ng to
the last. He saw the flashing forms of gray, the gleaming eyes, the
lolling tongues, the slavered fangs. And he saw the inexorable circle
close in till it became a dark point in the midst of the stamped snow.

A cold muzzle thrust against his cheek, and at its touch his soul
leaped back to the present. His hand shot into the fire and dragged
out a burning faggot. Overcome for the nonce by his hereditary fear of
man, the brute retreated, raising a prolonged call to his brothers;
and greedily they answered, till a ring of crouching, jaw-slobbered
gray was stretched round about. The old man listened to the drawing
in of this circle. He waved his brand wildly, and sniffs turned to
snarls; but the panting brutes refused to scatter. Now one wormed his
chest forward, dragging his haunches after, now a second, now a third;
but never a one drew back. Why should he cling to life? he asked, and
dropped the blazing stick into the snow. It sizzled and went out. The
circle grunted uneasily, but held its own. Again he saw the last stand
of the old bull moose, and Koskoosh dropped his head wearily upon his
knees. What did it matter after all? Was it not the law of life?

NAM-BOK THE UNVERACIOUS

"A bidarka, is it not so? Look! a bidarka, and one man who drives
clumsily with a paddle!"

Old Bask-Wah-Wan rose to her knees, trembling with weakness and
eagerness, and gazed out over the sea.

"Nam-Bok was ever clumsy at the paddle," she maundered reminiscently,
shading the sun from her eyes and staring across the silver-spilled
water. "Nam-Bok was ever clumsy. I remember...."

But the women and children laughed loudly, and there was a gentle
mockery in their laughter, and her voice dwindled till her lips moved
without sound.

Koogah lifted his grizzled head from his bone-carving and followed
the path of her eyes. Except when wide yaws took it off its course, a
bidarka was heading in for the beach. Its occupant was paddling with
more strength than dexterity, and made his approach along the zigzag
line of most resistance. Koogah's head dropped to his work again, and
on the ivory tusk between his knees he scratched the dorsal fin of a
fish the like of which never swam in the sea.

"It is doubtless the man from the next village," he said finally,
"come to consult with me about the marking of things on bone. And the
man is a clumsy man. He will never know how."

"It is Nam-Bok," old Bask-Wah-Wan repeated. "Should I not k