"Look at those tousled heads! Bet you, they're lousy as hens!" "Talk to 'em, Raed," said Kit.

"Say something.

Ask 'em if they want to _chymo_." At the sound of this last word they turned their little sharp eyes brightly on Kit.
"_Chymo ?_" said Raed interrogatively.
Instantly they began to crowd round him, a dozen jabbering all at once.

Faster even than before they ran on, amid which we could now and then distinguish words which sounded like _oomiaksook_, _hennelay_, _cob-loo-nak_, _yemeck_.

These words, as we had read, meant _big ship_, _woman_, _Englishman_, _water_, respectively.