After breakfast the boys determined they’d like to have a look around them, but when they started to put on the coats they had worn the night before, Kapje grunted a protest and pointed to a pile of fur clothing which the boys had not noticed till that moment.
“Clothes no good—no keep cold out,” said the Eskimo scornfully. “I bring you fur. See! This way you wear ’em.”
While the boys, voicelessly grateful for the Eskimo’s kindness, looked on with interest, Kapje held up the clothing he had brought for them.
“See,” he explained. “This your undershirt.” It was a garment made of fawn skin and designed to be worn with the hair in, next the body. “You put that on first, you see. Then this pants and coat made of caribou skins, and these boots, they keep the legs warm. Seal skin, you know—maybe? An’ these stockings, also of the seal skin, yes? Fur keep you warm always. Wool, never.”
Then, as though embarrassed at this, for him, remarkably long speech, the Eskimo turned and left the place before the boys could thank him.
Eagerly the boys examined the strange fur garments. There was a complete outfit, one for each of them, even including mittens of caribou or seal.
Their inspection was interrupted by the woman who led the way to one end of the igloo and pushed aside a heavy skin, revealing a low arched doorway, the existence of which the boys had never suspected up to this moment.
The woman motioned them inside, showing again her friendly grin.
“Put on fur,” she said. “An’ you never be cold again. Fur very warm—like fire.”
“Oh, boy!” cried Fred, as he hurriedly flung off his own clothing and stepped into the undergarment of fawn skin. “I’ll say this is the life. Some good old scout, our friend Kapje!”