“Why should we fight? The hunting-grounds are wide enough!” he said, in the grave sententious tones peculiar to his race.
“That is just what came to my thought when I let go,” answered the more matter-of-fact Eskimo.
“Let us part, then, as friends,” returned the red man, “and let us do it in the manner of the pale-faced traders.”
He extended his right hand as he spoke. Cheenbuk, who had heard a rumour of the white man’s customs—probably from men of his race who had met with the crews of whalers—advanced, grasped the extended hand, and shook it in a way that might have done credit to any Englishman! He smiled at the same time with a slightly humorous expression, but the other maintained his solemnity. Fun is not a prominent characteristic of the red man.
“But there is no need that we should part before feeding,” said the Eskimo.
“Waugh!” replied the Indian, by which it is to be presumed he signified assent.
The reconciled foes being both adepts in the art of cookery, and—one of them at least—in woodcraft, it was not long before a large fire was blazing under a convenient fir-tree, and the grey goose soon hissed pleasantly in front of it. They were a quiet and self-contained couple, however, and went about their work in profound silence. Not that they lacked ideas or language—for each, being naturally a good linguist, had somehow acquired a smattering of the other’s tongue,—but they resembled each other in their disinclination to talk without having something particular to say, and in their inclination to quietness and sobriety of demeanour.
Here, however, the resemblance ceased, for while the Eskimo was free and easy, ready to learn and to sympathise, and quick to see and appreciate a joke, the Indian was sternly conservative, much impressed with his own rectitude of intention, as well as his capacity for action, and absolutely devoid of the slightest tinge of humour. Thus the Eskimo’s expression varied somewhat with the nature of the subjects which chased each other through his mind, while that of the red man never changed from the calm of dignified immobility—except, of course, when, as during the recent struggle, his life was in danger.
While the goose was roasting, the erstwhile foes sat down to watch the process. They had not to watch long, for the fire was strong and neither of them was particular. Indeed, the Eskimo would gladly have eaten his portion raw, but waited patiently, out of deference to what he deemed his companion’s prejudices.
“You are alone?” said the Eskimo interrogatively.