Angut said no word in reply, but he smiled a grim smile as he turned and went his way.
Being much fatigued with his recent exertions, Red Rooney turned into Okiok’s hut, to the great sorrow of the women and children, who had gathered from all parts of the village to gaze at and admire him.
“He is real—and alive!” remarked Kunelik in a low voice.
“And Nuna is not a liar,” said the mother of Arbalik.
“Yes; he is tall,” said one.
“And broad,” observed another.
“But very thin,” said Pussimek.
“No matter; he can stuff,” said Kabelaw, with a nod to her sister Sigokow, who was remarkably stout, and doubtless understood the virtue of the process.
While this commentary was going on, the object of it was making himself comfortable on a couch of skins which Nuna had spread for him on the raised floor at the upper end of her hut. In a few minutes the wearied man was sound asleep, as was indicated by his nose.
No sooner did Mrs Okiok note the peculiar sound than she went out and said to her assembled friends—“Now you may come in; but—forget not—no word is to be spoken. Use your eyes and bite your tongues. The one who speaks shall be put out.”