No such fear affected Hans Egede. Knowing that he could point to the only remedy for sin and broken hearts, he went straight into the poor man’s hut. Shortly afterwards the groaning ceased, and the natives listened with awe to what they knew was the voice of prayer. As they could not, however, distinguish the words, they gradually drew off, and circled round the strangers who had so unexpectedly arrived.
Great was their surprise when they found that their comrade Kajo had been brought home as a prisoner; and still greater was their surprise when they found that a bottle of rum which had been stolen from one of their hunters, and carried off the day before, was found on the person of Kajo—for Kajo had been, like Mangek, a respectable man up to that date, and no one believed it possible that he would condescend to steal.
One of those who was himself under the influence of rum at the time looked sternly at Kajo, and began to abuse him as a hypocrite and deceiver.
“Now, look here,” cried Red Rooney, stepping forward; “listen to me.”
Having regard to his commanding look and tone, the natives considered him the leader of the party, and listened with respect.
“What right have you,” he continued, turning sharply on the last speaker, “to look with contempt on Kajo? You have been drinking mad water yourself. I smell it in your breath. If you were to take a little more, you would be quite ready to commit murder.”
“No, I would not,” replied the Eskimo stoutly.
“Yes, you would,” said the sailor, still more stoutly. “Even my good-natured friend Okiok here would be ready to murder his wife Nuna if he was full of mad water.”
This unexpected statement took our kindly Eskimo so much by surprise that for a moment or two he could not speak. Then he thundered forth—
“Never! What! kill Nuna? If I was stuffed with mad water from the toes to the eyelids, I could not kill Nuna.”