“How they can get a walrus and tow him in with those kyaks gets me,” declared Jim.
“Trust those boys to do it though,” said Mr. Kemp. “Why, they even get big bowheads in kayaks. They can handle them canoes to beat all. I’ve seen ’em flop clean over and come up a smilin’ t’other side.”
Tom laughed. “You must think we’re greener than we are, to swallow that,” he declared.
The second officer grinned. “All right, I’ll prove it,” he announced, and calling to a young Eskimo who stood near, he said something to him in the fellow’s own language.
With a broad grin the Eskimo slipped over the schooner’s rail, settled himself in the tiny craft, pulled the string of the lacing to the circular opening about his body, and with a few strokes of his paddle drew away from the Narwhal.
“Now watch him!” exclaimed Mr. Kemp.
Glancing up at the watching boys, the Eskimo waved his hand, gave a sudden lurch to one side, and to the boys’ utter amazement, the kayak capsized. The next instant they could see only the smooth rounded bottom of the canoe.
“Oh, he’ll be drowned!” cried Tom. “He’s laced in and can’t——”
Before he could finish the sentence, the kayak had rotated, and scarcely believing their eyes, the boys saw the craft bob right side up with its swarthy occupant still grinning.
“Well, that is a stunt!” cried Jim.