and so on, after that, they keep aya-ing, aya-ing, and amna-aya-ing uproariously, until they are entirely broken down with shouting and laughing, in the midst of which Karsuk is pretty sure to run away.
“In the same manner I have heard the story of Metak’s love adventure sung, or rather recited, or amna-aya-ed as one might say.
“They use the same amna-aya chorus when they sing over the dead, or sing praises of the dead, only instead of being lively, then it is sung in a solemn tone. I will repeat one called
and after that, as in the other song, they keep on amna-aya-ing for a long while, but with a very doleful voice and manner. Indeed, it is quite as distressing to hear them amna-aya the dead as it is amusing to hear them amna-aya the living.
“The Dean and I very much wanted to go on another bear-hunt, but the savages said it was too late in the season for that, as the ice had many cracks in it, and there was no use chasing a bear, as he would jump into the first crack he came to, and swim over it to the other side, and there he would be safe enough. And, indeed, when I climbed one day to the top of a tall iceberg, and looked out in the direction of our solitary island, I could see several cracks from a yard to a hundred yards wide, so that it was very fortunate we escaped from the island when we did.
“The savages now said it was time to be moving, or a crack might come between us and the shore. Indeed, the season was getting well advanced; the snow was melting a little, and in places it was quite sloppy; so everything in and about the snow huts was packed upon the sledges, and we went then to the main-land, which was not more than ten miles distant. Here we came upon a village of three huts, built in the hillside very near the sea, and were in many respects fitted up as our own had been; only they had regularly constructed walls of stones and turf, which, tapering in from either side, joined at the top, making a space large enough to accommodate two or three families in each hut. Into these three huts were crowded all the men, women, and children that had been in the snow village.
“There we lived five days, after which we took up our march again, keeping along near the shore, where the ice was most solid and safe. Then we came to a deep, broad bay where the hillside, which was exposed to the south, was quite free of snow,—the snow having melted and run down to the sea. Here we halted, and the savages went to some great piles of stones, and brought out from under them a number of seal-skins, which were spread over some narwhal horns that were just like ‘Old Crumply,’ and in a few hours they had pitched two tents, under which we all slept soundly, being very tired. The next day they got more seal-skins, and pitched three more tents, and a few days afterward other people came along, and put up two other tents, making in all seven,—quite a little seal-skin village, and a much more comfortable looking one than the snow village had been.
“Here it seemed to be the intention of the savages to remain for some time, as they went regularly to work to prepare for hunting various kinds of game, chiefly walruses and seals, and besides these, among others, an animal I had not seen before,—a beautiful rabbit, or hare rather, very large, and pure white. These were quite numerous, and fed upon the buds and bark of the willow-bushes, and were caught by stretching a very long line across the tops of a great number of stones, or piles of stones rather, which were placed about six feet apart, the line itself being about a foot from the ground. To this line they tied a great number of loops, and then all the people, going out, surrounded the rabbits and drove them under the line, and several of them found themselves noosed when they least expected it. I saw there also a beautiful white bird called a ptarmigan, which is a grouse, but it could not be caught.
“By this time we had become quite domesticated among the savages. They called me Annorak, which meant that I resembled the wind when I talked,—that is, I talked when I liked and where I liked, and nothing could stop me, while the Dean was much more sober. Him they finally called Aupadleit, which means ‘Little Red-head,’ though the Dean’s hair was not exactly red, but very bright, and the savages admired it very much; so the Dean, to humor them, cut off great locks of it, and gave it to them all round.