Red Rooney | Page 8

over, for
each member of the family lay down to rest with his or her face
towards the stranger, and kept up the glare until irresistible Nature
closed the lids and thus put out the eyes, like the stars of morning, one
by one; perhaps it would be more strictly correct to say two by two.
Okiok and his wife were the last to succumb. Long after the others
were buried in slumber, these two sat up by the lamp-light, solacing

themselves with little scraps and tit-bits of walrus during the intervals
of whispered conversation.
"What shall we do with him?" asked Okiok, after a brief silence.
"Keep him," replied Nuna, with decision.
"But we cannot force him to stay."
"He cannot travel alone," said Nuna, "and we will not help him to go."
"We are not the only Innuits in all the land. Others will help him if we
refuse."
This was so obvious that the woman could not reply, but gazed for
some time in perplexity at the lamp-smoke. And really there was much
inspiration to be derived from the lamp-smoke, for the wick being a
mass of moss steeped in an open cup of seal-oil, the smoke of it rose in
varied convolutions that afforded almost as much scope for suggestive
contemplation as our familiar coal-fires.
Suddenly the little woman glanced at her slumbering household, cast a
meaning look at her husband, and laughed--silently of course.
"Has Nuna become a fool that she laughs at nothing?" demanded Okiok
simply.
Instead of replying to the well-meant though impolite question, Nuna
laughed again, and looked into the dark corner where the pretty little
round face of Nunaga was dimly visible, with the eyes shut, and the
little mouth wide-open.
"We will marry him to Nunaga," she said, suddenly becoming grave.
"Pooh!" exclaimed Okiok--or some expression equivalent to
that--"Marry Nunaga to a Kablunet? Never! Do you not know that
Angut wants her?"
It was evident from the look of surprise with which Nuna received this

piece of information that she was not aware of Angut's aspirations, and
it was equally evident from the perplexed expression that followed that
her hastily-conceived little matrimonial speculation had been knocked
on the head.
After this their thoughts either strayed into other channels, or became
too deep for utterance, for they conversed no more, but soon joined the
rest of the family in the realms of oblivion.
CHAPTER THREE.
OUR HERO AND HIS FRIENDS BECOME FAMILIAR.
It was a fine balmy brilliant morning when Red Rooney awoke from
the most refreshing sleep he had enjoyed for many a day, gazed
thoughtfully up at the blackened roof of the Eskimo hut, and wondered
where he was.
There was nothing that met his eyes to recall his scattered senses, for
all the members of the family had gone out to their various avocations,
and one of them having thrust a sealskin into the hole in the wall which
served for a window the sun found admittance only through crevices,
and but faintly illumined the interior.
The poor man felt intensely weak, yet delightfully restful--so much so
that mere curiosity seemed to have died within him, and he was content
to lie still and think of whatever his wayward mind chose to fasten on,
or not to think at all, if his mind saw fit to adopt that course in its
vagaries. In short, he felt as if he had no more control over his thoughts
than a man in a dream, and was quite satisfied that it should be so.
As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, however, he began
slowly to perceive that the walls around him were made of rough
unhewn stone, that the rafters were of drift timber, and the roof of moss,
or something like it; but the whole was so thickly coated with soot as to
present a uniform appearance of blackness. He also saw, from the
position in which he lay, a stone vessel, like a primitive classical lamp,
with a wick projecting from its lip, but no flame. Several skulls of large

animals lay on the floor within the range of his vision, and some
sealskin and other garments hung on pegs of bone driven into the wall.
Just opposite to him was the entrance to the tunnel, which formed the
passage or corridor of the mansion, and within it gleamed a subdued
light which entered from the outer end.
Rooney knew that he saw these things, and took note of them, yet if
you had asked him what he had seen it is probable that he would have
been unable to tell--so near had he approached to the confines of that
land from which no traveller returns.
Heaving a deep sigh, the man uttered the words, "Thank God!" for the