Home—Sweet Home—and Smoke, etcetera.
The favouring calm continued until Cheenbuk with his companion arrived at Waruskeek.
It was about mid-day when their canoe turned round the headland and entered the inlet near the head of which lay the Eskimo village.
The boy Anteek happened to be standing on the shore at the time, beside the young girl Nootka. They were looking out to sea, and observed the canoe the moment it turned the point of rocks.
“Hoi-oi!” yelled Anteek with an emphasis that caused the inhabitants of the whole village to leap out of every hut with the celerity of squirrels, and rush to the shore. Here those who had first arrived were eagerly commenting on the approaching visitors.
“A kayak of the Fire-spouters!” cried Anteek, with a look of intense glee, for nothing was so dear to the soul of that volatile youth, as that which suggested danger, except, perhaps, that which involved fun.
“The kayak is indeed that of a Fire-spouter,” said old Mangivik, shaking his grey head, “but I don’t think any Fire-spouter among them would be such a fool as to run his head into our very jaws.”
“I’m not ready to agree with you, old man,” began Gartok.
“No; you’re never ready to agree with any one!” growled Mangivik parenthetically.
“For the Fire-spouters,” continued Gartok, disregarding the growl, “are afraid of nothing. Why should they be when they can spout wounds and death so easily?”