“Probably we’d better turn back.”

“Huh!” sniffed the old man. “‘Oo cares for the bloomin’ ’eathen?  ’Armless they is, ’armless as babies.”

They continued their travel, but the old man seemed distinctly uneasy.  He saw heads here and there.  And soon, Dave, who did not have the trained eye of the seaman, saw one also.  At once he decided that they must turn back to the submarine.

Hardly had they taken this course, when heads seemed to be peering out at them from every ice-pile.  It was when they were crossing a broad, flat pan that matters came to a crisis.  Suddenly brown, fur-clad figures emerged from the piles at the edge of the pan and approached them.  Their soft, rawhide boots made no sound on the ice.  Their lips were ominously silent.  There was a sinister gleam to the spears which they bore.

Half-way to the men, at a sign from the leader, they all paused.  Then a little knot gathered about the leader.  Three men did the greater part of the talking.  They appeared to be urging the leader to action.

Dave, who knew that the old seaman was acquainted with several native dialects, said: 

“What do you make of it?”

“Can’t get ’em straight,” said Jarvis.  “But them three ’eathen that’s talkin’ loudest, them’s ’eathen from another tribe ‘er somethin’.  They’re not the right color.  Their eyes hain’t right an’ they don’t speak the language right.  I think they got it in their ’eads that we h’ought ter be pinched fer trespassin’ ‘er somethin’ the like.  But we’ll fight the bloomin’ ‘eathen, we will, h’if they start a bloomin’ rumpus.”

“What with?” smiled Dave.

The old seaman looked nonplused for a moment.

“Ho, well,” he grinned, then.  “Can’t be any ‘arm in goin’ with the bloomin’ idgits a piece, h’if they request it.”

The horde of natives did, at last, request it in a rather forceful and threatening way.  The three men, whom Jarvis had singled out as “’eathen from another tribe,” became so insulting that Dave could scarcely restrain Jarvis from braining their leader on the spot.

They were led to the edge of the ice-floe where, hidden in a remote corner, was an oomiak, a native boat of skins.

From here they were quickly paddled over to the shore.  They were then led up a steep bank, down a street lined with innumerable dome-like houses covered with walrus-skin, and were finally dragged into the largest of these houses and rudely thrust into an inner room.  The door slammed, and Jarvis laughed.

“Humph!” he chuckled.  “Fancy putting a man in a bloomin’ jail made of deer skin.  Much ‘ead as the bloomin’ ’eathen ’ave.  Let’s ’ave a look at ’er.”

He scratched a match and the look of astonishment that Dave found on his face, as he stared about the inclosure, caused him to laugh, in spite of their dilemma.

“H’ivory, walrus h’ivory!  Walls, floor and ceilin’ all h’ivory.  Who’d ever thought of that!” muttered the old seaman.  “Wood’ll burn and iron’ll rust; but h’ivory! h’ivory!  Who’d ever thought of that for a prison?”