There were several natives squatting down inside the hut, but they did not seem surprised when the three prisoners entered.  Others of the Esquimaux crowded into the ice house, until it was uncomfortably filled.  Then a native who seemed to be a leader began a long talk to the others.

Judging from his gestures he was telling about the fight at the airship and the capture of the captives.  At times he would be interrupted by those who wanted to question him.

At length the recital was done.  All the Esquimaux, save about half a dozen, crawled out of the hut.  One of those who remained placed an earthen pot over the flame of the stove, and soon a delicious smell filled the air.  Evidently something good was being cooked.

“It’s chicken pot-pie,” said Washington.  “How I does love chicken!”

Presently one of the natives removed the pot from the stove and set it in front of the captives.  The contents were steaming hot, and seemed to be some sort of meat stew, made with chunks of flesh, gravy and moss.

“How are we going to eat, without knives, forks or spoons?” asked Andy.

He soon found out.  The natives who had remained in the hut drew up to the pot.  They dipped their bare hands in, drew out pieces of meat and wads of the moss, and ate without ceremony.

“Fingers were made before forks,” quoted the professor.  “We’ll have to eat as the old cave-dwellers did.  Well, I’m hungry enough not to stand on politeness.”

He reached in the vessel and got some meat.  It was hot, but he did not mind that, and ate it with a relish.  Andy and Washington followed his example, and soon the travelers from the Monarch and the Esquimaux were eating together as if they had been friends all their lives.

When the rude meal had ended, the prisoners felt much better.  They were warm, their hunger was appeased, and, in spite of their many worries over the loss of the airship and their companions, they were so tired out that they felt very sleepy.  Soon the professor’s head nodded over, shortly Andy was snoring and in a little while Washington too slumbered.

They did not know how long they had slept, but they were suddenly and rudely awakened by being shaken.  Opening their eyes, they saw the hut was filled with Esquimaux, all clothed in suits of spotless white fur.

“These must all be chiefs,” remarked the professor.

With quick motions the natives bound their captives again, with stout thongs.  Then, like so many logs of wood, they were pulled out of the hut on their backs, a native outside hauling on one end of the skin ropes.

There was no telling what hour it was, for the sun shone as brightly as it had been doing for days past.  Once more the three men were tossed on sleds, and the dogs, driven by the Esquimaux, hauled them off.  But it was not a far journey this time.  In about fifteen minutes the sleds came to a stop, the prisoners were lifted off, and carried, as they could see, toward a large opening in a hill of ice and snow.