“The Man of the Valley!” asked Leo, “who is that?”
“He is an Eskimo,” replied Grabantak, with a sudden air of solemnity in his manner, “whose first forefather came in the far past longtime, from nobody knows where; but this first forefather never had any father or mother. He settled among the Eskimos and taught them many things. He married one of their women, and his sons and daughters were many and strong. Their descendants inhabit the Great Isle of Flatland at the present day. They are good and strong; great hunters and warriors. The first forefather lived long, till he became white and blind. His power and wisdom lay in a little strange thing which he called ‘buk.’ How it made him strong or wise no one can tell, but so it was. His name was Makitok. When he died he gave buk to his eldest son. It was wrapped up in a piece of sealskin. The eldest son had much talk with his father about this mystery-thing, and was heard to speak much about the Kablunets, but the son would never tell what he said. Neither would he unwrap the mystery-thing, for fear that its power might escape. So he wrapped it up in another piece of sealskin, and gave it to his eldest son, telling him to hand it down from son to son, along with the name Makitok. So buk has grown to be a large bundle now, and no one understands it, but every one has great reverence for it, and the Makitok now in possession is a great mystery-man, very wise; we always consult him on important matters.”
Here was food for reflection to Leo during the remainder of that night, and for many hours did his sleepless mind puzzle over the mystery of Makitok, the Man of the Valley.
This sleepless condition was, not unpleasantly, prolonged by the sounds of animal life that entered his oven-like dwelling during great part of the night. Evidently great numbers of the feathered tribes were moving about, either because they meant to retire at dissipatedly late, or had risen at unreasonably early, hours. Among them he clearly distinguished the musical note of the long-tailed duck and the harsh scream of the great northern diver, while the profound calmness of the weather enabled him to hear at intervals the soft blow and the lazy plash of a white whale, turning, it might be, on his other side in his water-bed on the Arctic Sea.
Following the whale’s example, Leo turned round at last, buried his face in a reindeer pillow, and took refuge in oblivion.
Chapter Twenty Four.
A Glorious Region Contemplated, and a Glorious Chase Planned.
Leo did not slumber long. Very early in the morning he awoke with that sensation about him which told that at that time further repose was not attainable. He therefore rose, donned the few garments which he had put off on lying down, crept through his tunnel, and emerged into the open air.