“I think that is about it,” said the store-keeper. “These natives never know their age exactly.”
“You look to me more like an Eskimo than an Indian,” observed Professor Zepplin.
“Me Innuit–Siwash. You savvy me?”
Stacy scratched his head.
“Tell him to talk United States,” suggested the fat boy.
“What is your name?” asked Tad.
“Anvik. Me smart man, savvy? Me educate Jesuit Mission. Me pilot Chilkoot, White Horse, Caribou; me savvy all over.”
“Do you know how to cook?” questioned the Professor.
“Heap cook all time. Me savvy cook.”
“You don’t savvy any cooking for me,” declared Stacy.