hands.  The woman Ipsukuk, who dwelleth in the far end of the village next she igloo of the chief, possesseth much flour and sugar, and even have my eyes told me of molasses smeared on her face.  And in the igloo of Tummasook, the chief, there be tea—­have I not seen the old pig guzzling?  And the shaman owneth a caddy of “Star” and two buckets of prime smoking.  And what have we?  Nothing!  Nothing!’

“But I was stunned by the word he brought of the tobacco, and made no answer.

“And Moosu, what of his own desire, broke silence:  ’And there be Tukeliketa, daughter of a big hunter and wealthy man.  A likely girl.  Indeed, a very nice girl.’

“I figured hard during the night while Moosu snored, for I could not bear the thought of the tobacco so near which I could not smoke.  True, as he had said, we had nothing.  But the way became clear to me, and in the morning I said to him:  ’Go thou cunningly abroad, after thy fashion, and procure me some sort of bone, crooked like a gooseneck, and hollow.  Also, walk humbly, but have eyes awake to the lay of pots and pans and cooking contrivances.  And remember, mine is the white man’s wisdom, and do what I have bid you, with sureness and despatch.’

“While he was away I placed the whale-oil cooking lamp in the middle of the igloo, and moved the mangy sleeping furs back that I might have room.  Then I took apart his gun and put the barrel by handy, and afterwards braided many wicks from the cotton that the women gather wild in the summer.  When he came back, it was with the bone I had commanded, and with news that in the igloo of Tummasook there was a five-gallon kerosene can and a big copper kettle.  So I said he had done well and we would tarry through the day.  And when midnight was near I made harangue to him.

“’This chief, this Tummasook, hath a copper kettle, likewise a kerosene can.’  I put a rock, smooth and wave-washed, in Moosu’s hand.  ’The camp is hushed and the stars are winking.  Go thou, creep into the chief’s igloo softly, and smite him thus upon the belly, and hard.  And let the meat and good grub of the days to come put strength into thine arm.  There will be uproar and outcry, and the village will come hot afoot.  But be thou unafraid.  Veil thy movements and lose thy form in the obscurity of the night and the confusion of men.  And when the woman Ipsukuk is anigh thee,—­she who smeareth her face with molasses,—­do thou smite her likewise, and whosoever else that possesseth flour and cometh to thy hand.  Then do thou lift thy voice in pain and double up with clasped hands, and make outcry in token that thou, too, hast felt the visitation of the night.  And in this way shall we achieve honour and great possessions, and the caddy of “Star” and the prime smoking, and thy Tukeliketa, who is a likely maiden.’