home, and stayed for a time with your people,"
returned Cheenbuk, who was usually blunt and to-the-point in his
conversation, "will you come away with me and be my woman--my squaw?" he
added, accommodating his words to the Indian vocabulary.

"I cannot leave my mother," answered the maiden in a low voice.

"That is good," returned the gallant Eskimo, "but Cheenbuk can leave
_his_ mother and his father too. If I go and live with the
men-of-the-woods, will you be my squaw?"

Adolay with downcast eyes gave no answer.

It is said that silence gives consent. We are ignorant as to Arctic
opinion on this point, but before light could be thrown on the subject,
Anteek came rushing round the corner of a stranded berg with the
exclamation--

"Hoi! Cheenbuk--here you are! We thought you must have got into the
teeth of a walrus or the arms of a bear!"

Cheenbuk frowned savagely, caught Anteek by his nether garments and the
nape of his neck, and, lifting him high above his head, seemed about to
dash him on the ground. But, instead, he replaced him gently on his
feet, and, with a benignant smile, told him to run down to the shore and
put his kayak in the water so as to be ready for him.

Anteek, who was obedience personified, hastened away at once, rubbing
his nether garments, and sorely perplexed as to the strange spirit which
seemed so suddenly to have taken possession of the friend he so ardently
idolised.

It was arranged that Nazinred, being unaccustomed to the Eskimo kayak,
should voyage with the women in one of the oomiaks. To a younger brave
this might have been regarded as an undignified position, but to a man
of his years and tried experience it was only a subject for a passing
smile. But the Indian did not accept the position of an idle passenger.
Although inexpert in the use of the two-bladed paddle and the light
kayak, he was thoroughly capable of using the women's paddle with the
single blade, as it bore much resemblance in shape and size to that used
in his native canoe. He therefore quietly assumed the post of steersman
in the oomiak, which contained Madam Mangivik, Nootka, the easy-going
Cowlik, the gentle Rinka, Adolay, and a variety of children and babies.
The young man Oolalik, in defiance of immemorial custom, also took a
seat and a paddle in that oomiak--out of pure hospitality of course, and
for the sole purpose of keeping their guest company. Nootka said
nothing, but she seemed amused as well