“Do you speak English?”
Dave could have wept on his shoulders for pure joy. What he did do was to extend his hand with a hearty, “Put her there, old chap, that’s just what I do!”
“You must be hungry,” said the new-found friend.
“We could eat,” admitted Dave.
“Come this way.”
Having made sure that the balloon was in a safe position, Dave and Jarvis, assisting the professor, followed their host round a point of rock and up to a row of cabins on the southern side of the hill. Having entered one of these, they were invited to sit down while the professor was helped to a room in the rear and tucked into bed.
“Now, gentlemen,” said the stranger, “we can offer you only venison and fresh sweet potatoes for your main course. You will perhaps not mind that. But in the matter of salads, we can give you a little choice. Will you have head lettuce or sliced cucumbers?” He smiled genially.
Dave looked at Jarvis; Jarvis stared at Dave. Was this man jesting? Head lettuce and cucumbers in mid-winter, inside the Arctic Circle? What a rank impossibility! Yet the man did not smile.
“Mine’s ’ead lettuce an’ a little whale blubber,” laughed Jarvis.
“And yours?” smiled the host, turning to Dave.