"
But Koogah, shoving Nam-Bok clear or the beach, tore the shawl from her
shoulders and flung it into the bidarka.
"It is cold in the long nights," she wailed; "and the frost is prone to
nip old bones."
"The thing is a shadow," the bone-scratcher answered, "and shadows
cannot keep thee warm."
Nam-Bok stood up that his voice might carry. "O Bask-Wah-Wan, mother
that bore me!" he called. "Listen to the words of Nam-Bok, thy son.
There be room in his bidarka for two, and he would that thou earnest
with him. For his journey is to where there are fish and oil in plenty.
There the frost comes not, and life is easy, and the things of iron do
the work of men. Wilt thou come, O Bask-Wah-Wan?"
She debated a moment, while the bidarka drifted swiftly from her, then
raised her voice to a quavering treble. "I am old, Nam-Bok, and soon I
shall pass down among the shadows. But I have no wish to go before my
time. I am old, Nam-Bok, and I am afraid."
A shaft of light shot across the dim-lit sea and wrapped boat and man
in a splendor of red and gold. Then a hush fell upon the fisherfolk, and
only was heard the moan of the off-shore wind and the cries of the gulls
flying low in the air.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150