, falling at last with a vicious snap
and gleam upon the Boy. Then it was that for the first time he spoke.
"Nuh! nuh!" interrupted Muckluck, chattering volubly, and evidently
commending the Boy to the Shaman. Several of the old bucks laughed.
"He say Yukon Inua no like you."
"He think white men bring plague, bring devils."
"Got some money?" whispered Muckluck.
"Not here."
The Boy saw the moment when he would be turned out. He plunged his
hands down into his trousers pockets and fished up a knife, his
second-best one, fortunately.
"Tell him I'm all right, and he can give this to Yukon Inua with my
respects."
Muckluck explained and held up the shining object, blades open,
corkscrew curling attractively before the covetous eyes of the Shaman.
When he could endure the temptation no longer his two black claws shot
out, but Nicholas intercepted the much-envied object, while, as it
seemed, he drove a more advantageous bargain. Terms finally settled,
the Shaman seized the knife, shut it, secreted it with a final grunt,
and stood up.
Everyone made way for him. He jerked his loosely-jointed body over to
the sick man, lifted the seal-oil lamp with his shaky old hands, and
looked at the patient long and steadily. When he had set the lamp down
again, with a grunt, he put his black thumb on the wick and squeezed
out the light. When he came back to the fire, which had burnt low, he
pulled open his parki and drew out an ivory wand, and a long eagle's
feather with a fluffy white tuft of some sort at the end. He deposited
these solemnly, side by side, on the ground, about two feet apart.
Turning round to the dying fire, he took a stick, and with Nicholas's
help gathered the ashes up and laid them over the smouldering brands.
The ighloo was practically dark. No one dared speak save the yet
unabashed devil in the sick man, who muttered angrily. It was curious
to see how the coughing of the others, which in the Kachime had been
practically constant, was here almost silenced. Whether this was
achieved through awe and respect for the Shaman, or through nervous
absorption in the task he had undertaken, who shall say?
The Boy felt rather than saw that the Shaman had lain down between the
ivory wand and the eagle's feather. Each man sat as still as death,
listening, staring, waiting.
Presently a little jet of flame sprang up out of the ashes. The Shaman
lifted his head angrily, saw it was no human hand that had dare
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