gain engaged in a bloody--a _useless_ war."

"What is it all about, father?"

"About!--about nothing."

"Huk! about Nort Pole--nothing," murmured Chingatok--his thoughts
diverted by the word.

"No, it is worse than Nort Pole, worse than nothing," returned the chief
sternly; "it is a small island--very small--so small that a seal would
not have it for a breathing-place. Nothing on it; no moss, no grass.
Birds won't stay there--only fly over it and wink with contempt. Yet
Grabantak says he must have it--it is within the bounds of _his_ land!"

"Well, let him have it, if it be so worthless," said Chingatok, mildly.

"Let him have it!" shouted the chief, starting up with such violence as
to overturn the cooking-lamp--to which he paid no regard whatever--and
striding about the small hut savagely, "no, never! I will fight him to
the last gasp; kill all his men; slay his women; drown his children;
level his huts; burn up his meat--"

Amalatok paused and glared, apparently uncertain about the propriety of
wasting good meat. The pause gave his wrath time to cool.

"At all events," he continued, sitting down again and wrenching off
another rib, "we must call a council and have a talk, for we may expect
him soon. When you arrived we took you for our enemies."

"And you were ready for us," said Chingatok, with an approving smile.

"Huk!" returned the chief with a responsive nod. "Go, Chingatok, call a
council of my braves for to--night, and see that these miserable
starving Kablunets have enough of blubber wherewith to stuff
themselves."

Our giant did not deem it worth while to explain to his rather petulant
father that the Englishmen were the reverse of starving, but he felt the
importance of raising them in the old chief's opinion without delay, and
took measures accordingly.

"Blackbeard," he said, entering the Captain's hut and sitting down with
a troubled air, "my father does not think much of you. Tell him that,
Unders."

"I understand you well enough, Chingatok; go on, and let me know why the
old man does not think well of me."

"He thinks you are a fool," returned the plain spoken Eskimo.

"H'm! I'm not altogether surprised at that, lad. I've sometimes
thought so myself. Well, I suppose you've come to give me some good
advice to make me wiser--eh! Chingatok?"

"Yes, that is what I come for. Do what I tell you, and my father will
begin to think you wise."

"Ah, yes, the old story," remarked