The Boy had gone a few paces towards her, and then turned.  “Yagorsha!” he called up the slope.  Yagorsha stood stock-still, although the Boy waved unmistakable danger-signals towards Joe’s ighloo.  Suddenly an arm flashed out of the tunnel, caught Anna by the ankle, and in a twinkling she lay sprawling on her back.  Two hands shot out, seized her by the heels, and dragged the wretched girl into the brute’s lair.  It was all over in a flash.  A moment’s paralysis of astonishment, and the involuntary rush forward was arrested by Muckluck, who fastened herself on to the rescuer’s parki-tail and refused to be detached.  “Yagorsha!” shouted the Boy.  But it was only the Colonel who hastened towards them at the summons.  The poor girl’s own father stood calmly smoking, up there, by the Kachime, one foot propped comfortably on the travellers’ loaded sled.  “Yagorsha!” he shouted again, and then, with a jerk to free himself from Muckluck, the Boy turned sharply towards the ighloo, seeming in a bewildered way to be, himself, about to transact this paternal business for the cowardly old loafer.  But Muckluck clung to his arm, laughing.

“Yagorsha know.  Joe give him nice mitts—­sealskin—­new mitts.”

“Hear that, Colonel?  For a pair of mitts he sells his daughter to that ruffian.”

Without definite plan, quite vaguely and instinctively, he shook himself free from Muckluck, and rushed down to the scene of the tragedy.  Muffled screams and yells issued with the smoke.  Muckluck turned sharply to the Colonel, who was following, and said something that sent him headlong after the Boy.  He seized the doughty champion by the feet just as he was disappearing in the tunnel, and hauled him out.

“What in thunder—­All right, you go first, then. Quick! as more screams rent the still air.

“Don’t be a fool.  You’ve been interruptin’ the weddin’ ceremonies.”

Muckluck had caught up with them, and Yagorsha was advancing leisurely across the snow.

“She no want you,” whispered Muckluck to the Boy.  “She like Joe—­like him best of all.”  Then, as the Boy gaped incredulously:  “She tell me heap long time ago she want Joe.”

“That’s just part of the weddin’ festivity,” says the Colonel, as renewed shrieks issued from under the snow.  “You’ve been an officious interferer, and I think the sooner I get you out o’ Pymeut the healthier it’ll be for you.”

The Boy was too flabbergasted to reply, but he was far from convinced.  The Colonel turned back to apologise to Yagorsha.

“No like this in your country?” inquired Muckluck of the crestfallen champion.

“N-no—­not exactly.”

“When you like girl—­what you do?”

“Tell her so,” muttered the Boy mechanically.

“Well—­Joe been tellin’ Anna—­all winter.”

“And she hated him.”

“No.  She like Joe—­best of any.”

“What did she go on like that for, then?”