nd there will be no room for the tribes of the Raven. Wherefore
it is meet that we fight with them till none are left. Then will
we hold the passes and the land, and perhaps our children and our
children's children shall flourish and grow fat. There is a great
struggle to come, when Wolf and Raven shall grapple; but Keesh will
not fight, nor will he let his people fight. So it is not well that he
should take to him my daughter. Thus have I spoken, I, Gnob, chief of
the Tana-naw."

"But the white men are good and great," Keesh made answer. "The white
men have taught us many things. The white men have given us blankets
and knives and guns, such as we have never made and never could make.
I remember in what manner we lived before they came. I was unborn
then, but I have it from my father. When we went on the hunt we
must creep so close to the moose that a spear-cast would cover the
distance. To-day we use the white man's rifle, and farther away than
can a child's cry be heard. We ate fish and meat and berries--there
was nothing else to eat--and we ate without salt. How many be there
among you who care to go back to the fish and meat without salt?"

It would have sunk home, had not Madwan leaped to his feet ere silence
could come. "And first a question to thee, Keesh. The white man up at
the Big House tells you that it is wrong to kill. Yet do we not know
that the white men kill? Have we forgotten the great fight on the
Koyokuk? or the great fight at Nuklukyeto, where three white men
killed twenty of the Tozikakats? Do you think we no longer remember
the three men of the Tana-naw that the white man Macklewrath killed?
Tell me, O Keesh, why does the Shaman Brown teach you that it is wrong
to fight, when all his brothers fight?"

"Nay, nay, there is no need to answer," Gnob piped, while Keesh
struggled with the paradox. "It is very simple. The Good Man Brown
would hold the Raven tight whilst his brothers pluck the feathers." He
raised his voice. "But so long as there is one Tana-naw to strike
a blow, or one maiden to bear a man-child, the Raven shall not be
plucked!"

Gnob turned to a husky young man across the fire. "And what sayest
thou, Makamuk, who art brother to Su-Su?"

Makamuk came to his feet. A long face-scar lifted his upper lip into
a perpetual grin which belied the glowing ferocity of his eyes.
"This day," he began with cunning irrelevance, "I came by the Trader
Macklewrath's cabin. And in the door I saw a c