“What did you tell him that time?” asked Jesse.
“Told him to make a fire, and be jolly quick about it,” said John. “If you want to get anything done, come to me, fellows. Look at Jimmy build that fire!”
In truth the Aleut seemed to accept the place assigned him. He not only built the fire in the middle of the hut, but picked up the skillet as a matter of course, wiped it out with some dried grass, put into it some of the bear fat, and added a part of the liver which they had brought along. He handed out the empty pail to John, grunting something which no one understood; but John, passing the pail in turn to Jesse, said he thought that what the Aleut wanted was some water to boil.
“Chi?” asked the Aleut, suddenly, of John.
“Natu chi,” said John (“Haven’t got any tea”).
In reply to this the Aleut stooped down, went out of the door, and walked over to the bidarka, where it lay at the bank. Rob followed him to see that he attempted no treachery, but the Aleut seemed to have no intention of that. He pulled out from his boat a dried seal-skin or two, his old blanket, and his gun, which latter Rob took from him.
“He’s been hunting and fishing,” said Rob. “Looks like he had a bear-hide of his own underneath there. He’s got two or three fresh codfish, and here’s his cod-line of rawhide—with bone sinkers. And here’s a bow and some bone-tipped arrows, besides his spear there on the deck. If we kept his rifle and turned him loose he could make a living all right.”
“But we don’t want to turn him loose,” said John; “he’s too useful. Look at that.”