None of their women had come off with them; and, while the party that had gone after the bear were busy skinning it, Raed brought up a roll of flannel, with half a dozen knives, and, holding them up, pointed off to the mainland and said, "Henne-lay." Whereupon they fell to heh-hehing afresh with cries of "Igloo, igloo!" Kit pointed to our boat, hanging from the davits at the stern, and then off to the shore, to inquire whether we should send it for them; but they shook their heads, and cried, "Oomiak, oomiak!"
"Do they mean for us to take the schooner up there?" asked the captain.
Raed pointed to the deck, and then off to the shore, inquiringly. No, that was not it; though they still cried "Oomiak!" pointing off to the shore.
"Oomiak is a boat of their own, I guess," said Kit; "different from the kayak. They called 'The Curlew' oomiak-sook, you know."
"Tell them to bring some of their children along too," said Wade.
"Well, what's the word for child?" Raed inquired.
We none of us knew.
"Try pappoose," suggested the captain.
"Pappoose," said Raed, pronouncing it distinctly, and pointing off as before. "Henne-lay—pappoose."
But they only looked blank. Pappoose was evidently a new word for them. We then resorted to various expedients, such as holding our hands knee-high and hip-high; but the requisite gleam of intelligence could not be inspired. So, with another repetition of the word henne-lay, we started off a delegation of eight or nine after the female portion of the settlement.