The three were dead. It made him
shudder--one with a tiny bullet hole squarely between the eyes,
and the others crushed by the blows of the club. His hand fondled
Celie's little revolver--the pea-shooter he had laughed at. After
all it had saved his life. And the club--
He did not examine too closely there. From the man he had struck
with his naked fist he outfitted himself with a hood and temiak,
or coat. In the temiak there were no pockets, but at the waist of
each of the dead men a narwhal skin pouch which answered for all
pockets. He tossed the three pouches in a little heap on the snow
before he searched for weapons. He found two knives and half a
dozen of the murderous little javelins. One of the knives was
still clutched in the hand of the Eskimo who was creeping up to
disembowel him when Celie's revolver saved him. He took this knife
because it was longer and sharper than the other.
On his knees he began to examine the contents of the three
pouches. In each was the inevitable roll of babiche, or caribou-
skin cord, and a second and smaller waterproof narwhal bag in
which were the Kogmollock fire materials.
Pages:
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206