Lost in the Barrens by Farley Mowat
Peetyuk had not suspected the boys’ presence in Hidden Valley, but during the early winter he had roamed the area south of Idthen-seth in the faint hope that he might encounter the people who had made the caches at Stone Igloo Camp. That was the reason that he had built the little travel igloo on the plains, at a central point from which he could roam to the west and south. It was this igloo that had saved the lives of Jamie and Awasin when the blizzard caught them.
CHAPTER 26
The Eaters-of-Raw-Meat
A YEAR EARLIER NEITHER JAMIE nor Awasin would have believed that one day they would be sitting in a huge snowhouse surrounded by at least thirty of the fur-clad people who, for centuries, the Indians had considered to be no better than bloodthirsty savages. But this is what the boys were doing the day after their meeting with Peetyuk.
Peetyuk had lent them three of his dogs, and with these and with Ayuskeemo and Fang the little sled fairly flew over the hard-packed snows following Peetyuk.
The two sleds headed southeast and they traveled for five hours at an unbroken pace. At length they reached the snow-covered Kazon, which Peetyuk called Innuit-ku—the River of Men. After an hour on the river ice, they rounded a point and came upon a settlement of seven igloos huddled under a high cut-bank.
Nearly fifty dogs broke into a frenzy of excitement as the sleds approached, and from each igloo a crowd of people rushed outside. They came laughing and yelling down to where the sleds had drawn up and they surrounded Peetyuk, while casting curious glances at the two strange boys who stood a little way apart, uncertain what to do.
The Eskimos talked so hard that the babble was deafening, but at last Peetyuk led the way to where Jamie and Awasin waited. Peetyuk beamed at them and waved a hand at the milling crowd that was bubbling over with curiosity and high spirits. “My people. Your friends!” Peetyuk shouted. He beckoned the boys to follow and led the way to the largest of the snowhouses.
The entrance tunnel was ten feet long and only three feet high, so that the boys had to stoop to enter it. Halfway along was a niche built into one wall in which a female husky nursed a litter of newly born pups. On shelves cut in the snow were chunks of meat, and piles of fur clothing.
When the boys reached the igloo proper they stood up under a dome ten feet high and fifteen feet across. The whole back half of the circular floor was raised three feet high on snow blocks and covered with caribou hides to make a combination couch and bed.
To the boys’ surprise, the inside of the igloo was uncomfortably warm, though it was below zero outside. Three fat lamps burned in niches near the wall, and so perfect was the insulation of the snow blocks that almost no heat was lost.
The sleeping bench was soon crowded with people who swung themselves up and sat grinning cheerfully at the newcomers. Foremost of the Eskimos was a sturdy old man with thin, straggling whiskers and a mop of lank black hair. He had a broad, flattened nose and high cheekbones. His eyes were black and almost hidden under his wrinkled forehead.
He stood before the boys smiling at them and he spoke slowly, while Peetyuk translated.
“This place is yours,” he said. “Eat with us. Sleep with us. Your home now.”
While the old man was speaking, three women appeared from other igloos, each lugging a pot. A big wooden tray was laid on the sleeping bench and into it the women poured boiled caribou tongues, boiled ribs and a thick soup. Another pot nearby held gallons of hot Labrador tea. The Eskimos on the bench made room for Jamie and Awasin, and moved over giggling and laughing as the boys clambered up. “Eat!” Peetyuk said, and set the example by seizing a deer tongue hungrily.
They ate until they could eat no more. Then they leaned back comfortably to listen while Peetyuk told the story of finding the strange boys. Men, women and children crowded into the igloo until it was so full there was hardly room to move. Delightedly they listened, applauding loudly, and nearly laughing themselves into hysterics when they heard how Awasin had greeted Peetyuk.
Now Peetyuk introduced his friends, naming each Eskimo individually. At last he came to the old man who was obviously the owner of this igloo. “Kakut,” Peetyuk said. “My father-father.”
“He means grandfather, I think,” Jamie whispered to Awasin.
Peetyuk reached out and caught the arm of a broad-faced, happy-looking woman. Peetyuk grinned affectionately. “This is my m—” He stopped, forgetting the word. The woman came to his rescue. “Me his mutta,” she said smiling. “Fatha dead many winters. White man—like you,” and she pointed at Jamie.
When the introductions were finished, Kakut got out a stone pipe and loaded it with some kind of dried leaves. When it was drawing well he passed it to the boys. Neither Jamie nor Awasin had smoked before, but they felt they should make the effort. After a puff or two of the acrid smoke they burst into paroxysms of coughing. The Eskimos watched in amazement for a moment, then began to howl with laughter, rolling on the floor and rubbing their sore stomachs.
“One thing certain,” Jamie said a little ruefully to Awasin, “these people act about as dangerous as puppies. They’re a dam sight better-natured than the Chipeweyans!”
For many hours the activity in the igloo was sustained. There were songs, there was more laughter than either boy had ever heard at one time before. The boys did their best to be gay too, and Peetyuk worked hard interpreting for them. But at last the heat, the good food and the long journey began to make them so sleepy they could hardly stay awake.
With a few words Kakut cleared the igloo of all except his own family. Jamie was sleepily aware that someone was covering him with a robe, then he drifted off knowing he was among friends.
And so ended the great adventure that had begun at the camps of Denikazi almost six months earlier. In the camps of the inland Eskimos the long months of danger, of difficulty and of loneliness had come to their conclusion.
A week after their arrival at the Eskimo camps Jamie and Awasin were again heading south. But this time they were not alone.
Many conferences with the Eskimos had at last convinced old Kakut that it would be safe for his men to venture into the forbidden lands of the Indians. On a bright January day three sleds raced southward on the frozen Kazon River. First there was Kakut’s twenty-foot sled, with Awasin riding on it to act as guide once they left the familiar lands of the Eskimos.
Jamie and Peetyuk followed on the boys’ little sled, but with all of Peetyuk’s dogs helping Fang and Ayuskeemo. Behind came the sled of one of Peetyuk’s older cousins.
The trip was an easy one, for the Eskimos had always known the secret that Jamie learned so belatedly out on the frozen plains when he and Awasin were stricken with snow blindness. The Eskimos knew that they must always travel with the forces of the land—and never fight against them.
The party traveled in fair weather only. When storms threatened they halted at once and built comfortable travel igloos in which they could stay for days if necessary. However, the weather remained fairly good, and on the ninth day the black line of the forests appeared on the horizon.
Awasin and Jamie now took the lead and guided the dog teams down White-Partridge River. They swung well around the camps of Denikazi, however, for they suspected that the sudden appearance of the Eskimos would throw the Chipeweyans into blind panic that might result in trouble.
One January afternoon they crossed the broad stretches of Kasmere Lake, and drove up the Kasmere River to the head of Thanout Lake, where they halted for the night.
As the Eskimos built fires of spruce—big, generous fires were a source of surprise and pleasure to them after the “little sticks” of the Barrens—Jamie and Awasin took Peetyuk to the ruins of Red-Head Post. From this place a young man filled with great courage and a desire to explore the north had set out nearly twenty years ago, never to return.
“Your father’s igloo,” Jamie said.
Peetyuk looked for a long time at the heap of fallen logs, and when he turned away his eyes were glistening. “Peetyuk come ho
They did not notice that old Kakut had come up through the darkness. Then the old man spoke, and though Jamie and Awasin did not understand the words they guessed their meaning.
“The son goes to his father’s land,” Kakut said, “and leaves his mother’s land in the place of memories. Peetyuk was my heart’s son—but he is of your blood. Take him, and let the love of brothers be between you.” Kakut took his grandson’s hands and placed one in Jamie’s and the other in Awasin’s.
Then he smiled gently at the three boys, and turning away, vanished in the darkness.
Jamie awoke the next morning to find Awasin shaking him violently.
“They’ve gone!” Awasin cried. “Kakut and the other Eskimos have gone!”
It was true. During the night the two Eskimo sleds had vanished silently into the north, leaving behind them Peetyuk and his two new friends. Peetyuk himself was awake and sitting on a nearby log beside a dead fire, staring northward.
Awkwardly Jamie laid an arm over the boy’s shoulders. “Never mind, Peetyuk,” he said. “Someday soon we’ll all three go back and visit with your mother’s people.”
Peetyuk stood up and smiled. “That is good,” he said. “Now let us go to your people there.” He pointed down Thanout Lake, and far in the distance the boys could see the tiny blue smoke plumes of the fires at the cabins of the Crees.
CHAPTER 27
The Return
A YOUNG COUSIN OF AWASIN’S SAW the sled as he was getting water from an ice hole in the lake. He stared hard at the object coming toward the settlement. The wolflike dogs and the strange fur-clad figures looked to him like something from one of the old spirit legends, and suddenly he dropped the pail and fled up the slope.
In a few minutes the shore was lined with people. The men watched the approaching sled uneasily and the children were frankly frightened. The sled was within a hundred yards of shore when Marie Meewasin recognized her son.
What followed was pandemonium. In a moment Marie had caught both Jamie and Awasin against her ample bosom and was almost squeezing the Me out of them while she alternated between crying and scolding. Cree youngsters ran screaming the incredible news among the cabins, and the crowd by the sled kept growing until the whole population was gathered there. The cries and questions and shouting made a babble of sound that was nearly deafening.
It was some time before anyone could talk sensibly, but then Awasin caught his father’s arm and led him to the sled, where Peetyuk had been sitting timidly during the excitement of the arrival.
“This is Peetyuk,” Awasin said. “His father was the trader who disappeared from Thanout Lake. It was Peetyuk and the Kazon Eskimos who saved our lives, and now he has come south to live.”
Alphonse’s dark face broke into a broad smile. He took Peetyuk’s hand.
“Today my son came back from the shadow world,” he said. “I know a great happiness because of this. It is the greater happiness because he has brought me yet another son.”
The Crees standing near gave a shout of welcome and crowded close to pat Peetyuk on the shoulder. Then with Jamie on one side and Awasin on the other, he was led up to the Meewasin house.
Later that day a toboggan hauled by a dozen exhausted dogs careened into the camp. The driver was an Indian who had been dispatched to Macnair Lake the instant the boys were recognized. With him was Angus. For several minutes the big Scotsman could only clasp Jamie’s hand and mutter, “Thank God it’s true!”
That night was an endless one. In the Meewasin cabin the stove glowed red while Marie outdid herself cooking piles of golden bannocks and plate after plate of fried deermeat and whitefish. Every chair and bench was occupied and tobacco smoke hung like a fog. The three boys sat near the stove. Surrounding them, the Cree elders and Angus Macnair listened fascinated as the story was told. It was past dawn before anyone had thought for sleep.
The next day, when the excitement had died down a little, Jamie and Awasin learned what had happened after they were lost. They heard how Denikazi had visited Angus and Alphonse and had actually offered his own life in payment for the loss of the boys. Angus told how he and Alphonse had gone north by canoe to Idthen-tua, where freeze-up caught them and forced them to return. Alphonse told of a dog-team expedition under Denikazi’s leadership that had continued the search in late November but had found no sign of life. Even as the boys drove into the Cree camp, Alphonse and Angus had been preparing yet another trip, this time to find the fabled inland Eskimos and question them.
The knowledge of the pain their adventure had caused to others cast something of a shadow over the boys’ spirits, but it could not last, for everyone was so delighted to see them back that there could be no recriminations.
Peetyuk was not forgotten. Angus had known his father, Frank Anderson, very well and had often stayed with him at Red-Head Post. He was able to tell Peetyuk much about his father and his father’s life.
“Frank was a good friend to me,” he concluded, “and as for you, Peetyuk, you’ll come and live with us as long as you will stay.” So it was arranged, and for some years to come Jamie and Peetyuk lived together almost as brothers.
Angus was particularly interested in the boys’ story of the Great Stone House, and he examined the lead tablet carefully.
“It will take an expert to be sure,” he said when he was through, “but I’ve no doubt you’ve guessed correctly about the Vikings. Next summer we’ll take a trip to yon Stone House. I’ve a mind to visit Peetyuk’s people too, for I’m thinking I have a debt to pay them. What do ye say, lads?”
What Jamie, Awasin and Peetyuk had to say resulted in many a long winter night spent beside the stove of the Macnair cabin making plans. But as to what came of those plans—that is another tale.
BOOKS BY FARLEY MOWAT
People of the Deer (1952, revised editions 1975, 2005)
The Regiment (1955, new edition 1973, paperback edition 1989)
Lost in the Barrens (1956)
The Dog Who Wouldn’t Be (1957)
Grey Seas Under (1958)
The Desperate People (1959, revised edition 1975)
Owls in the Family (1961)
The Serpent’s Coil (1961)
The Black Joke (1962)
Never Cry Wolf (1963, new edition 1973)
Westviking (1965)
The Curse of the Viking Grave (1967)
Canada North (illustrated edition 1967)
Canada North Now (revised paperback edition 1976)
This Rock Within the Sea (with John de Visser) (1968, reissued 1976)
The Boat Who Wouldn’t Float (1969, illustrated edition 1974)
Sibir (1970, new edition 1973)
A Whale for the Killing (1972)
Wake of the Great Sealers (with David Blackwood) (1973)
The Snow Walker (1975)
And No Birds Sang (1979)
The World of Farley Mowat, a selection from his works
(edited by Peter Davison) (1980)
Sea of Slaughter (1984)
My Discovery of America (1985)
Virunga: The Passion of Dian Fossey (1987)
The New Founde Land (1989)
Rescue the Earth! (1990)
My Father’s Son (1992)
Born Naked (1993)
Aftermath (1995)
The Farfarers (1998)
Walking on the Land (2000)
High Latitudes (2002)
No Man’s River (2004)
Bay of Spirits (2006)
THE TOP OF THE WORLD TRILOGY
Ordeal by Ice (1960, revised edition 1973)
The Polar Passion (1967, revised edition 1973)
Tundra (1973)
EDITED BY FARLEY MOWAT
Coppermine Journey (1958)
Copyright © by Farley Mowat, 1956
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, ele
Canadian trade and school paperback editions published by arrangement with Atlantic-Little, Brown
School edition Notes and Activities copyright © by McClelland and Stewart Limited, 1973
Adventure Library edition: 0-7710-6553-1
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Mowat, Farley, 1921-
Lost in the barrens
eISBN: 978-1-55199-185-6
I. Geer, Charles. II. Title.
PS8526.089L68 1987 C813’.54 C87-094473-8
PR9199.3.M69L68 1987
We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and that of the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Media Development Corporation’s Ontario Book Initiative. We further acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program.
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Farley Mowat, Lost in the Barrens