paused
a few minutes. They usually did so between each sentence. Evidently
they pondered what they said.

"Have these men got wives?" asked the chief.

"The old one has, and Bunjay is his son. The other ones--no. The black
man may have a wife: I know not, but I should think that no woman would
have him."

"What made him black?"

"I know not."

"Was he always black?"

"The Kablunets say he was--from so big."

Chingatok measured off the half of his left hand by way of explaining
how big.

"Is he black under the clothes?"

"Yes; black all over."

Again the couple paused.

"It is strange," said the old man, shaking his head. "Perhaps he was
made black because his father was wicked."

"Not so," returned the young giant. "I have heard him say his father
was a very good man."

"Strange," repeated the chief, with a solemn look, "he is very ugly--
worse than a walrus. Tell me, my son, where do the Kablunets live? Do
they hunt the walrus or the seal?"

"Blackbeard has told me much, father, that I do not understand. His
people do not hunt much--only a very few of them do."

"Wah! they are lazy! The few hunt to keep the rest in meat, I suppose."

"No, father, that is not the way. The few hunt for fun. The great many
spend their time in changing one thing for another. They seem to be
never satisfied--always changing, changing--every day, and all day.
Getting and giving, and never satisfied."

"Poor things!" said the chief.

"And they have no walruses, no white bears, no whales, nothing!" added
the son.

"Miserables! Perhaps that is why they come here to search for
_nothing_!"

"But, father, if they have got nothing at home, why come here to search
for it?"

"What do they eat?" asked Amalatok, quickly, as if he were afraid of
recurring to the puzzling question that had once already taken him out
of his mental depth.

"They eat all sorts of things. Many of them eat things that are nasty--
things that grow out of the ground; things that are very hot and burn
the tongue; things that are poison and make them ill. They eat fish
too, like us, and other people bring them their meat in great oomiaks
from far-off lands. They seem to be so poor that they cannot find
enough in their own country to feed themselves."

"Wretched creatures!" said the old man, pitifully. "Yes, and they drink
too. Drink waters so hot and so terrible that they burn their mouths
and their insides, and so they go mad.