keep his word. My
fear is that he will sneak off in the night. He is a sly fox."

"I will stop that," said Rooney.

"How?"

"You shall see. Come with me to the hut of Ujarak."

On reaching the hut, they found its owner, as had been expected,
sharpening his spears, and making other arrangements for a hunting
expedition.

"When do you start?" asked Rooney.

"Immediately," replied the wizard.

"Of course _after_ the duel," remarked Angut quietly.

The wizard seemed annoyed.

"It is unfortunate," he said, with a vexed look. "My torngak has told
me of a place where a great number of seals have come. They may leave
soon, and it would be such a pity to lose them."

"That is true," said Angut; "but of course you cannot break our customs.
It would ruin your character."

"Of course, of course I will not break the custom," returned Ujarak
quickly; "unless, indeed, my torngak _orders_ me to go. But that is not
likely."

"I want to ask you," said Rooney, sitting down, "about that trip you had
last year to the land of the departed. They tell me you had a hard time
of it, Ujarak, and barely escaped with your life."

The sly seaman had spread a net with which the wizard could at all times
be easily caught. He had turned him on to a tune at which he was always
willing to work with the persistency of an organ-grinder. The wizard
went on hour after hour with unwearied zeal in his narrations, being
incited thereto by a judicious question now and then from the seaman,
when he betrayed any symptom of flagging. At last Angut, who had often
heard it before, could stand it no longer, and rose to depart. Having
already picked up the Kablunet's mode of salutation, he held out his
hand, and said "Goo'-nite."

"Good-night, friend," returned Rooney, grasping the proffered hand. "I
can't leave till I've heard the end of this most interesting story, so
I'll just sleep in Ujarak's hut, if he will allow me, and thus avoid
disturbing you by coming in late. Good-night."

"Goo'-nite," responded Angut, and vanished from the scene.

The wizard heaved a sigh. He perceived that his little plan of gliding
away in the hours of darkness was knocked on the head, so, like a true
philosopher, he resigned himself to the inevitable, and consoled himself
by plunging into intricacies of fabulous adventure with a fertility of
imagination which surprised even himself--so powerful is the influence
of a sympathetic listener.

When Ujara