It was getting late, and still we saw no deer--in fact, I was losing my
interest in deer very rapidly, and only hoped I might soon see a tupic.
After we had walked about fifteen miles, "Sam" pointed out a mountain
that did not seem so very far off, and said, "Io wunga tupic sellow"
(My tent is there). This was refreshing, and I plodded along still more
determinedly. I would have given anything to have been back in my own
tent, but that was out of the question. It was farther to go back than
to go ahead, and though every bone in my body ached I plodded along,
frequently stopping to rest. I thought we had passed the mountain that
"Sam" had pointed out, and finally I ventured to ask him where the
tupic was. His answer was invariably, "Con-i-tuk-vo-loo" (A little way),
and I began to weary of the monotony of the answer, as probably he did
of the question, until at last, in a valley farther off than I had
originally thought the mountain, I saw the tupic. The approach was by
a circuitous route, the wind still blowing so strongly against us that
each took his turn in leading, the others crouching behind the slight
shelter thus afforded. And this was a pleasure trip! When we finally
did reach the tent, I received the kindly welcome of old "Molasses"
and his wife, and dropped down on some deer-skins, completely used up.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41