I saw that sooner or later I must explain how I knew more than the men of his time, and so I told him as much of my story as I thought he could understand.
"So you see," I said, in conclusion, "I am really one of your remote descendants."
"You tell a marvelous story," the chief declared; "and if it be also a true one, you may be a great help to my people. Come to my hut and I will talk with you of the things that should be done. If you can advise me well you shall be my chief counselor—even before your beard grows."
After we had eaten some of the meat of the elk, I went into the chief's hut and he bade me sit down near the fire. The smoke was very thick.
"This is all wrong," I said. "You should have a chimney." Then I explained to him how the hot air was light and would carry off the smoke through a chimney.
"It would be good," he replied, "to have less smoke. But we could not take time to build such a contrivance as you speak of. Game so soon becomes scarce that we have to move our houses to a new place very often. We could not build those stone chimneys so often. Besides, if there was no hole in the roof, the hut would be dark."
"You must cut a hole in the side of the hut."
"It would be too cold at night," he answered.
"But we do not leave the hole open. We fill it with something hard and like ice. We call it 'glass.'"
"And how can it be had?"
"It is made," I said, "of sand and of—of soda, I think."
"Sand I know," said the chief; "but what is soda?"
"Maybe it's potash," I suggested.
"I never heard of that either," said the chief, with a smile I did n't like. "But what is it?"
