“‘High! hot! hillarious compound of—’”
“Stop! stop! man, don’t begin when we’re in the middle of our plans,” interrupted Benjy, “let us hear what book Butterface means to take.”
“I not take no book, massa, only take my flute. Music is wot’s de matter wid me. Dat is de ting what hab charms to soove de savage beast.”
“I wouldn’t advise you try to soothe a Polar bear with it,” said Leo, “unless you have a rifle handy.”
“Yes—and especially an unloaded one, which is very effective against Polar bears,” put in the Captain, with a sly look. “Ah, Leo, I could hardly have believed it of you—and you the sportsman of our party, too; our chief huntsman. Oh, fie!”
“Come, uncle, don’t be too hard on that little mistake,” said Leo, with a slight blush, for he was really annoyed by the unsportsmanlike oversight hinted at; “but pray, may I ask,” he added, turning sharply on the Captain, “what is inside of these three enormous boxes of yours which take up so much space on the sledges?”
“You may ask, Leo, but you may not expect an answer. That is my secret, and I mean to keep it as a sort of stimulus to your spirits when the hardships of the way begin to tell on you. Ask Chingatok, Anders,” continued the Captain, turning to the interpreter, “if he thinks we have enough provisions collected for the journey. I wish to start immediately.”
“We have enough,” answered Chingatok, who had been sitting a silent, but deeply interested observer—so to speak—of the foregoing conversation.
“Tell him, then, to arrange with his party, and be prepared to set out by noon to-morrow.”
That night, by the light of the midnight sun, the Eskimos sat round their kettles of bear-chops, and went into the pros and cons of the proposed expedition. Some were enthusiastically in favour of casting in their lot with the white men, others were decidedly against it, and a few were undecided. Among the latter was Akeetolik.