they had it."

"Yes, father," sighed Chingatok, "it is as I told you--nothing; only the
Nort Pole--a mere name."

A new light seemed to break in on Chingatok as he said this, for he
added quickly, "But, father, a name is _something_--my name, Chingatok,
is something, yet it is nothing. You cannot see it, you do not lay hold
of it, yet it is there."

"Toohoo! my son, that is so, no doubt, but your name describes _you_,
and you are something. No one ever goes to a far-off land to search for
a _name_. If this Nort Pole is only a name and not a _thing_, how can
it _be_?" exclaimed the old man, turning on his heel and marching off in
a paroxysm of metaphysical disgust.

He appeared to change his mind, however, for, turning abruptly back, he
said to Anders, "Tell these strangers that I am glad to see them; that a
house and food shall be given to them, and that they are welcome to
Poloe. Perhaps their land--the far-off land--is a poor one; they may
not have enough to eat. If so, they may stay in this rich land of mine
to hunt and fish as long as they please. But tell them that the Eskimos
love wise men, and do not care for foolishness. They must not talk any
more about this search after nothing--this Nort Pole--this nonsense--
huk!"

Having delivered himself of these sentiments with much dignity, the old
man again turned on his heel with a regal wave of the hand, and marched
up to his hut.

"That must be the King of Poloe," whispered Captain Vane to Leo,
endeavouring to suppress a smile at the concluding caution, as they
followed Anders and one of the natives to the hut set apart for them.

The Captain was only half right. Amalatok was indeed the chief of the
island, but the respect and deference shown to him by the tribe were
owing more to the man's age and personal worth, than to his rank. He
had succeeded his father as chief of the tribe, and, during a long life,
had led his people in council, at the hunt, and in war, with consummate
ability and success. Although old, he still held the reins of power,
chiefly because his eldest son and rightful successor--Chingatok's elder
brother--was a weak-minded man of little capacity and somewhat malignant
disposition. If our giant had been his eldest, he would have resigned
cheerfully long ago. As it was, he did not see his way to change the
customs of the land, though he could not tell when, or by whom, or under
what circumstances, the order of succession had bee