"Oh, hell!" Singer pulled off his shirt, wadded it up, and threw, it in a corner.
Next morning, his feelings still hurt, Singer ate in glowering silence, speaking to Okagamut only when he had to and then in curt monosyllables. He cast furtive glances at the girls and thought of what might have been. He did not, however, plan to circumvent Okagamut's tabu; the damned little Chow might smear him, and in any case, he'd never get to Olñega.
When Singer would have relaxed over his pipe after breakfast, Okagamut said briskly: "Turn to, chum; we've got work."
Dyenük led them outside to a shed wherein a mess of gear was piled on and around a big sled. The herder proffered mittens and overboots until he had fitted both of them. Then he brought forth two pairs of short skis shod on the bottom with tvortsevë-hide, the bristles pointing aft.
"Be sure your bindings are tight, my lords," he said. "I once rented skis to a man of Vyutr who insisted on going out on the glacier with loose bindings. Naturally he floundered in the snow, without control, and when a pudamef crept out of a crevasse the poor lad could do nought."
"What's a pudamef?" said Singer.
"A kind of snow-dragon they have around the edges of the plateau," said Okagamut. "Dyenük, how about poles?"
"We use these," said their host, getting down a spear with a ski-pole disc near its butt-end.
Okagamut swung the object. "Too heavy for one hand, but if we're likely to meet pudamefn it will be useful. W'll just have to learn to ski with one pole."
Dyenük explained the operation of the tent and other pieces of equipment, then took them out to a lean-to built against the side of the shed. "The horashevë for the fsyokn is finished," he said, "but not yours. 'Twould have been, save that one of the beasts slipped his tether two nights gone and feasted on the man-food. You, Dinky, shall dice this haunch of unha while your friend stirs the fat-cauldron and I weigh out ingredients. Girls! Girls! How are your biscuits coming?"
Singer looked in dismay at the pile of bricks of composition food already stacked against the shed. "Good gods, have we got to haul all that?"
"Absolutely," said Okagamut. "For the work that's ahead of us, you need at least 5,000 calories a day."
Singer chopped at slabs of meat and heaps of dried vegetables with a knife until his fingers ached, then stirred the fat in the rendering-pot until his arm ached and the stench nearly suffocated him, then mixed ingredients until he could hardly stand for weariness. They took but a few minutes out for lunch. Dyeniik's daughters brought out a huge pile of biscuits and smaller amounts of other Krishnan foods, which they began packing into leather bags, together with the bricks of frozen horashevë. Then they packed the smaller bags into two large canvas containers.
Okagamut indicated one of these, saying.: "Okay, Dinky, that's your grub for the trip."
"Mine?" said Singer, hefting the container. "Gad, she must weigh five stone. That's a year's tucker!"
"Remember that when you're tempted to eat over your daily ration ... What is it, Pyesatül?"
"Lord," said the younger girl, "I know not if I should disturb you, but yonder come a party of men towards our steading."
Sure enough, far off, where the plain first began to break up into the rolling foothills that led up to their present height, a little group of black specks was creeping over the landscape.
"Have you got a telescope?" Okagamut asked Dyenük.
"Aye. I'll fetch it."
They took turns looking through the glass. The black specks were undoubtedly men on ayas.
"What'll we do?" said Singer. "Run for it?"
"We've got to pack the sled first," said Okagamut. "It'll take them some hours to reach here, won't it, Dyenük?"
"Aye." They hauled the sled out of the shed and began stowing and lashing their gear to it.
"What can I do?" said Singer, feeling useless.
"Keep out of our way," snapped Okagamut. Singer's anger at his companion, which had died down during the day's work, flared up again. He stamped off.
It seemed to Singer that they took an interminable time checking and re-arranging their gear. Finally they lashed a tarpaulin over the whole, and manhandled the sled around to the front of the house.
"Bear a hand!" barked Okagamut. Although offended, Singer complied. The weight of the loaded sled amazed him.
"It'll lighten as we go," said Okagamut.
"Huh," said Singer. "It's fair cow that it should be heaviest at the start, when we're going uphill."
They went around to the kennels, where Dyenük handed Singer the leash of one of the fsyokn and told him to lead the animal back to the sled. Singer did not like the wide mouth and fangs of the creature, a big long-haired cousin of the eshun, which in more equatorial nations performed the office of tame dog. The beast, however, seemed eager to be hitched up and with its six powerful legs almost pulled Singer off his feet. It scudded through the thin slushy snow, Singer bouncing behind.
Dyenük said: "Keep those two apart, lest they fight!"
While the animals yowled, Okagamut paid off Dyenük, practically exhausting his and Singer's resources. Singer impulsively tossed his ring to Dyenük. "Give it to whichever girl marries first," he said. "Cheerio!"
They looked towards the plains. The black specks were nearer.
Okagamut cracked his whip and shouted: "Kshay!" The five fsyokn dug in their paws and pulled.
"Dzat!" They did a column-right at the road. Lumps of slush flew back over the sled; the Earthmen had to run. Singer found he could climb hills faster with his fur-shod skis than with the ordinary kind, since one could advance by simply sliding them parallel without herring-boning.
He was beginning to puff when the fsyokn settled down to a more normal pace. It was late in the long Krishnan day. In these latitudes it never got really dark, save for a short time around midnight in winter; the rest of the time there was either a low sun or twilight. The seasons differed but little because of the slight inclination of the planet's axis.
The layer of pearly cloud that covered the sky made it hard to tell direction, and soon the light became too dim to see those black specks far behind.
"By the gods," said Singer after a couple of hours, "I'm softer than I thought."
"Getting tired?"
"I can go as far as you, Mr. Okagamut."
"Okay. We want to do all we can before stopping." They did halt for an evening meal. Okagamut said: "Watch it, there. One biscuit's all you get."
"But I'm jolly starved!"
"I know, but you'll be hungrier yet if you don't stick to your ration. I warned you."
"Wowser!" muttered Singer. While he thought he was coming to dislike this reserved and competent young man, he didn't want to provoke him into leaving him flat in this white wilderness.
They went on again and reached the foot of Shtojë Glacier. Okagamut said: "We can wait here till morning, or start up the glacier and put a little more distance between us and Yadjye's boys before it gets dark. It'll be hard going, with crevasses, but if you'll take a chance I will."
"I'm with you," said Singer, and they started up.
On the steeper slopes both had to push on the rear of the sled while the animals heaved and panted in front. At times they even slid backwards. They passed crevasses: great ice-chasms dropping off into blue darkness. Singer shuddered as they threaded their way around them.
When Singer thought he would drop from exhaustion, Okagamut said: "We'll camp here; it's beginning to blow."
A breeze was raising an ankle-high drift. They found a level spot, staked out the animals, and set up the tent slowly and with much fumbling, for they were unused to their gear. The wind rose, making it hard to stake the tent and filling the air with a whirling, blinding, stinging cloud of snowflakes. They hastily fed the animals, pushed the sled so that one of its runners rested on the windward flap of the tent, and crawled through the tent-sleeve just as the wind began to blow in earnest. The tent-walls flapped with a deafening drum-like sound. Okagamut pulled off his footgear and pants and slid into his sleeping-bag. Singer did likewise, looking apprehensively at the snapping cloth over his head.