ed, and, chucking a rotund little boy beside him
under the chin, said, "What think ye of that, my little ball of fat?" or
some Eskimo equivalent for that question. Our intelligent wizard had
not, however, ventured on these statements without some ground to go on.
The fact is, that, being a close observer and good judge of the
weather, he had perceived a change of some sort coming on. While on his
way to the hut of Okiok he had also observed that a few seals were
playing about on the margin of some ice-floes, and from other symptoms,
recognisable only by angekoks, he had come to the conclusion that it
would be safe as well as wise at that time to prophesy a period of
plenty.

"Now I would advise," he said, in concluding his discourse, "that we
should send off a hunting party to the south, for I can tell you that
seals will be found there--if the young men do not put off time on the
way."

This last proviso was a judicious back-door of escape. Slight delays,
he knew, were almost inevitable, so that, if the hunt should prove a
failure, he would have little difficulty in accounting for it, and
saving his credit. The most of his credulous and simple-minded hearers
did not reflect on the significance of the back-door remark, but Angut
did, and grinned a peculiar grin at the little fat boy, whom he chucked
a second time under the chin. Ujarak noted the grin, and did not like
it.

Among the people there who gave strongest expression to their joy at the
prospect of the good living in store for them, were several young and
middle-aged females who sat in a corner grouped together, and conveyed
their approval of what was said to each other by sundry smirks and
smiles and nods of the head, which went far to prove that they
constituted a little coterie or clique.

One of these was the wife of Simek, the best hunter of the tribe. Her
name was Pussimek. She was round and short, comely and young, and given
to giggling. She had a baby--a female baby--named after her, but more
briefly, Pussi, which resembled her in all respects except size. Beside
her sat the mother of Ippegoo. We know not her maiden name, but as her
dead husband had been called by the same name as the son, we will style
her Mrs Ippegoo. There was also the mother of Arbalik, a youth who was
celebrated as a wonderful killer of birds on the wing--a sort of Eskimo
Robin Hood--with the small spear or dart. The mother of Arbalik was
elderly, and stern--for an