a man eat too much?" he asked. "Until a man is quite full he
is not satisfied. When he is quite full, he wants no more; he can
_hold_ no more!"

"That says a good deal for Eskimo digestion," thought our hero, but as
he knew no native word for digestion, he only laughed and expressed his
readiness to act as his host wished.

Just then the noise of cracking whips and yelping dogs was heard
outside.

"Remain here," said Okiok; "I will come again."

Not long after the hospitable man's exit all the noise ceased, but the
seaman could hear murmuring voices and stealthy footsteps gathering
round the hut. In a few minutes Okiok returned.

"Angut is now ready," he said, "to receive you. The people will look at
you as you pass, but they will not disturb you."

"I'm ready to go--though sorry to leave Nuna and Nunaga," said the
gallant Rooney, rising.

The sounds outside and Okiok's words had prepared him for some display
of curiosity, but he was quite taken aback by the sight that met his
eyes on emerging from the tunnel, for there, in absolute silence, with
wide expectant eyes and mouths a-gape, stood every man, woman, and child
capable of motion in the Eskimo village!

They did not stand in a confused group, but in two long lines, with a
space of four or five feet between, thus forming a living lane,
extending from the door of Okiok's hut to that of Angut, which stood not
far distant.

At first our seaman felt an almost irresistible inclination to burst
into a hearty fit of laughter, there seemed something so absurdly solemn
in this cumulative stare, but good feeling fortunately checked him; yet
he walked with his host along the lane with such a genuine expression of
glee and good-will on his manly face that a softly uttered but universal
and emphatic "Huk!" assured him he had made a good first impression.

When he had entered the abode of Angut a deep sigh of relief escaped
from the multitude, and they made up for their enforced silence by
breaking into a gush of noisy conversation.

In his new abode Red Rooney found Angut and old Kannoa, with a blazing
lamp and steaming stove-kettle, ready to receive him.

Few were the words of welcome uttered by Angut, for Eskimos are not
addicted to ceremonial; nevertheless, with the promptitude of one ever
ready to learn, he seized his visitor's hand, and shook it heartily in
the manner which Rooney had taught him--with the slight mistake that he
shook it from side to sid