"I have paddled far. The day has been long, and I am tired.
Now I will sleep, and to-morrow we will have further talk upon the
things I have seen."
Bask-Wah-Wan, hobbling fearfully in advance, proud indeed, yet awed by
her wonderful son, led him to her _igloo_ and stowed him away among the
greasy, ill-smelling furs. But the men lingered by the fire, and a
council was held wherein was there much whispering and low-voiced
discussion.
An hour passed, and a second, and Nam-Bok slept, and the talk went on.
The evening sun dipped toward the northwest, and at eleven at night was
nearly due north. Then it was that the head man and the bone-scratcher
separated themselves from the council and aroused Nam-Bok. He blinked up
into their faces and turned on his side to sleep again. Opee-Kwan
gripped him by the arm and kindly but firmly shook his senses back into
him.
"Come, Nam-Bok, arise!" he commanded. "It be time."
"Another feast!" Nam-Bok cried. "Nay, I am not hungry. Go on with the
eating and let me sleep."
"Time to be gone!" Koogah thundered.
But Opee-Kwan spoke more softly. "Thou wast bidarka-mate with me when we
were boys," he said. "Together we first chased the seal and drew the
salmon from the traps.
Pages:
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147