"Get your glass," he said. "Or never mind: take mine. Now look right up there between those islands. What do you see?"
"Seals," replied Kit slowly, with the glass to his eye. "Any quantity of seals on the ice there; and—there's something larger scooting along. That's a narwhal: no, 'tain't, either. By jolly! see the seals flop off into the water as it shoots along! afraid of it. There! something flashed then in the sun! Raed, I believe that's a kayak,—an Esquimau canoe! An Esquimau catching seals!"
"That's what I thought."
"Wash!"
"Wade!"
"Get your glasses, and come here quick!"
"What's that about Esquimau?" demanded Capt. Mazard, coming along from the binnacle.
"An Esquimau kayak!" said Raed.
"That so?" running after his glass.
In a few moments we were all—all who had glasses—looking off at the wonderful object, to see which had been one of the pleasant hopes of our voyage; and yet I am bound to say, that, in and of itself, it was no great of a sight, especially at a distance of two miles. But, considered as an invention perfected through centuries by one of the most singular peoples of the Man family, it is, in connection with all their implements of use, well worth a study. Indeed, there is, to me at least, something so inexpressibly quaint and bizarre about this race, as to render them an object well deserving of a visit. More strikingly even than the Hottentot or the Digger Indian of the Western sage deserts do they exhibit the iron sway of climate and food over habits and character, as well as physical growth and development.