“Well, one village we have,” resumed Rooney, “is as broad as from here to the house of Okiok under the great cliff, and it is equally long.”
The “huks” and “hois!” with which this was received proved that, big as their understandings were, the Eskimos were not prepared to take in so vast an idea.
“Moreover,” said the seaman, “because there is not enough of space, the houses are built on the top of each other—one—two—three—four—even five and six—one standing on the other.”
As each number was named, the eyes of the assembly opened wider with surprise, until they could open no further.
“Men, women, and children live in these houses; and if you were to spread them all over the ice here, away as far as you can see in every direction, you would not be able to see the ice at all for the houses.”
“What a liar!” murmured the mother of Arbalik to the mother of Ippegoo.
“Dreadful!” responded the latter.
“Moreover,” continued Rooney, “these people can put their words and thoughts down on a substance called paper and send them to each other, so that men and women who may be hundreds of miles away can talk with each other and understand what they say and think, though they cannot hear or see each other, and though their words and thoughts take days and moons to travel.”
The breathless Eskimos glanced at each other, and tried to open their eyes wider, but, having already reached the utmost limit, they failed. Unfortunately at that moment our hero was so tickled by the appearance of the faces around him, that he smiled. In a moment the eyes collapsed and the mouths opened.
“Ha! ha–a–a!” roared Simek, rubbing his hands; “the Kablunet is trying to beat my walrus.”