It was now Red Rooney’s turn to look perplexed. He knew that writing was easy enough to him who understands it, and he felt that there must be some method of explaining the matter, but how to go about the explanation to one so utterly ignorant did not at once occur to him. We have seen, however, that Rooney was a resolute man, not to be easily baffled. After a few moments’ thought he said—
“Look here now, Angut. Your people can count?”
“Yes; they can go up to twenty. I can go a little further, but most of the Innuits get confused in mind beyond twenty, because they have only ten fingers and ten toes to look at.”
“Well now,” continued Rooney, holding up his left hand, with the fingers extended, “that’s five.”
Yes, Angut understood that well.
“Well, then,” resumed Rooney, jotting down the figure 5, “there you have it—five. Any boy at school could tell you what that is.”
The Eskimo pondered deeply and stared. The other Eskimos did the same.
“But what,” asked Okiok, “if a boy should say that it was six, and not five?”
“Why, then we’d whack him, and he’d never say that again.”
There was an explosion of laughter at this, for Eskimos are tender and indulgent to their children, and seldom or never whack them.