Tales by Polish Authors Part 40
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"But it's not true! Nothing of the kind happened. Ask Kituwia."
"No, thank you; he would only knock me down! A man must not only be careful not to ask him about it, but must not even show that he knows.
Wopatka told me of it."
"Where are we to look for you if we need you?"
"People will tell you where;--the tavern is the best, for a good deal of business of different kinds is being done with the Chukchee just now, and I am interpreter. You can't get them to do anything without vodka."
A few more days had pa.s.sed, when suddenly such a remarkable thing happened that all the inhabitants of the little town came out to watch it. A number of festively dressed Chukchee on two sledges, each drawn by two pairs of fine reindeer, drove up at full gallop to Stefan's house. Stefan went out on to the steps to meet them. The first to alight was an old Chukchee, dressed in a costly "docha" made of black rat, skilfully embroidered, and edged with beaver. He supported himself as he walked by resting his hand lightly on the shoulders of his sons, who held his feet by the ankles and respectfully placed them on the steps. They were followed by a boy of nine, his head bare and his hair closely cropped, and then came two small, alert, queer-looking individuals. One wore a docha of black rat, similar to the old man's but not so good; the second had no outer wrap at all, but, dressed in tight-fitting fur, looked like a gnome escaped from the forest. By their plaits, which were bound up with tinkling silver ornaments, and by the raspberry-coloured silk handkerchiefs across their foreheads, Stefan knew that these were ladies. They were both tattooed. The elder one had blue waving lines worked in silk on her forehead and cheeks; the younger had deep scars along her nose and chin. Her figure was not without charm; she was slim, and moved gracefully. She had the Chukchee woman's eyes, and her face, which was rather large, expressed a certain amount of determination. The general impression was spoilt, however, by a nervous habit of looking behind her.
"Well, here they are!" Jzef cried, hurrying in after the guests.
"Receive them somehow, and I will fetch Buza at once."
"Anoai! Anoai!" the Chukchee greeted their host.
There were too many guests for the available seats, so Stefan pulled out some rugs from a corner and spread them in the middle of the floor. Sitting down on them in a circle, the natives began to chatter.
One of the old man's sons was the Chukchee who had dried his clothes at Stefan's fire. He was evidently relating the adventure--certainly not for the first time. Yet they all listened attentively, a.s.senting with friendly grunts and looking with interest at the bed; the younger woman even jumped up and peeped under the quilt, whereupon they all burst out laughing. When the clock struck, the cuckoo and its movements and sound made an immense impression, and the little boy shouted with delight. They all jumped up and stood in front of the clock, imitating it, and when the door shut with a snap behind the little bird they sprang away in fright at first, but ended by laughing loudly. However, the old man could put a stop to their merriment in a moment if he chose.
Buza, Wopatka, and Jzef now came in.
"Well, I told you so! It's Otowaka, not Gemka. There's certainly no such person as Gemka, and 'gem-kamatakan' means in Chukchee, 'I am ill.' It's a great honour that old Otowaka has come to you himself.
He's very proud, and the richest man in the country--quite the richest. You have been most successful."
He sat down in the circle of Chukchee with Wopatka, who kept a little behind him. Jzef helped Stefan to prepare the feast and boil the samovar. They sent out for water.
"He is a much-respected man. He has innumerable reindeer, three wives in three different places, and six sons," Buza said, growing proportionately communicative as the vodka and food disappeared. "You have been very successful. He is rewarding you and doing you honour.
You have only to go to him, and he will give you valuable furs; he will even give a daughter to each of you. He has beautiful daughters; I saw them in the town as they pa.s.sed through in the caravan. For these Otowakas come from a long distance, so they travel in caravans.
He evidently wants to ask you to do some work for him, for he wished to know whether you were a good locksmith and could put together a foreign rifle which has been taken to pieces. The Americans always sell them arms without c.o.c.k or trigger. So I told him you had clever fingers, and that even the District Inspector thinks highly of you.
The old man listened to this carefully. He is sure to offer you a present, and you must take it, or he will be very much offended."
The magnet and other wonders Stefan was able to show them caused the greatest delight to the natives, but their merriment reached its height when Jzef started to play the barrel organ. They hung over the box, laid their ears to it, poked their noses into it, grunted and stamped in rhythm, and finally began to move in a slow dance. Their eyes laughed, and their faces shone with grease and perspiration.
"Hey! Come along! Jump up, Wopatka! Now, that's most graceful!" Buza exclaimed, pulling the Chukchee, who was half tipsy, by the arm.
At that moment the door opened wide and Kituwia appeared on the threshold. Jzef, very much pleased, went towards him, but the Chukchee neither stirred nor gave the usual greeting, "Anoai!" He closed the door behind him, and, leaning against it, held out one hand in an att.i.tude of defence, and laid the other on his neck. His hair stood out wildly from under the leather band, and his eyes glowed with a wolfish fierceness. At the sight of him the circle of merry people in the middle of the room became petrified. The old man looked darkly at the bold intruder, the young men bent forward as if ready to spring at him, the women stared with wide-open mouths.
"What do you want?" cried Stefan, advancing. "Be off!"
"Go out! Take yourself off when you aren't invited!" Buza said, coming forward to support his host. "Be careful not to go near him," he added to Stefan, "or he will run you through. You see how he lays his hand on his neck: he has a knife there; I can see he has--I can see it by the strap on his neck. What do you mean by bringing a knife with you into the town, you d.a.m.ned scoundrel? Don't you know that's forbidden?
I'll tell the Inspector, and to the end of your life you'll never be allowed to come into the town again. You'll be sent away to the tundra at once. Give me the knife."
"I will give it you directly, but I want it first for that dog whom I have chased like a hare all over the country," Kituwia calmly answered in Chukchee.
One of the young Chukchee sprang towards him, but Jzef seized him by the shoulder. Neither he nor Stefan understood what the natives were talking about, but they guessed that there was a quarrel.
"You would do better to drink this and join us," Jzef said in a conciliatory way, taking Kituwia a gla.s.s. The latter pushed it aside.
"That's bad!... He won't drink vodka," Buza cried in Russian. "They will go for one another presently!... Hey! be off! You won't take vodka from the gentleman himself? Who do you think you are? I will call the Cossacks directly! Do you behave like this in a gentleman's house? And it's not long since you were entertained here! You tundra dog! I will have you taken up at once. Ha, ha! don't try it on me! You know who I am. Let me go by at once; I will go and call the guard. But you keep him talking here," he whispered to Stefan.
He turned towards the entrance, but retreated immediately, for Kituwia started forward, and the dangerous quiver of his lips showed his large white teeth. In a moment the room was in an uproar. Stefan, Buza, and Kituwia, surrounded by struggling Chukchee, burst through the door, which opened with a crash, and into the hall. Stefan lay with his chest on Kituwia's chest; the native struggled beneath him and tried unsuccessfully to free his hand. Stefan was thus able to seize him by the throat. Kituwia choked and shook his head until he became exhausted. Someone broke the strap on his neck with a jerk, and a large broad-bladed knife flew jingling into a corner. Buza, in the street, called for the Cossacks, and a large crowd of people came on to the scene. Stefan and Jzef were now, in their turn, obliged to defend the enfeebled Kituwia from the Chukchee's rage. At last twenty-five Cossacks appeared; the a.s.sailant was arrested and led off to prison, the crowd following him with insults.
"You'll have a nice time!... A nice look-out for you!... You'll get thirty such good lashes you won't want to sit down for a year to come!... You'll remember what it is to come here with a knife!...
Perhaps you still want to butcher us all?... Ah, you are short-handed now! Times have changed!"
The warrior looked at them fiercely and shrugged his bound shoulders.
"What is it all about?" Stefan and Jzef asked Buza.
"Who knows anything about them?" he answered with indifference.
"Anyhow, they are drunk."
"No, no; that's not it," a fisherman remarked. "It's an old quarrel that has come down to them from their forefathers, and now they say it's about Otowaka's daughter-in-law, Kituwia's own sister. Young Aimurgin stole her. That's long ago, and they now have children, but ... what memories these fellows have! I expect the old man paid a good sum, for he was willing to make it up, but Kituwia never would.
They say that he had been living with his sister ... they aren't baptized--though those who are often do the same. So Kituwia wanted to take the woman away; but Otowaka certainly could not allow that, or he would have had no peace on the tundra."
Buza became the hero of the hour, and received frequent invitations to supper. After vodka, but not before, he related in detail what had happened:
"They were all drinking together and enjoying themselves. They were playing the District Administrator's barrel organ and dancing--even Otowaka himself was stamping his foot.... It would certainly have ended badly if I hadn't seized him, for I saw him put his hand on his neck."
"You'll catch it from him! He'll pay you out for this! You know him."
"How can he pay me out? I walk along the street quite openly; he had better be careful himself. He has been sent away from the town. When I see him I'll collar him at once and put him in prison. He had better look out. For if he comes my way ... by G.o.d!... I'll knock him down--I'll just knock him down! Don't let him forget! Why should I be particular about a brigand like that, when Otowaka himself offers me his friends.h.i.+p?"
Otowaka remained near the town for some time longer, but was rarely seen. Jzef and Stefan visited him in his encampment, where he received them in an exceptionally friendly manner. He did not offer them his daughters, but wished to give them a place of honour above even the missionary, whom, together with Buza, he often entertained in recollection of his son's adventure. The friends would not agree to this, and thus won Father Pantelay's favour for all time, drawing from him golden words on the humility which wins a man heaven.
"I am urging him to seek the Divine grace and be baptized," he said, looking towards the old Chukchee....
They were offered dessert--frozen reindeer marrow, chopped fine and arranged in small heaps--which, being hard, was moistened with a plentiful supply of vodka, as may be imagined. "It would be safer for him to be baptized. He could encamp on the western tundra."
"Well, is he willing?"
"He doesn't refuse, but says that he will see."
Before they left, the rich man presented each guest with a foxskin, and begged him to be so kind as to visit him on the tundra.
"There I am in my right place; that's my own country."
Jzef's eyes sparkled.
"What do you think--can we go, Father?" he asked the missionary when they reached home.
Father Pantelay was in a very good temper.
"Perhaps we shall go.... If only he would be baptized! So many souls would be saved, for he rules the whole family."
"Oh, he is sure to be baptized. If we go there, he will be baptized out of sheer hospitality to us. Besides, we can take him presents.
Here it's different, and nothing will come of it."
Tales by Polish Authors Part 40
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Tales by Polish Authors Part 40 summary
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