nd
hard; six Hudson Bay knives, keen-edged and long; two canoes, the work
of Mogum, The Maker of Things; ten dogs, heavy-shouldered and strong
in the harness; and three guns--the trigger of one be broken, but it
is a good gun and can doubtless be mended."

Keesh paused and swept his eyes over the circle of intent faces. It
was the time of the Great Fishing, and he was bidding to Gnob for
Su-Su his daughter. The place was the St. George Mission by the Yukon,
and the tribes had gathered for many a hundred miles. From north,
south, east, and west they had come, even from Tozikakat and far
Tana-naw.

"And further, O Gnob, thou art chief of the Tana-naw; and I, Keesh,
the son of Keesh, am chief of the Thlunget. Wherefore, when my seed
springs from the loins of thy daughter, there shall be a friendship
between the tribes, a great friendship, and Tana-naw and Thlunget
shall be brothers of the blood in the time to come. What I have said
I will do, that will I do. And how is it with you, O Gnob, in this
matter?"

Gnob nodded his head gravely, his gnarled and age-twisted face
inscrutably masking the soul that dwelt behind. His narrow eyes
burned like twin coals through their narrow slits, as he piped in a
high-cracked voice, "But that is not all."

"What more?" Keesh demanded. "Have I not offered full measure? Was
there ever yet a Tana-naw maiden who fetched so great a price? Then
name her!"

An open snicker passed round the circle, and Keesh knew that he stood
in shame before these people.

"Nay, nay, good Keesh, thou dost not understand." Gnob made a soft,
stroking gesture. "The price is fair. It is a good price. Nor do I
question the broken trigger. But that is not all. What of the man?"

"Ay, what of the man?" the circle snarled.

"It is said," Gnob's shrill voice piped, "it is said that Keesh does
not walk in the way of his fathers. It is said that he has wandered
into the dark, after strange gods, and that he is become afraid."

The face of Keesh went dark. "It is a lie!" he thundered. "Keesh is
afraid of no man!"

"It is said," old Gnob piped on, "that he has harkened to the speech
of the white man up at the Big House, and that he bends head to the
white man's god, and, moreover, that blood is displeasing to the white
man's god."

Keesh dropped his eyes, and his hands clenched passionately. The
savage circle laughed derisively, and in the ear of Gnob whispered
Madwan, the shaman, high-priest of the tribe an