“How big was that bear?” asked Ippegoo, gazing on his master with a look of envious admiration.
“How big?” repeated Ujarak; “oh, as big—far bigger than—than—the—biggest bear I have ever seen.”
“Oh, then it was an invisible bear, was it?” asked Okiok in surprise.
“How? What do you mean?” demanded the wizard, with an air of what was meant for grave contempt.
“If it was bigger than the biggest bear you have ever seen,” replied Okiok, with a stupid look; “then you could not have seen it, because, you know, it could not well be bigger than itself.”
“Huk! that’s true,” exclaimed one, while others laughed heartily, for Eskimos dearly love a little banter.
“Boh! ba! boo!” exclaimed Simek, after a sudden guffaw; “that’s not equal to what I did to the walrus. Did I ever tell it you, friends?—but never mind whether I did or not. I’ll tell it to our guest the Kablunet now.”
The jovial hunter was moved to this voluntary and abrupt offer of a story by his desire to prevent anything like angry feeling arising between Okiok and the wizard. Of course the company, as well as Rooney, greeted the proposal with pleasure, for although Simek did not often tell of his own exploits, and made no pretension to be a graphic story-teller, they all knew that whatever he undertook he did passably well, while his irrepressible good-humour and hilarity threw a sort of halo round all that he said.
“Well, my friends, it was a terrible business!”
Simek paused, and looked round on the company with a solemn stare, which produced a smothered laugh—in some cases a little shriek of delight—for every one, except the wizard himself, recognised in the look and manner an imitation of Ujarak.