“Not so fast, my dear, not so fast;” he said, stooping over him, and gently pushing him back into a reclining position. “You must remember that you have a big lump on your head from your fall, and it won’t do to be frisky just yet. But before conversing further, it might be well to ascertain whether we understand each other.”
“Yes, I think—I think—I do,” stammered Magnie. “I know some English.”
“Ah, then we shall get along charmingly,” the man remarked, with an encouraging smile. “And I think Harry’s venison steak is done by this time; and dinner, as you know, affords the most delightful opportunity for getting acquainted. Gunnar, our guide, who is outside skinning your reindeer buck, will soon present himself and serve the dinner. Here he is, and he is our cook, butler, chambermaid, laundress, beast of burden, and interpreter, all in one.”
The man to whom the professor alluded was at this moment seen crawling on his hands and knees through the low door-way, which his bulky figure completely filled. He was a Norwegian peasant of the ordinary sort, with a square, rudely cut face, dull blue eyes, and a tuft of towy hair hanging down over his forehead. With one hand he was dragging the skin of the buck, and between his teeth he held an ugly-looking knife.
“Ve haf got to bury him,” he said.
“Bury him!” cried Harry. “Why, you blood-thirsty wretch, don’t you see he is sitting there, looking as bright as a sixpence?”
“I mean de buck,” replied Gunnar, imperturbably.
“And why do you wish to bury the buck? I would much rather eat him. This steak here has a most tempting flavor, and I am quite tired of canned abominations by this time.”
“De volves vill be sure to scent de meat, now dat it is flayed, and before an hour ve might haf a whole congregation of dem here.”