Then the whole crowd started forward again. Half an hour's travel brought another halt, this time a final one, for when the professor and his companions glanced around them they found they were in the midst of a native village of ice huts.
"Golly! We's somewhere, anyhow," spoke Washington; "but I can't say I thinks much ob dis place. It's too lonesome."
"Better be here than out on the ice field," spoke up the professor. "The Esquimaux have little stone stoves in which they burn oil, and their huts are quite warm inside."
In a few minutes the captives had a chance to test this statement. They were unbound and carried from the sled to one of the larger huts. As is usual in the far northern regions, each hut was made of blocks of ice laid one on the other, forming a semicircular house, with a round dome.
The door or entrance was so small that the only way to get in was to crawl. There was no door to keep the cold out, but the passage was made a winding one, or there were two huts, one built over the other, so that the openings did not come opposite, and this served to keep out the wind.
Arriving at the doorway, the Esquimaux set their prisoners down in front of the house, and signed to them to crawl in. The professor went first, followed by Andy and Washington. Inside they found the place to be warm from the flame of a crude stove. This consisted of a hollowed out stone, filled with seal oil, the wick being made of moss. The stove, or lamp, for it served both purposes, smoked very much.
There were several natives squatting down inside the hut, but they did
not seem surprised when the three prisoners entered. Others of the
Esquimaux crowded into the ice house, until it was uncomfortably filled.
Then a native who seemed to be a leader began a long talk to the others.
Judging from his gestures he was telling about the fight at the airship and the capture of the captives. At times he would be interrupted by those who wanted to question him.
At length the recital was done. All the Esquimaux, save about half a dozen, crawled out of the hut. One of those who remained placed an earthen pot over the flame of the stove, and soon a delicious smell filled the air. Evidently something good was being cooked.
"It's chicken pot-pie," said Washington. "How I does love chicken!"