joke and song went around, and Akoon told a story
that made the rafters echo. There were no tears or sighs at that table.
It was no more than fit that Klakee-Nah should die as he had lived, and
none knew this better than El-Soo, with her artist sympathy. The old
roystering crowd was there, and, as of old, three frost-bitten sailors
were there, fresh from the long traverse from the Arctic, survivors of a
ship's company of seventy-four. At Klakee-Nah's back were four old men,
all that were left him of the slaves of his youth. With rheumy eyes they
saw to his needs, with palsied hands filling his glass or striking him on
the back between the shoulders when death stirred and he coughed and
gasped.

It was a wild night, and as the hours passed and the fun laughed and
roared along, death stirred more restlessly in Klakee-Nah's throat. Then
it was that he sent for Porportuk. And Porportuk came in from the
outside frost to look with disapproving eyes upon the meat and wine on
the table for which he had paid. But as he looked down the length of
flushed faces to the far end and saw the face of El-Soo, the light in his
eyes flared up, and for a moment the disapproval vanished.

Place was made for him at Klakee-Nah's side, and a glass placed before
him. Klakee-Nah, with his own hands, filled the glass with fervent
spirits. "Drink!" he cried. "Is it not good?"

And Porportuk's eyes watered as he nodded his head and smacked his lips.

"When, in your own house, have you had such drink?" Klakee-Nah demanded.

"I will not deny that the drink is good to this old throat of mine,"
Porportuk made answer, and hesitated for the speech to complete the
thought.

"But it costs overmuch," Klakee-Nah roared, completing it for him.

Porportuk winced at the laughter that went down the table. His eyes
burned malevolently. "We were boys together, of the same age," he said.
"In your throat is death. I am still alive and strong."

An ominous murmur arose from the company. Klakee-Nah coughed and
strangled, and the old slaves smote him between the shoulders. He
emerged gasping, and waved his hand to still the threatening rumble.

"You have grudged the very fire in your house because the wood cost
overmuch!" he cried. "You have grudged life. To live cost overmuch, and
you have refused to pay the price. Your life has been like a cabin where
the fire is out and there are no blankets on the floor." He signalled to
a slave to fill