A reason
for this appeared in time. Half a dozen men one day took the stern-boat
and went a-fishing. They came back white-faced, with a story of a giant
squid with arms four times as long as the boat, that had risen out of
the sea and tried to pull them under. Only their skill as rowers had
saved them. Nils remembered the kraken, of ancient legends, and thought
he could see why the Skroelings never ventured out to sea in their frail
canoes. This put an end to plans for exploring along the coast.
The winter was colder than they had expected. This land, so much further
south than Norway, was bitten by frost as Norway never was. There is
something in intense cold which is inhuman. When men are shut up
together in exile by it, all that is bad in them is likely to crop out.
It might have been worse but for the fortunate friendliness of the
Skroelings. When scurvy appeared in the camp, their first acquaintance,
Munumqueh (woodchuck) had his women brew a drink which cured it. He
showed the white men also how to make pemmican, the compressed meat
ration of native hunters, and how to construct and use a birch canoe, a
pair of snowshoes, and a fire-drill. Gustav Sigerson died in the spring,
and Nils was chosen captain. He and Munumqueh became great cronies, and
exchanged names, Nils being thereafter known to his native friends as
the Woodchuck, and bestowing upon Munumqueh the proud name of his
grandfather, Nils the Bear-Slayer.
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