Gradually, as appetite was satisfied, tongues were loosened, and information about the wonderful foreigner, which had been fragmentary at first, flowed in a copious stream. Then commentary and question began in right earnest.
“Have some more mikiak?” said Mrs Okiok to Pussimek.
“No,” replied Mrs P, with a sigh.
These northern Eskimos did not, at least at the time of which we write, say “thank you”—not that there was any want of good feeling or civility among them, but simply because it was not customary to do so.
Mrs Okiok then offered some more of the delicacy mentioned to the mother of Ippegoo.
“No,” said Kunelik, leaning back with a contented air against the wall; “I am pleasantly stuffed already.”
“But tell me,” cried Issek, the stern mother of Arbalik, “what does the Kablunet say the people eat in his own land?”
“They eat no whales,” said Nuna; “they have no whales.”
“No whales!” exclaimed Pussimek, with a ‘huk’ of surprise!
“No; no whales,” said Nuna—“and no bears,” she added impressively. “Ridroonee, (that’s his name), says they eat a thing called bread, which grows out of the ground like grass.”