154 AN ESKIMO VILLAGE 



He drew nearer, and there was no mistaking the 

 face, with its brown eyes and high cheek-bones ; he 

 was an Eskimo. 



"Good-morning," said he; and "Aksunai," 

 said I, giving him the fine old Eskimo greeting. 

 His face lit up at the sound of it, and "Ahaila," 

 he answered in proper Eskimo style ; then we fell to 

 chatting. 



There we stood upon the stony path and talked, 

 and I found myself listening to as strange a tale 

 of wanderings as I have ever heard. First he spoke 

 in English, for it seemed his native tongue was half- 

 forgotten ; but soon he fell back on Eskimo, speak- 

 ing the words with a queer half-foreign accent. 



" I was born in this village of Okak," said he ; 



maybe you knew my father ; his name was 

 Samuel. No ? Well, they tell me he has been dead 

 these many years, and I shall see his grave in God's 

 garden. I went away on a ship when I was a young 

 man, for I would see the world, and I had heard of 

 much money to be earned. For many years I have 

 sailed in ships, always working, and sometimes 

 doing work on land. I have been to New York and 

 London and Madrid and the towns of South 

 America, and the cities are very fine, and the people 

 are a great multitude. But I was always thinking 

 of Labrador ; and I was alone. Now I have come 

 home, and I am thankful. Yes, the world is very 

 great and the cities are very wonderful, but 

 Labrador is the best land of all." 



He gazed about him with a wistful smile on his 

 bronzed face ; he feasted his eyes once more upon 



