“Ridiculous!” cried every one else.
“Huk!” ejaculated old Kannoa, wrinkling up her mild face and exposing her toothless gums in a stupendous chuckle.
“Yes, impossible! But I think he does not tell many lies,” said Nuna apologetically. “I think he only does it a little. Then he goes on his knees every night before lying down, and every morning when he rises, and speaks to himself.”
“Why?” cried every one in blazing astonishment.
“I know not,” replied Nuna, “and he does not tell.”
“He must be a fool,” suggested Kunelik.
“I suppose so,” returned Nuna, “yet he does not look like a fool.”
At this point the description of Rooney’s person and characteristics was interrupted by a tremendous splash. It was poor Pussi, who, having grown wearied of the conversation, had slipped from her mother’s side, and while wandering in the background had tumbled into the oil-tub, from which she quickly emerged gasping, gazing, and glittering.
A mild remonstrance, with a good wipe down, soon put her to rights, and Nuna was about to resume her discourse, when the sound of rushing footsteps outside arrested her. Next moment a wild scrambling was heard in the tunnel—as of a giant rat in a hurry—and Ippegoo tumbled into the hut in a state of wild excitement, which irresistibly affected the women.
“What has happened?” demanded Nuna.