“I wonder what is next on the program?” asked Andy.

In a few minutes an old woman, bearing a stone basin full of some liquid, and a horn cup, approached them, and, filling the smaller vessel, offered the old professor something to drink.  As she neared him she caught sight of his white face and long whitish beard and hair, and gave such a start that she nearly dropped the basin she was carrying.  She peered down into the old man’s face and muttered something that sounded like: 

“Ingliss!”

“What has she got and what is she saying?” asked the hunter.

“I don’t know what she said,” replied Amos Henderson, “but she has given me some good milk.”

Then, going from one to the other, the old woman, who seemed strangely agitated as she saw so many white faces, poured out the reindeers’ milk, which made a welcome drink.

“They are treating us better than I thought they would,” remarked Andy.  “Maybe we will not be so badly off as I feared.”

Suddenly, from the midst of the circle of natives, a voice arose.  The captives glanced quickly over in the direction, and saw that the man in the white furs, who had superintended their capture, was addressing the council.

His words were strange to the prisoners, but they could tell by his gestures he was describing how he had found the white men, who had come in the wonderful airship.  At times the narrator would point in the direction of the captives.  Again he would show by gestures how the airship had settled down on the ice.  He was interrupted by many questions and, at the end of his tale, a silence fell over the crowd of natives.

Then, as if by some signal, all the lights save the large central lamp were extinguished.  By the glow from that the prisoners could see their captors, one by one, filing from the cave.

“They are leaving us all alone,” said the inventor.  “At any rate they have done us no harm, and perhaps may not.  If we could only get back to the ship; that would be all I’d ask,” and he sighed as he thought of his beloved craft.

For a long while the captives sat in silence, brooding over their fate.  Worn out by the trials of the day, the two farmers at last fell asleep.  Washington, too, was soon snoring, and the two boys felt drowsy.  The regular breathing of the professor told that he, also, had forgotten his troubles in dreamland, and Andy was about to drop off nodding, when he was startled by a soft foot-fall.  He sat up on the icy floor of the cave where he had stretched himself out.

“Who’s there?” he asked sharply.

“Sh!  Ingliss!” exclaimed a soft voice.  “No spik!  Me like Ingliss!  Me Dirola!”

“Who are you?” asked the old hunter again, but in a whisper.

“Me like Ingliss!” was the reply.  “They kill!  Me save!  You come!  All Ingliss!”

Then, into the glare of the big lamp, glided the strange woman who had brought the milk.