“Did I not say that they were fools?” said Amalatok, indignantly.
“But the strangest thing of all,” continued Chingatok, lowering his voice, and looking at his sire in a species of wonder, “is that they fill their mouths with smoke!”
“What? Eat smoke?” said Amalatok in amazement.
“No, they spit it out.”
“Did Blackbeard tell you that?”
“Yes.”
“Then Blackbeard is a liar!”
Chingatok did not appear to be shocked by the old man’s plain speaking, but he did not agree with him.
“No, father,” said he, after a pause. “Blackbeard is not a liar. He is good and wise, and speaks the truth. I have seen the Kablunets do it myself. In the big oomiak that they lost, some of the men did it, so—puff, pull, puff, puff—is it not funny?”
Both father and son burst into laughter at this, and then, becoming suddenly grave, remained staring at the smoke of their cooking-lamp, silently meditating on these things.