“But how are we to carry him there?” asked Egede. “He cannot walk, and we must not delay.”
“That’s true,” said Rooney; “and it will never do to burden the women’s boat with him. It is too full already.”
“Did he not say that he had his kayak with him?” asked Angut.
“He did,” cried Okiok, with the sudden animation of one who has conceived an idea. “Run, Arbalik, Ippegoo, Ermigit, Norrak, and seek for the kayak.”
The youths named ran off to obey, with the alacrity of well-trained children, and in half an hour returned in triumph with the kayak on their shoulders. Meanwhile Kajo had recovered slightly, and was allowed to sit up, though his hands were still bound.
“Now we’ll try him. Launch the boat, boys,” said Okiok, “and be ready to paddle.”
The young men did as they were bid, and Okiok, unloosening Kajo’s bonds, asked him if he could manage his kayak.
“O–of—c–course I can,” replied the man, somewhat indignantly.
“Come, then, embark an’ do it,” returned Okiok, seizing his arm, and giving it a squeeze to convince him that he was in the hands of a strong man.
Kajo staggered towards his little vessel, and, lifting it with difficulty, went down to the beach. He would certainly have fallen and damaged it if Okiok had not stood on one side and Angut on the other to prevent a fall. When the kayak was launched, he attempted to step into the little oval opening in it, but with so little success that Okiok, losing patience, lifted, him in, and crammed him down. Then he sent him afloat with a vigorous push.