ith the intention of crossing the river. The
Esquimaux had perceived this, and keeping themselves and their kayaks
concealed until most of the animals were in the water, and the leaders
of the herd more than two-thirds over, they then gave chase, and getting
between the deer and the opposite shore, cut off their retreat, and
drove them towards their encampment.

Here the slaughter commenced, and Stanley and Frank arrived at the scene
of action while they were in the midst of the wholesale destruction. In
all directions the kayaks, with their solitary occupants, were darting
about hither and thither like arrows in the midst of the affrighted
animals; none of which, however, were speared until they were driven
quite close to the shore. In their terror, the deer endeavoured to
escape by swimming in different directions; but the long double-bladed
paddles of the Esquimaux sent the light kayaks after them like
lightning, and a sharp prick on their flanks turned them in the right
direction. There were so many deer, however, that a few succeeded in
gaining the land; but here the guns of the traders awaited them. In the
midst of this wild scene, Frank's attention was arrested by the cool
proceedings of an Esquimau, whose name was Chacooto. He had several
times exhibited a degree of shrewdness beyond his fellows during his
residence near the fort, and was evidently a man of importance in the
tribe. Chacooto had collected together a band of the herd, amounting to
fifteen, and, by dint of cool decision and quick movements, had driven
them to within a few yards of the shore, exactly opposite the spot
whereon his tent stood. One young buck, of about two years old, darted
away from the rest more than once, but, with a sweep of the paddle and a
prick of the lance, Chacooto turned it back again, while a quiet
sarcastic smile played on his countenance. Having driven the herd close
enough in for his purpose, the Esquimau ended the career of the
refractory buck with a single thrust of his lance, and then proceeded
coolly to stab them all one after another.

"Och, the spalpeen!" said a voice at Frank's ear. "'Tis himsilf knows
how to do it, an' no mistake. Musha! his lance goes out and in like a
thailor's needle; an' he niver strikes more nor wance, the haythen!"

"He certainly does know how to do it, Bryan," replied Frank; "and it's a
comfort to know that every thrust kills in a moment. I like to see as
little of the appeara