All the inhabitants turned out to welcome our heroes, and a wild, strange welcome it was.
This was a wandering tribe, and consequently a more brave and fearless people than the inhabitants of the igloo villages around the coast.
But they were safe; and they looked upon Ingomar as their sun-king, as in their musical, labial language they expressed it.
This tribe might have numbered altogether some six or seven hundred souls, and I may as well tell the truth about them—they never fished for blubber themselves, but levied blackmail on their humbler and more industrious neighbours who lived along the shores of gulfs and bays.
They had very large stores of frozen blubber, however, thousands of skins, and plenty of stored fish, and flesh of every sort, from seagulls’ to whales’.
Stimulants in the shape of rum or brandy I do not believe they ever tasted, but they seemed all the more happy in consequence.
Ingomar strode round among them, and even the children ran towards him to kiss his hand. Nay, more, the very dogs danced about him, but “down-charged” whenever he lifted his hand.
It was a queer sight to see the splendid jet-black Newfoundland standing close by his Nora’s side and defying the whole howling pack, turning his head sideways now and then to give Nora a lick, as much as to say, “Don’t be afraid, my dear; they’re only ignorant savages. I could fight them six at a time.”
The night was to be one of hard frost; but these nomads, much to our heroes’ astonishment, lit a great fire of ancient pine wood, which they had excavated from a hillside not far off, and so John Frost was defied for once.
The arrival of real “Eengleeshmen” at their winter camp was an event that no one would ever forget.