There were rude pieces of furniture scattered about on which also were skins, and before the oil stove at one side of the room crouched a woman, stirring the stew which bubbled over the fire.
And, seeing that the boys were staring at her, this guardian of the feast opened her mouth to favor them with a wide, good-natured grin.
“Come close to the fire,” she invited. “You cold—maybe you hungry, too. Stew very good—very hot.”
CHAPTER XXI
IN THE ESKIMO HUT
Never would the boys forget the music of those words—or the taste of that stew.
While they flung off the snow-covered great coats taken from the locker of Captain Garrish’s ship, the Eskimo woman ladled up great bowls full of the steaming stew and the two natives who had led them to the place brought low stools up to the fire and joined them in their feast.
And what a feast it was! The boys came back for a third helping of stew, and still there seemed to be an unlimited supply in the great black pot.
And delicious! Never before had they tasted anything quite to compare with it.
They asked what it was made of and the Eskimos with broad grins of delight at their enjoyment replied in broken English that it was made of the flesh of the polar bear.