During the period of his illness Leo’s chief nurse, comforter, and philosophical companion, was the giant of the North. And one of the subjects which occupied their minds most frequently was the Word of God. In the days of weakness and suffering Leo took to that great source of comfort with thirsting avidity, and intense was his gratification at the eager desire expressed by the giant to hear and understand what it contained.
Of course Alf, and Benjy, and the Captain, and Butterface, as well as Grabantak, Makitok, and Amalatok, with others of the Eskimos, were frequently by his side, but the giant never left him for more than a brief period, night or day.
“Ah! Chingatok,” said Leo one day, when the returning spring had begun to revive his strength, “I never felt such a love for God’s Book when I was well and strong as I feel for it now that I am ill, and I little thought that I should find out so much of its value while talking about it to an Eskimo. I shall be sorry to leave you, Chingatok—very sorry.”
“The young Kablunet is not yet going to die,” said the giant in a soft voice.
“I did not mean that,” replied Leo, with the ghost of his former hearty laugh; “I mean that I shall be obliged to leave Flatland and to return to my own home as soon as the season permits. Captain Vane has been talking to me about it. He is anxious now to depart, yet sorry to leave his kind and hospitable friends.”
“I, too, am sorry,” returned Chingatok sadly. “No more shall I hear from your lips the sweet words of my Great Father—the story of Jesus. You will take your book away with you.”
“That is true, my friend; and it would be useless to leave my Bible with you, as you could not read it, but the truth will remain with you, Chingatok.”
“Yes,” replied the giant with a significant smile, “you cannot take that away. It is here—and here.” He touched his forehead and breast as he spoke. Then he continued:—
“These strange things that Alf has been trying to teach me during the long nights I have learned—I understand.”
He referred here to a syllabic alphabet which Alf had invented, and which he had amused himself by teaching to some of the natives, so that they might write down and read those few words and messages in their own tongue which formerly they had been wont to convey to each other by means of signs and rude drawings—after the manner of most savages.