Alf did call, then and there, and the Eskimo stood and listened with bowed head and reverent look, until the poor youth had concluded his prayer with the name of Jesus.
The negro’s line of argument with Benjy was different and characteristically lower toned.
“You muss keep up de heart, Massa Benjy. Nobody nebber knows wot may come for to pass. P’r’aps Massa Leo he go to de Nort Pole by hisself. He was allers bery fond o’ takin’ peepil by surprise. Nebber say die, Massa Benjy, s’long’s der’s a shot in de locker.”
At any other time Benjy would have laughed at the poor cook’s efforts to console him, but he only turned away with a sigh.
Two days after that the Eskimos of Poloe were assembled on the beach making preparations to go off on a seal hunt.
“Is that a whale on the horizon or a walrus!” asked the Captain, touching Chingatok on the arm as they stood on the edge of the sea, ready to embark.
“More like a black gull,” said Benjy, “or a northern diver.”
Chingatok looked long and earnestly at the object in question, and then said with emphasis—“A kayak!”
“One of the young men returning from a hunt, I suppose,” said Alf, whose attention was aroused by the interest manifested by the surrounding Eskimos.
“Not so,” said Amalatok, who joined the group at the moment, “the man paddles like a man of Flatland.”