“They’re all deserted too,” remarked Buzzby.
But Buzzby was wrong, for at that moment a very small and particularly fat little boy in a fox-skin dress appeared at the mouth of one of the low tunnels that formed the entrance to the nearest hut. This boy looked exactly like a lady’s muff with a hairy head above it and a pair of feet below. The instant he observed the strangers he threw up his arms, uttered a shrill cry of amazement, and disappeared in the tunnel. Next instant a legion of dogs rushed out of the huts, barking furiously, and on their heels came the entire population, creeping on their hands and knees out of the tunnel mouths like dark hairy monsters issuing from their holes. They had spears and knives of ivory with them, but a glance showed the two parties that they were friends, and in a few moments Awatok and his comrades were chattering vociferously round the sailors, and endeavouring by word and sign to make themselves understood.
The Esquimaux received the three visitors and the rest of the sledge-party, who came up a few hours later, with the utmost hospitality. But we have not space to tell of how they dragged them into their smoky huts of snow, and how they offered them raw seals’ flesh to eat; and how, on the sailors expressing disgust they laughed, and added moss mixed with oil to their lamps to enable them to cook their food; and how they managed, by signs and otherwise, to understand that the strangers had come in search of food, at which they (the Esquimaux) were not surprised; and how they assured their visitors (also by means of signs) that they would go a-hunting with them on the following day, whereat they (the sailors) were delighted, and shook hands all round. Neither have we space to tell of how the visitors were obliged to conform to custom, and sleep in the same huts with men, women, children, and dogs, and how they felt thankful to be able to sleep anywhere and anyhow, without being frozen. All this, and a great deal more, we are compelled to skip over here, and leave it unwillingly, to the vivid imagination of our reader.
Chapter Eighteen.
The Hunting Party—Reckless Driving—A Desperate Encounter with a Walrus, etcetera.
Late in the day, by the bright light of the stars, the sailors and the Esquimaux left the snow-huts of the village, and, travelling out to seaward on the floes, with dogs and sledges, lances and spears, advanced to do battle with the walrus.
The northern lights were more vivid than usual, making the sky quite luminous, and there was a sharp freshness in the air, which, while it induced the hunters to pull their hoods more tightly round their faces, also sent their blood careering more briskly through their veins, as they drove swiftly over the ice in the Esquimaux sledges.
“Did ye ever see walrusses a’fore, Davie!” enquired Buzzby who sat beside Summers on the leading sledge.