Children of the Frost E-Book

Jack London

• Herausgeber: ShadowPOET
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Children of the Frost

By Jack London
Publisher: ShadowPOET
IN THE FORESTS OF THE NORTH
A weary journey beyond the last scrub timber and straggling copses, into the heart of the Barrens where the niggard North is supposed to deny the Earth, are to be found great sweeps of forests and stretches of smiling land. But this the world is just beginning to know. The world's explorers have known it, from time to time, but hitherto they have never returned to tell the world.
The Barrens—well, they are the Barrens, the bad lands of the Arctic, the deserts of the Circle, the bleak and bitter home of the musk-ox and the lean plains wolf. So Avery Van Brunt found them, treeless and cheerless, sparsely clothed with moss and lichens, and altogether uninviting. At least so he found them till he penetrated to the white blank spaces on the map, and came upon undreamed-of rich spruce forests and unrecorded Eskimo tribes. It had been his intention, (and his bid for fame), to break up these white blank spaces and diversify them with the black markings of mountain-chains, sinks and basins, and sinuous river courses; and it was with added delight that he came to speculate upon the possibilities of timber belts and native villages.
Avery Van Brunt, or, in full distinction, Professor A. Van Brunt of the Geological Survey, was second in command of the expedition, and first in command of the sub-expedition which he had led on a side tour of some half a thousand miles up one of the branches of the Thelon and which he was now leading into one of his unrecorded villages. At his back plodded eight men, two of them French-Canadian voyageurs, and the remainder strapping Crees from Manitoba-way. He, alone, was full-blooded Saxon, and his blood was pounding fiercely through his veins to the traditions of his race. Clive and Hastings, Drake and Raleigh, Hengest and Horsa, walked with him. First of all men of his breed was he to enter this lone Northland village, and at the thought an exultancy came upon him, an exaltation, and his followers noted that his leg-weariness fell from him and that he insensibly quickened the pace.
The village emptied itself, and a motley crowd trooped out to meet him, men in the forefront, with bows and spears clutched menacingly, and women and children faltering timidly in the rear. Van Brunt lifted his right arm and made the universal peace sign, a sign which all peoples know, and the villagers answered in peace. But to his chagrin, a skin-clad man ran forward and thrust out his hand with a familiar "Hello." He was a bearded man, with cheeks and brow bronzed to copper-brown, and in him Van Brunt knew his kind.
"Who are you?" he asked, gripping the extended hand. "Andrée?" "Who's Andrée?" the man asked back.
Van Brunt looked at him more sharply. "By George, you've been here some time."
"Five years," the man answered, a dim flicker of pride in his eyes. "But come on, let's talk."
"Let them camp alongside of me," he answered Van Brunt's glance at his party. "Old Tantlatch will take care of them. Come on."
He swung off in a long stride, Van Brunt following at his heels through the village. In irregular fashion, wherever the ground favored, the lodges of moose hide were pitched. Van Brunt ran his practised eye over them and calculated.
"Two hundred, not counting the young ones," he summed up.

Leseprobe

ChildrenoftheFrost

ByJackLondon

Publisher: ShadowPOET

INTHEFORESTSOFTHENORTH

Awearyjourneybeyondthelastscrubtimberandstragglingcopses,intotheheart of the Barrens where the niggard North is supposed to deny the Earth,aretobefoundgreatsweepsofforestsandstretchesofsmilingland.Butthisthe world is just beginning to know. The world's explorers have known it,fromtimetotime,buthithertotheyhaveneverreturnedtotelltheworld.

The Barrens—well, they are the Barrens, the bad lands of the Arctic, thedeserts of the Circle, the bleak and bitter home of the musk-ox and the leanplains wolf. So Avery Van Brunt found them, treeless and cheerless, sparselyclothed with moss and lichens, and altogether uninviting. At least so he foundthem till he penetrated to the white blank spaces on the map, and came uponundreamed-of rich spruce forests and unrecorded Eskimo tribes. It had beenhis intention, (and his bid for fame), to break up these white blank spaces anddiversify them with the black markings of mountain-chains, sinks and basins,and sinuous river courses; and it was with added delight that he came tospeculateuponthepossibilitiesoftimberbeltsandnativevillages.

AveryVanBrunt,or,infulldistinction,ProfessorA.VanBruntoftheGeological Survey, was second in command of the expedition, and first incommand of the sub-expedition which he had led on a side tour of some half athousand miles up one of the branches of the Thelon and which he was nowleading into one of his unrecorded villages. At his back plodded eight men,two of them French-Canadian voyageurs, and the remainder strapping Creesfrom Manitoba-way. He, alone, was full-blooded Saxon, and his blood waspounding fiercely through his veins to the traditions of his race. Clive andHastings,DrakeandRaleigh,HengestandHorsa,walkedwithhim.FirstofallmenofhisbreedwashetoenterthisloneNorthlandvillage,andatthethoughtan exultancy came upon him, an exaltation, and his followers noted that hisleg-wearinessfellfromhimandthatheinsensiblyquickenedthepace.

The village emptied itself, and a motley crowd trooped out to meet him, menin the forefront, with bows and spears clutched menacingly, and women andchildren faltering timidly in the rear. Van Brunt lifted his right arm and madethe universal peace sign, a sign which all peoples know, and the villagersanswered in peace. But to his chagrin, a skin-clad man ran forward and thrustout his hand with a familiar "Hello." He was a bearded man, with cheeks andbrowbronzedtocopper-brown,andinhimVanBruntknewhiskind.

"Whoareyou?"heasked,grippingtheextendedhand."Andrée?""Who'sAndrée?"themanaskedback.

VanBruntlookedathimmoresharply."ByGeorge,you'vebeenheresometime."

"Fiveyears,"themananswered,adimflickerofprideinhiseyes."Butcomeon,let'stalk."

"Letthemcampalongsideofme,"heansweredVanBrunt'sglanceathisparty."OldTantlatchwilltakecareofthem.Comeon."

He swung off in a long stride, Van Brunt following at his heels through thevillage.Inirregularfashion,whereverthegroundfavored,thelodgesofmoosehidewerepitched.VanBruntranhispractisedeyeoverthemandcalculated.

"Twohundred,notcountingtheyoungones,"hesummedup.

The man nodded. "Pretty close to it. But here's where I live, out of the thick ofit, you know—more privacy and all that. Sit down. I'll eat with you when yourmen get something cooked up. I've forgotten what tea tastes like.... Five yearsand never a taste or smell.... Any tobacco?... Ah, thanks, and a pipe? Good.Nowforafire-stickandwe'llseeiftheweedhaslostitscunning."

He scratched the match with the painstaking care of the woodsman, cherishedits young flame as though there were never another in all the world, and drewinthefirstmouthfulofsmoke.Thisheretainedmeditativelyforatime,and

blew out through his pursed lips slowly and caressingly. Then his face seemedto soften as he leaned back, and a soft blur to film his eyes. He sighed heavily,happily,withimmeasurablecontent,andthensaidsuddenly:

"God!Butthattastesgood!"

VanBruntnoddedsympathetically."Fiveyears,yousay?"

"Fiveyears."Themansighedagain."Andyou,Ipresume,wishtoknowaboutit,beingnaturallycurious,andthisasufficientlystrangesituation,andallthat.But it's not much. I came in from Edmonton after musk-ox, and like Pike andtherestofthem,hadmymischances,onlyIlostmypartyandoutfit.Starvation,hardship,theregulartale,youknow,solesurvivorandallthat,tillIcrawledintoTantlatch's,here,onhandandknee."

"Fiveyears,"VanBruntmurmuredretrospectively,asthoughturningthingsoverinhismind.

"FiveyearsonFebruarylast.IcrossedtheGreatSlaveearlyinMay—""Andyouare...Fairfax?"VanBruntinterjected.

Themannodded.

"Letmesee...John,Ithinkitis,JohnFairfax."

"Howdidyouknow?"Fairfaxqueriedlazily,half-absorbedincurlingsmoke-spiralsupwardinthequietair.

"Thepaperswerefullofitatthetime.Prevanche—"

"Prevanche!"Fairfaxsatup,suddenlyalert."HewaslostintheSmokeMountains."

"Yes,buthepulledthroughandcameout."

Fairfax settled back again and resumed his smoke-spirals. "I am glad to hearit," he remarked reflectively. "Prevanche was a bully fellow if he did haveideasabouthead-straps,thebeggar.Andhepulledthrough?Well,I'mglad."

Five years ... the phrase drifted recurrently through Van Brunt's thought, andsomehow the face of Emily Southwaithe seemed to rise up and take formbefore him. Five years ... A wedge of wild-fowl honked low overhead and atsight of the encampment veered swiftly to the north into the smouldering sun.Van Brunt could not follow them. He pulled out his watch. It was an hour pastmidnight. The northward clouds flushed bloodily, and rays of sombre-red shotsouthward, firing the gloomy woods with a lurid radiance. The air was inbreathless calm, not a needle quivered, and the least sounds of the camp weredistinct and clear as trumpet calls. The Crees andvoyageurs felt the spirit of itand mumbled in dreamy undertones, and the cook unconsciously subdued theclatterofpotandpan.Somewhereachildwascrying,andfromthedepthsof

theforest,likeasilverthread,roseawoman'svoiceinmournfulchant:"O-o-o-o-o-o-a-haa-ha-a-ha-aa-a-a,O-o-o-o-o-o-a-ha-a-ha-a."

Van Brunt shivered and rubbed the backs of his hands briskly."Andtheygavemeupfordead?"hiscompanionaskedslowly."Well,younevercameback,soyourfriends—"

"Promptlyforgot."Fairfaxlaughedharshly,defiantly."Whydidn'tyoucomeout?"

"Partly disinclination, I suppose, and partly because of circumstances overwhich I had no control. You see, Tantlatch, here, was down with a broken legwhen I made his acquaintance,—a nasty fracture,—and I set it for him and gothim into shape. I stayed some time, getting my strength back. I was the firstwhite man he had seen, and of course I seemed very wise and showed hispeople no end of things. Coached them up in military tactics, among otherthings, so that they conquered the four other tribal villages, (which you havenot yet seen), and came to rule the land. And they naturally grew to think agooddealofme,somuchsothatwhenIwasreadytogotheywouldn'thearofit. Were most hospitable, in fact. Put a couple of guards over me and watchedme day and night. And then Tantlatch offered me inducements,—in a sense,inducements,—so to say, and as it didn't matter much one way or the other, Ireconciledmyselftoremaining."

"IknewyourbrotheratFreiburg.IamVanBrunt."

Fairfax reached forward impulsively and shook his hand. "You were Billy'sfriend,eh?PoorBilly!Hespokeofyouoften."

"Rum meeting place, though," he added, casting an embracing glance over theprimordial landscape and listening for a moment to the woman's mournfulnotes."Hermanwasclawedbyabear,andshe'stakingithard."

"Beastly life!" Van Brunt grimaced his disgust. "I suppose, after five years ofit,civilizationwillbesweet?Whatdoyousay?"

Fairfax's face took on a stolid expression. "Oh, I don't know. At least they'rehonest folk and live according to their lights. And then they are amazinglysimple. No complexity about them, no thousand and one subtle ramificationsto every single emotion they experience. They love, fear, hate, are angered, ormade happy, in common, ordinary, and unmistakable terms. It may be abeastly life, but at least it is easy to live. No philandering, no dallying. If awoman likes you, she'll not be backward in telling you so. If she hates you,she'll tell you so, and then, if you feel inclined, you can beat her, but the thingis, she knows precisely what you mean, and you know precisely what shemeans.Nomistakes,nomisunderstandings.Ithasitscharm,aftercivilization'sfitfulfever.Comprehend?"

"No, it's a pretty good life," he continued, after a pause; "good enough for me,andIintendtostaywithit."

Van Brunt lowered his head in a musing manner, and an imperceptible smileplayed on his mouth. No philandering, no dallying, no misunderstanding.Fairfax also was taking it hard, he thought, just because Emily Southwaithehadbeenmistakenlyclawedbyabear.Andnotabadsortofabear,either,wasCarltonSouthwaithe.

"Butyouarecomingalongwithme,"VanBruntsaiddeliberately."No,I'mnot."

"Yes,youare."

"Life's too easy here, I tell you." Fairfax spoke with decision. "I understandeverything, and I am understood. Summer and winter alternate like the sunflashing through the palings of a fence, the seasons are a blur of light andshade, and time slips by, and life slips by, and then ... a wailing in the forest,andthedark.Listen!"

He held up his hand, and the silver thread of the woman's sorrow rose throughthesilenceandthecalm.Fairfaxjoinedinsoftly.

"O-o-o-o-o-o-a-haa-ha-a-ha-aa-a-a, O-o-o-o-o-o-a-ha-a-ha-a," he sang. "Can'tyou hear it? Can't you see it? The women mourning? the funeral chant? myhair white-locked and patriarchal? my skins wrapped in rude splendor aboutme?myhunting-spearbymyside?Andwhoshallsayitisnotwell?"

VanBruntlookedathimcoolly."Fairfax,youareadamnedfool.Fiveyearsofthisisenoughtoknockanyman,andyouareinanunhealthy,morbidcondition.Further,CarltonSouthwaitheisdead."

Van Brunt filled his pipe and lighted it, the while watching slyly and withalmost professional interest. Fairfax's eyes flashed on the instant, his fistsclenched, he half rose up, then his muscles relaxed and he seemed to brood.Michael, the cook, signalled that the meal was ready, but Van Brunt motionedback to delay. The silence hung heavy, and he fell to analyzing the forestscents, the odors of mould and rotting vegetation, the resiny smells of pinecones and needles, the aromatic savors of many camp-smokes. Twice Fairfaxlookedup,butsaidnothing,andthen:

"And...Emily...?"

"Threeyearsawidow;stillawidow."

Anotherlongsilencesettleddown,tobebrokenbyFairfaxfinallywithanaïvesmile."Iguessyou'reright,VanBrunt.I'llgoalong."

"I knew you would." Van Brunt laid his hand on Fairfax's shoulder. "Ofcourse,onecannot know,butIimagine—foroneinherposition—shehashad

offers—"

"Whendoyoustart?"Fairfaxinterrupted.

"After the men have had some sleep. Which reminds me, Michael is gettingangry,socomeandeat."

After supper, when the Crees and voyageurs had rolled into their blankets,snoring,thetwomenlingeredbythedyingfire.Therewasmuchtotalkabout,

—wars and politics and explorations, the doings of men and the happening ofthings, mutual friends, marriages, deaths,—five years of history for whichFairfaxclamored.

"SotheSpanishfleetwasbottledupinSantiago,"VanBruntwassaying,whena young woman stepped lightly before him and stood by Fairfax's side. Shelookedswiftlyintohisface,thenturnedatroubledgazeuponVanBrunt.

"ChiefTantlatch'sdaughter,sortofprincess,"Fairfaxexplained,withanhonestflush."Oneoftheinducements,inshort,tomakemestay.Thom,thisisVanBrunt,friendofmine."

Van Brunt held out his hand, but the woman maintained a rigid repose quite inkeeping with her general appearance. Not a line of her face softened, not afeatureunbent.Shelookedhimstraightintheeyes,herownpiercing,questioning,searching.

"Precious lot she understands," Fairfax laughed. "Her first introduction, youknow.Butasyouweresaying,withtheSpanishfleetbottledupinSantiago?"

Thom crouched down by her husband's side, motionless as a bronze statue,only her eyes flashing from face to face in ceaseless search. And Avery VanBrunt, as he talked on and on, felt a nervousness under the dumb gaze. In themidst of his most graphic battle descriptions, he would become suddenlyconscious of the black eyes burning into him, and would stumble and floundertill he could catch the gait and go again. Fairfax, hands clasped round knees,pipe out, absorbed, spurred him on when he lagged, and repictured the worldhethoughthehadforgotten.

One hour passed, and two, and Fairfax rose reluctantly to his feet. "AndCronje was cornered, eh? Well, just wait a moment till I run over to Tantlatch.He'll be expecting you, and I'll arrange for you to see him after breakfast. Thatwillbeallright,won'tit?"

He went off between the pines, and Van Brunt found himself staring intoThom's warm eyes. Five years, he mused, and she can't be more than twentynow. A most remarkable creature. Being Eskimo, she should have a little flatexcuse for a nose, and lo, it is neither broad nor flat, but aquiline, with nostrilsdelicately and sensitively formed as any fine lady's of a whiter breed—theIndianstrainsomewhere,beassured,AveryVanBrunt.And,AveryVanBrunt,

don'tbenervous,shewon'teatyou;she'sonlyawoman,andnotabad-lookingone at that. Oriental rather than aborigine. Eyes large and fairly wide apart,with just the faintest hint of Mongol obliquity. Thom, you're an anomaly.You're out of place here among these Eskimos, even if your father is one.Where did your mother come from? or your grandmother? And Thom, mydear, you're a beauty, a frigid, frozen little beauty with Alaskan lava in yourblood,andpleasedon'tlookatmethatway.

He laughed and stood up. Her insistent stare disconcerted him. A dog wasprowling among the grub-sacks. He would drive it away and place them intosafety against Fairfax's return. But Thom stretched out a detaining hand andstoodup,facinghim.

"You?" she said, in the Arctic tongue which differs little from Greenland toPointBarrow."You?"

And the swift expression of her face demanded all for which "you" stood, hisreasonforexistence,hispresencethere,hisrelationtoherhusband—everything.

"Brother,"heansweredinthesametongue,withasweepinggesturetothesouth."Brotherswebe,yourmanandI."

Sheshookherhead."Itisnotgoodthatyoubehere.""AfteronesleepIgo."

"Andmyman?"shedemanded,withtremulouseagerness.

Van Brunt shrugged his shoulders. He was aware of a certain secret shame, ofan impersonal sort of shame, and an anger against Fairfax. And he felt thewarm blood in his face as he regarded the young savage. She was just awoman. That was all—a woman. The whole sordid story over again, over andoveragain,asoldasEveandyoungasthelastnewlove-light.

"My man! My man! My man!" she was reiterating vehemently, her facepassionatelydark,andtheruthlesstendernessoftheEternalWoman,theMate-Woman,lookingoutathimfromhereyes.

"Thom," he said gravely, in English, "you were born in the Northland forest,and you have eaten fish and meat, and fought with frost and famine, and livedsimply all the days of your life. And there are many things, indeed not simple,which you do not know and cannot come to understand. You do not knowwhat it is to long for the fleshpots afar, you cannot understand what it is toyearn for a fair woman's face. And the woman is fair, Thom, the woman isnobly fair. You have been woman to this man, and you have been your all, butyour all is very little, very simple. Too little and too simple, and he is an alienman. Him you have never known, you can never know. It is so ordained. Youheldhim in your arms, but younever held his heart, this manwith his blurring

seasonsandhisdreamsofabarbaricend.Dreamsanddream-dust,thatiswhathehasbeentoyou.Youclutchedatformandgrippedshadow,gaveyourselftoa man and bedded with the wraith of a man. In such manner, of old, did thedaughters of men whom the gods found fair. And, Thom, Thom, I should notlike to be John Fairfax in the night-watches of the years to come, in the night-watches, when his eyes shall see, not the sun-gloried hair of the woman by hisside,butthedarktressesofamateforsakenintheforestsoftheNorth."

Though she did not understand, she had listened with intense attention, asthough life hung on his speech. But she caught at her husband's name andcriedoutinEskimo:—

"Yes!Yes!Fairfax!Myman!"

"Poorlittlefool,howcouldhebeyourman?"

But she could not understand his English tongue, and deemed that she wasbeing trifled with. The dumb, insensate anger of the Mate-Woman flamed inher face, and it almost seemed to the man as though she crouched panther-likeforthespring.

He cursed softly to himself and watched the fire fade from her face and thesoftluminousglowoftheappealingwomanspringup,oftheappealingwomanwhoforegoesstrengthandpanopliesherselfwiselyinherweakness.

"He is my man," she said gently. "Never have I known other. It cannot be thatIshouldeverknowother.Norcanitbethatheshouldgofromme."

"Whohassaidheshallgofromthee?"hedemandedsharply,halfinexasperation,halfinimpotence.

"It is for thee to say he shall not go from me," she answered softly, a half-sobinherthroat.

VanBruntkickedtheembersofthefiresavagelyandsatdown.

"It is for thee to say. He is my man. Before all women he is my man. Thou artbig, thou art strong, and behold, I am very weak. See, I am at thy feet. It is fortheetodealwithme.Itisforthee."

"Get up!" He jerked her roughly erect and stood up himself. "Thou art awoman.Whereforethedirtisnoplaceforthee,northefeetofanyman."

"Heismyman."

"ThenJesusforgiveallmen!"VanBruntcriedoutpassionately."He is my man," she repeated monotonously, beseechingly."Heismybrother,"heanswered.

"MyfatherisChiefTantlatch.Heisapoweroverfivevillages.Iwillseethat

thefivevillagesbesearchedforthychoiceofallmaidens,thatthoumayeststayherebythybrother,anddwellincomfort."

"AfteronesleepIgo.""Andmyman?"

"Thymancomesnow.Behold!"

FromamongthegloomysprucescamethelightcarollingofFairfax'svoice.

As the day is quenched by a sea of fog, so his song smote the light out of herface. "It is the tongue of his own people," she said; "the tongue of his ownpeople."

Sheturned,withthefreemovementofalitheyounganimal,andmadeoffintotheforest.

"It's all fixed," Fairfax called as he came up. "His regal highness will receiveyouafterbreakfast."

"Haveyoutoldhim?"VanBruntasked.

"No.NorshallItellhimtillwe'rereadytopullout."

VanBruntlookedwithmoodyaffectionoverthesleepingformsofhismen."Ishallbegladwhenweareahundredleaguesuponourway,"hesaid.

Thomraisedtheskin-flapofherfather'slodge.Twomensatwithhim,andthethree looked at her with swift interest. But her face betokened nothing as sheentered and took seat quietly, without speech. Tantlatch drummed with hisknuckles on a spear-heft across his knees, and gazed idly along the path of asun-ray which pierced a lacing-hole and flung a glittering track across themurkyatmosphereofthelodge.Tohisright,athisshoulder,crouchedChugungatte, the shaman. Both were old men, and the weariness of manyyears brooded in their eyes. But opposite them sat Keen, a young man andchief favorite in the tribe. He was quick and alert of movement, and his blackeyesflashedfromfacetofaceinceaselessscrutinyandchallenge.

Silence reigned in the place. Now and again camp noises penetrated, and fromthe distance, faint and far, like the shadows of voices, came the wrangling ofboys in thin shrill tones. A dog thrust his head into the entrance and blinkedwolfishly at them for a space, the slaver dripping from his ivory-white fangs.After a time he growled tentatively, and then, awed by the immobility of thehuman figures, lowered his head and grovelled away backward. Tantlatchglancedapatheticallyathisdaughter.

"Andthyman,howisitwithhimandthee?"

"He sings strange songs," Thom made answer, "and there is a new look on hisface."

"So?Hehathspoken?"

"Nay, but there is a new look on his face, a new light in his eyes, and with theNew-Comer he sits by the fire, and they talk and talk, and the talk is withoutend."

Chugungatte whispered in his master's ear, and Keen leaned forward from hiships.

"There be something calling him from afar," she went on, "and he seems to sitandlisten,andtoanswer,singing,inhisownpeople'stongue."

Again Chugungatte whispered and Keen leaned forward, and Thom held herspeechtillherfathernoddedhisheadthatshemightproceed.

"It be known to thee, O Tantlatch, that the wild goose and the swan and thelittle ringed duck be born here in the low-lying lands. It be known that they goawaybeforethefaceofthefrosttounknownplaces.Anditbeknown,likewise, that always do they return when the sun is in the land and thewaterways are free. Always do they return to where they were born, that newlife may go forth. The land calls to them and they come. And now there isanother land that calls, and it is calling to my man,—the land where he wasborn,—and he hath it in mind to answer the call. Yet is he my man. Before allwomenishemyman."

"Is it well, Tantlatch? Is it well?" Chugungatte demanded, with the hint ofmenaceinhisvoice.

"Ay,itiswell!"Keencriedboldly."Thelandcallstoitschildren,andalllandscall their children home again. As the wild goose and the swan and the littleringedduckarecalled,soiscalledthisStrangerManwhohaslingeredwithusandwhonowmustgo.Alsotherebethecallofkind.Thegoosemateswiththegoose,nordoestheswanmatewiththelittleringedduck.Itisnotwellthatthe swan should mate with the little ringed duck. Nor is it well that strangermen should mate with the women of our villages. Wherefore I say the manshouldgo,tohisownkind,inhisownland."

"Heismyownman,"Thomanswered,"andheisagreatman."

"Ay,heisagreatman."Chugungatteliftedhisheadwithafaintrecrudescenceof youthful vigor. "He is a great man, and he put strength in thy arm, OTantlatch,andgavetheepower,andmadethynametobefearedintheland,tobe feared and to be respected. He is very wise, and there be much profit in hiswisdom. To him are we beholden for many things,—for the cunning in warand the secrets of the defence of a village and a rush in the forest, for thediscussion in council and the undoing of enemies by word of mouth and thehard-swornpromise,forthegatheringofgameandthemakingoftrapsandthepreservingoffood,forthecuringofsicknessandmendingofhurtsoftrailand

fight. Thou, Tantlatch, wert a lame old man this day, were it not that theStranger Man came into our midst and attended on thee. And ever, when indoubt on strange questions, have we gone to him, that out of his wisdom hemight make things clear, and ever has he made things clear. And there bequestions yet to arise, and needs upon his wisdom yet to come, and we cannotbeartolethimgo.Itisnotwellthatweshouldlethimgo."

Tantlatch continued to drum on the spear-haft, and gave no sign that he hadheard. Thom studied his face in vain, and Chugungatte seemed to shrinktogetheranddroopdownastheweightofyearsdescendeduponhimagain.