“I know not what the southern Eskimos believe, for I have met them seldom. But our angekoks believe in torngaks, familiar spirits, which they say meet and talk with them. There is no torngak. It is a lie.”

“But you believe in one great and good Spirit, don’t you?” asked the seaman, with a serious look.

“Yes; I believe in One,” returned the Eskimo in a low voice, “One who made me, and all things, and who must be good.”

“There are people in my land who deny that there is One, because they never saw, or felt, or heard Him—so they say they cannot know,” said Rooney. Angut looked surprised.

“They must be fools,” he said. “I see a sledge, and I know that some man made it—for who ever heard of a sledge making itself? I see a world, and I know that the Great Spirit made it, because a world cannot make itself. The greatest Spirit must be One, because two greatests are impossible, and He is good—because good is better than evil, and the Greatest includes the Best.”

The seaman stared, as well he might, while the Eskimo spoke these words, gazing dreamily at the lamp-flame, as if he were communing with his own spirit rather than with his companion. Evidently Okiok had a glimmering of what he meant, for he looked pleased as well as solemn.

It might be tedious to continue the conversation. Leaving them therefore to their profound discussions, we will turn to another and very different social group.