“My man,” said Rooney, after a few minutes’ intense application to the rib, “what is your name?”
“Okiok,” replied the Eskimo.
“Okiok,” muttered the seaman to himself in English; “why, that’s the Eskimo word for winter.” Then, after a few minutes’ further attention to the rib, “Why did they name you after the cold season o’ the year?”
“I know not,” said Okiok. “When my father named me I was very small, and could not ask his reason. He never told any one. Before I was old enough to ask, a bear killed him. My mother thought it was because the winter when I was born was very cold and long.”
Again the hungry man applied himself to the rib, and nothing more was said till it was finished. Feeling still somewhat fatigued, Rooney settled himself among his furs in a more upright position, and gave his attention to the natives, who instantly removed their eyes from him, and resumed eating with a will. Of course they could not restrain furtive glances, but they had ceased to stare.
In a few minutes Okiok paused, and in turn became the questioner.
“No Kablunet ever came here before,” he said. “We are glad to see you; but why do you come, and why alone, and why starving?”
“Not very easy to answer these questions off-hand to the likes of you,” said Rooney. “However, I’ll try. You’ve heard of the settlements—the traders—no doubt, in the far-off land over there?”
Rooney pointed to the southward, the direction of which he knew from the position of the sun and the time of day, which latter he guessed roughly.
The Eskimo nodded. From the special character of the nod it was evident that he meant it to express intelligence. And it did!