He was right. As the anchor, catching in a claybank, jerked the balloon to a sudden halt, they could see the people racing toward the point where the car was sure to land.
Dave’s mind was in a whirl. First his right hand gripped his automatic, next it hung limp at his side. What manner of people were they, anyway? If that broad flat surface of little squares meant the roof of a building, then these certainly were not natives, Chukches or Eskimos. Those always lived in houses of deer skin or snow. And, if it was a house, what an immense thing it must be. A hundred feet long, perhaps two hundred, and half as wide.
There was little time for speculation. The balloon carriage dropped rapidly. Their daft professor hung to the rail, babbling incoherent things about returning to the mouth of the Anadir. Jarvis was silent. Evidently there was but one thing to do; to trust themselves to the tender mercies of these people.
As the cabin bumped the snowy tundra, Dave sprang over the rail, followed by Jarvis, who assisted the still feeble professor.
They found themselves at once in the midst of a curious-eyed group of people. These, with their long beards and droll clothing and droll manners, made Dave feel as if he were another Rip Van Winkle entering a land of dreams.
In the crowd there were some twenty men, slowly straggling in. There was a woman of middle age, and beside her a girl of about sixteen years, evidently her daughter. Dave’s eyes approved of the girl, and though she was a stranger to his tongue, she did not fail to find an immediate means of letting him know that she looked upon him with much favor.
All these people were dressed in skins, fawn skins for the most part, though there were occasional garments of leather. The garments were not cut at all after the manner of Chukches or Eskimos. The girl wore a skirt and a loose middy-like jacket of white buckskin, the skin of which had been split thin. The garments suited her wonderfully well.
Dave had concluded, before one of them spoke, that they were Russians. When the oldest man of the group attempted to address him, he knew his guess to be correct, though he understood not one word of what was being said.
“But what,” he asked himself, “are these people doing here so far within the Arctic Circle, and how do they live?”
Having made it evident that he did not understand their language, he awaited further attempts at conversation. Other languages were tried with no success, until a man of thirty years or past suddenly said: