e natural game, so to speak, was bears and
walruses, and he was on his way back when this rattle of musketry
arrested him.

The sudden eruption of it was not more puzzling to him than its abrupt
cessation. Could it be that some of his tribe had followed him to the
river and fallen in with the men of the woods? He thought it not
unlikely, and that, if so, his assistance, either as fighter or
peacemaker, might be required.

Bolting the remainder of the willow-grouse precipitately, he jumped up,
grasped his weapons, and made for the coast, as near as he could guess,
in the direction of the firing.

It happened, at the same time, that one of the young Indians, who was on
his first war-path, and thirsted for scalps as well as distinction,
chanced to keep a more easterly direction than his fellows, when they
took to the bush, as already related. This man, coming to an open glade
whence he could see the shore, beheld the Eskimo women launching their
oomiak in a state of frantic alarm. They were also signalling or
beckoning eagerly as if to some one in the woods. Casting a hurried
glance to his right, he observed poor Rinka, who had just got clear of
the forest, and was running towards her companions as fast as her short
legs could carry her.

Without a moment's hesitation, he took aim at her and fired. The poor
girl uttered a loud shriek, threw up her arms, and fell to the ground.
It chanced that Cheenbuk was within a hundred yards of the spot at the
moment, but the bushes prevented his seeing what had occurred. The
report, however, followed by the woman's shriek, was a sufficient spur
to him. Darting forward at full speed, he quickly cleared the underwood
and came suddenly in view of a sight that caused every nerve in his body
to tingle--Rinka prostrate on the ground with blood covering her face
and hands, and the young Indian standing over her about to operate with
the scalping-knife.

The howl of concentrated rage and horror uttered by Cheenbuk instantly
checked the savage, and made him turn in self-defence. He had run to
finish his horrible work, and secure the usual trophy of war without
taking time to re-load his gun, and was thus almost unarmed. Grasping
his powder-horn he attempted to rectify this error--which would never
have been committed by an experienced warrior,--but before he could
accomplish half the operation, the well-aimed spear of Cheenbuk went
whistling through the air, and entering his che