The Giant of the North | Page 5

the temporary snow-huts
of these wandering Eskimos.
Well might the eye, as well as the head, of the so-called savage rise
upwards while he pondered the great mystery of the Maker of all! As
he stood on the giddy ledge, rapt in contemplation, an event occurred
which was fitted to deepen the solemnity of his thoughts. Not twenty
yards from the point on which he stood, a great ice-cliff--the size of an
average house--snapped off with a rending crash, and went thundering
down into the deep, which seemed to boil and heave with sentient
emotion as it received the mass, and swallowed it in a turmoil
indescribable.
Chingatok sprang from his post and sought a safer but not less lofty
outlook, while the new-born berg, rising from the sea, swayed
majestically to and fro in its new-found cradle.
"It is not understandable," muttered the giant as he took up his new
position and gazed with feelings of awe upon the grand scene. "I
wonder if the pale-faced men in the floating islands think much about
these things. Perhaps they dwell in a land which is still more wonderful
than this, and hunt the walrus and the seal like us. It is said they come
for nothing else but to see our land and find out what is in it. Why
should I not go to see their land? My kayak is large, though it has no
wings. The land may be far off, but am I not strong? They are
pale-faced; perhaps the reason is that they are starved. That must be so,
else they would not leave their home. I might bring some of the poor
creatures to this happy land of ours, where there is always plenty to eat.
They might send messengers for their relations to come and dwell with
us. I will speak to mother about that; she is wise!"

Like a dutiful son, the giant turned on his heel, descended the cliffs,
and went straight home to consult with his mother.
CHAPTER TWO.
UNEXPECTED MEETINGS, ALARMS, AND CONFIDENCES.
"Mother, I have been thinking," said Chingatok, as he crept into his hut
and sat down on a raised bench of moss.
"That is not news, my son; you think much. You are not like other men.
They think little and eat much."
The stout little woman looked up through the smoke of her
cooking-lamp and smiled, but her big son was too much absorbed in his
thoughts to observe her pleasantry, so she continued the cooking of a
walrus chop in silence.
"The Kablunets are not to be seen, mother," resumed Chingatok. "I
have looked for them every day for a long time, and begin to weary.
My thought is now to launch my kayak when we come to open water,
load it with meat, take four spears and more lines than a strong hunter
needs for a whole season; then paddle away south to discover the land
of the Kablunets. They must be poor; they may be starving. I will guide
them to our home, and show them this land of plenty."
He paused abruptly, and looked at his mother with solemn anxiety, for
he was well aware that he had given her food for profound reflection.
We feel tempted here to repeat our remark about the strong
resemblance between different members of the human family, but
refrain.
This untutored woman of the Arctic lands met her son's proposition
with the well-known reply of many civilised persons.
"Of what use would it be, my son? No good can come of searching out
these poor lands. You cannot benefit the miserable Kablunets. Perhaps

they are savage and fierce; and you are sure to meet with dangers by
the way. Worse--you may die!"
"Mother," returned Chingatok, "when the white bear stands up with his
claws above my head and his mouth a-gape, does my hand tremble or
my spear fail?"
"No, my son."
"Then why do you speak to me of danger and death?"
Toolooha was not gifted with argumentative powers. She relapsed into
silence and lamp-smoke.
But her son was not to be so easily dissuaded. He adopted a line of
reasoning which never failed.
"Mother," he said, sadly, "it may be that you are right, and I am of too
fearful a spirit to venture far away from you by myself; I will remain
here if you think me a coward."
"Don't say so, Chingatok. You know what I think. Go, if you must go,
but who will hunt for your poor old mother when you are gone?"
This was an appeal which the astute little woman knew to be very
powerful with her son. She buried her head in the smoke again, and left
the question to simmer.
Chingatok was tender-hearted. He said nothing, but, as