“How do you know Innua is abroad?” asked the Professor, now curious to know more of the native superstitions.
“See um.”
“Where?”
“On big mountain,” indicating Mt. St. Elias with a sweeping gesture.
“He won’t go until to-morrow. If you want him you will have to wait,” the store-keeper informed them.
“Then I suppose we shall have to wait,” reflected Professor Zepplin. “It may be an excellent idea after all. We can pitch camp in the village and acquaint our guide with our methods of doing things, Anvik, do you know how to put up tents and make camp?”
131“Me make Ighloo, fine Ighloo. Snow no get in, cold no get in, Innua no get in.”
“How about rain?” put in Stacy.
“Rain no get in.”
“That’s all right, then. We don’t care whether the snow gets in or not, but we don’t want to have to swim out of our Ighloos in the middle of the night. One is liable to get wet, you know,” reminded Brown.