s the first sound that broke
the silence, if we except the gentle dip of the oars and the rippling
water on the bow.

"Looks like it, Benjy," replied the Captain.

A wakeful dog on shore was the first to scent the coming strangers. He
gave vent to a low growl. It was the keynote to the canine choir, which
immediately sent up a howl of discord. Forthwith from every hut there
leaped armed men, anxious women, and terrified children, which latter
rushed towards the cliffs or took refuge among the rocks.

"Hallo! Chingatok, your relations are not to be taken by surprise,"
said the Captain--or something to that effect--in Eskimo.

The giant shook his head somewhat gravely.

"They must be at war," he said.

"At war! whom with?"

"With the Neerdoowulls," replied Chingatok with a frown. "They are
always giving us trouble."

"Not badly named, father," said Benjy; "one would almost think they must
be of Scotch extraction."

At that moment the natives--who had been gesticulating wildly and
brandishing spears and bone knives with expressions of fury that denoted
a strong desire on their part to carve out the hearts and transfix the
livers of the newcomers--suddenly gave vent to a shout of surprise,
which was succeeded by a scream of joy. Chingatok had stood up in the
boat and been recognised. The giant's dog--an appropriately large one--
had been the first to observe him, and expressed its feelings by wagging
its tail to such an extent that its hind legs had difficulty in keeping
the ground.

Immediately on landing, the party was surrounded by a clamorous crew,
who, to do them justice, took very little notice of the strangers, so
overjoyed were they at the return of their big countryman.

Soon a little pleasant though flattish-faced woman pushed through the
crowd and seized the giant. This was his wife Pingasuk, or Pretty One.
She was _petite_--not much larger than Oblooria the timid. The better
to get at her, Chingatok went down on his knees, seized her by the
shoulders, and rubbed her nose against his so vigorously that the
smaller nose bid fair to come off altogether. He had to stoop still
lower when a stout urchin of about five years of age came up behind him
and tried to reach his face.

"Meltik!" exclaimed the giant, rubbing noses gently for fear of damaging
him, "you are stout and fat, my son, you have been eating much blubber--
good."

At that moment Chingatok's eyes fell on an object which had hit