhaps thirty or forty miles away. Beyond it to the west the River of the Frozen Lake lay in a great valley down which—so it was said—all the deer of the entire northern plains came pouring in the fall.
    Denikazi was certain that if he could reach the valley he would be able to fill his canoes with meat.
    Jamie listened fascinated as Awasin explained Denikazi’s plan. Then he asked a question.
    â€œWouldn’t it be quicker and easier to reach the valley simply by going north up the Kazon, then portaging west to the mountain we can see from here?” he asked.
    â€œBeyond this camp the Kazon belongs to the Eskimos,” Denikazi replied. “We stand on the very edge of theirlands and to go farther into it would mean an end to all our hunting.”
    Denikazi looked at Jamie and Awasin. “As for you,” he said, “you will stay here. Telie-kwazie and Etzanni will remain with you, and for six days you will wait at the Killing Place for the deer. If they do not come within that time, you will travel south to the mouth of the western arm of Idthen-tua and wait for me there. If, in fifteen days, my canoe does not come to you, then you will go home—alone. And at Kasmere Lake you will tell my people that we hunted a good hunt before we died.
    â€œYou will not try to follow me,” Denikazi continued. “And should you see any signs of Eskimos you will abandon this camp as if the devil Wendigo was on your heels, and flee into the south.”
    When the chief and his five companions had left the camp, and their canoes were only tiny black spots on the distant water, Jamie spoke his mind to Awasin. “We promised we wouldn’t follow him, but that doesn’t mean we can’t look for the deer on our own. Anyway I’m not going to sit here for six days just looking at those two Chipeweyans!”
    It was very rarely that Awasin grew angry. This time he did. “Sometimes you chatter like a child!” he exclaimed. “You know nothing about this land, but Denikazi knows it well. You are like the weasel that climbed into the cook-stove to see if it was hot, and got roasted for his trouble!”
    Realizing that Awasin was seriously annoyed with him, Jamie changed the subject. But he did not change hismind. “Let’s go for a little hunt,” he suggested the next day, “not far—just to see if we can shoot some ducks.”
    Awasin accepted this idea and he explained it to the two Chipeweyans who had been left behind. They were young men, hardly in their twenties, disgusted at being left out of the deer hunt. They sat sullenly beside the fire and sulked.
    But when the boys returned, the two Chipeweyans greeted them with enthusiasm. Jamie had shot two ptarmigan—arctic partridge—and Awasin a third. The Idthen men were hungry for fresh meat and the boys gave each a whole bird.
    After the meal the four sat about the fire feeling well fed for the first time in many days. Telie-kwazie was rather a talkative man—for a Chipeweyan—and Awasin prodded him into telling a story.
    Between sentences Awasin translated for Jamie, who was particularly interested in the legends about the country. Telie-kwazie