m-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. And thou didst drag me back to life,
Nam-Bok, when the sea closed over me and I was sucked down to the
black rocks. Together we hungered and bore the chill of the frost, and
together we crawled beneath the one fur and lay close to each other.
And because of these things, and the kindness in which I stood to
thee, it grieves me sore that thou shouldst return such a remarkable
liar. We cannot understand, and our heads be dizzy with the things
thou hast spoken. It is not good, and there has been much talk in the
council. Wherefore we send thee away, that our heads may remain clear
and strong and be not troubled by the unaccountable things."

"These things thou speakest of be shadows," Koogah took up the strain.
"From the shadow-world thou hast brought them, and to the shadow-world
thou must return them. Thy bidarka be ready, and the tribespeople
wait. They may not sleep until thou art gone."

Nam-Bok was perplexed, but hearkened to the voice of the head man.

"If thou art Nam-Bok," Opee-Kwan was saying, "thou art a fearful and
most wonderful liar; if thou art the shadow of Nam-Bok, then thou
speakest of shadows, concerning which it is not good that living men
have knowledge. This great village thou hast spoken of we deem the
village of shadows. Therein flutter the souls of the dead; for the
dead be many and the living few. The dead do not come back. Never have
the dead come back--save thou with thy wonder-tales. It is not meet
that the dead come back, and should we permit it, great trouble may be
our portion."

Nam-Bok knew his people well and was aware that the voice of the
council was supreme. So he allowed himself to be led down to the
water's edge, where he was put aboard his