“No fear of its being too much, father,” said Benjy. “When Butterface goes with us, a three weeks’ allowance usually disappears in a fortnight.”
“Nebber mind, Massa,” said the negro seriously. “You’ve plenty for tree weeks dis time, ’cause I’s off my feed. Got Polar dimspepsy, or suffin’ o’ dat sort, I tink.”
“You’ve brought the electrical machine, of course, and the dynamite, Alf?” asked the Captain.
“Of course. I never prepare for a trip without these. There’s no saying, you see, when we may require them—either to blow up obstructions or astonish the natives.”
“The natives are past astonishing now,” remarked Benjy; “nothing short of a ten thousand jar battery would astonish Chingatok, and I’m quite sure that you couldn’t rouse a sentiment of surprise in Oolichuk, unless you made him swallow a dynamite cartridge, and blew him inside out. But, I say, daddy, how long are you going to keep us in the dark about your plans? Don’t you see that we are in agonies of suspense?”
“Only till we gain the ridge, Benjy. It will be down-hill after that, and the snow-crust comparatively smooth as well as hard.”
Arrived at the ridge, one of the kites was unfolded and sent up. The breeze was steady, and sufficiently strong. It took twenty Eskimos to hold it when allowed full play, and even these it jerked about in a manner that highly diverted them. These Eskimos were very fond of kite-flying, for its own sake, without reference to utility!
“I knew you were going to try it on the sledge,” exclaimed Benjy, with sparkling eyes.
“Why did you ask me about it, then?” returned the Captain.
“Do let me make the first trial, father!”