By that time the fire was blazing cheerily. As the shades of night deepened, the circle of light grew more and more ruddy until it seemed like a warm cosy chamber in the heart of a cold grey setting. A couple of small stakes were thrust into the ground in such a way that the two pieces of venison impaled on them were presented to the heart of the fire. Soon a frizzling sound was heard; then odours of a kind dear to the hearts of hungry souls—to say nothing of their noses—began to arise, and the couple thus curiously thrown together sat down side by side to enjoy themselves, and supply the somewhat clamorous demands of Nature.
They said little while feeding, but when the venison steaks had well-nigh disappeared, a word or two began to pass to and fro. At last Cheenbuk arose, and, taking a small cup of birch-bark, which, with a skin of water, formed part of the supplies provided by Adolay, he filled it to the brim, and the two concluded their supper with the cheering fluid.
“Ah!” sighed the girl, when she had disposed of her share, “the white traders bring us a black stuff which we mix with water hot, and find it very good to drink.”
“Yes? What is it?” asked Cheenbuk, applying his lips a second time with infinite zest to the water.
“I know not what it is. The white men call it tee,” said Adolay, dwelling with affectionate emphasis on the ee’s.
“Ho! I should like to taste that tee–ee,” said the youth, with exaggerated emphasis on the ee’s. “Is it better than water?”
“I’m not sure of that,” answered the girl, with a gaze of uncertainty at the fire, “but we like it better than water—the women do; the men are fonder of fire-water, when they can get it, but the white traders seldom give us any, and they never give us much. We women are very glad of that, for the fire-water makes our men mad and wish to fight. Tee, when we take too much of it—which we always do—only makes us sick.”
“Strange,” said Cheenbuk, with a look of profundity worthy of Solomon, “that your people should be so fond of smokes and drinks that make them sick and mad when they have so much of the sparkling water that makes us comfortable!”
Adolay made no reply to this, for her mind was not by nature philosophically disposed, though she was intelligent enough to admire the sagacity of a remark that seemed to her fraught with illimitable significance.
“Have you any more strange things in your bundle?” asked the Eskimo, whose curiosity was awakened by what had already been extracted from it. “Have you some of the tee, or the fire-water, or any more of the thing that smokes—what you call it?”