with?
Much the same, I fancy, that the southern Eskimos believe?"

"I know not what the southern Eskimos believe, for I have met them
seldom. But our angekoks believe in torngaks, familiar spirits, which
they say meet and talk with them. There is no torngak. It is a lie."

"But you believe in one great and good Spirit, don't you?" asked the
seaman, with a serious look.

"Yes; I believe in One," returned the Eskimo in a low voice, "One who
made me, and all things, and who _must_ be good."

"There are people in my land who deny that there is One, because they
never saw, or felt, or heard Him--so they say they cannot know," said
Rooney. Angut looked surprised.

"They must be fools," he said. "I see a sledge, and I know that some
man made it--for who ever heard of a sledge making itself? I see a
world, and I know that the Great Spirit made it, because a world cannot
make itself. The greatest Spirit must be One, because two greatests are
impossible, and He is good--because good is better than evil, and the
Greatest includes the Best."

The seaman stared, as well he might, while the Eskimo spoke these words,
gazing dreamily at the lamp-flame, as if he were communing with his own
spirit rather than with his companion. Evidently Okiok had a glimmering
of what he meant, for he looked pleased as well as solemn.

It might be tedious to continue the conversation. Leaving them
therefore to their profound discussions, we will turn to another and
very different social group.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

TREATS OF CROSS-PURPOSES AND DIFFICULTIES.

Partially concealed in a cavern at the base of a stupendous, almost
perpendicular, cliff, stood the wizard Ujarak and his pupil Ippegoo.
The former silently watched the latter as he fitted a slender spear, or
rather giant arrow, to a short handle, and prepared to discharge it at a
flock of sea-birds which were flying about in front of them within what
we would call easy gunshot.

The handle referred to acted as a short lever, by means of which the
spear could be launched not only with more precision but with much
greater force than if thrown simply by hand like a javelin.

"There, dart it now!" cried Ujarak, as a bird swept close to the cave's
mouth. "Boh! you are too slow. Here is another; quick! dart!"

Ippegoo let fly hastily, and missed.

"Poo! you are of no more use than the rotten ice of spring. There; try
again," said Ujarak, pointing to a flock of birds which cam