“Meltik!” exclaimed the giant, rubbing noses gently for fear of damaging him, “you are stout and fat, my son, you have been eating much blubber—good.”
At that moment Chingatok’s eyes fell on an object which had hitherto escaped his observation. It was a little round yellow head in his wife’s hood, with a pair of small black eyes which stared at him in blank surprise. He made a snatch at it and drew forth—a naked baby!
“Our girlie,” said the wife, with a pleased but anxious look; “don’t squeeze. She is very young and tender—like a baby seal.”
The glad father tried to fold the creature to his bosom; nearly dropped it in his excess of tender caution; thrust it hastily back into his wife’s hood, and rose to give a respectful greeting to an aged man with a scrubby white beard, who came forward at the moment.
“Who are these, my son?” asked the old man, pointing to the Englishmen, who, standing in a group with amused expressions, watched the meeting above described.
“These are the Kablunets, father. I met them, as I expected, in the far-off land. The poor creatures were wandering about in a great kayak, which they have lost, searching for nothing!”
“Searching for nothing! my son, that cannot be. It is not possible to search for nothing—at least it is not possible to find it.”
“But that is what they come here for,” persisted Chingatok; “they call it the Nort Pole.”
“And what is the Nort Pole, my son?”
“It is nothing, father.”