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"In the large skin-bale in my house, the one slung by the ridge-pole," came the answer. "But it was a joke, I say, only " Scundoo nodded his head, and the air went thick with flying stones. Sime's wife was crying silently, her head upon her knees; but his little boy, with shrieks and laughter, was flinging stones with the rest. Hooniah came waddling back with the precious blankets.
It was a most mysterious happening, the manner of their going. "I but stretched them up in the sun by the side-wall of the house," Hooniah disclaimed for the thousandth time to her Thlinget sisters.
Scundoo stopped her. "We be poor people and have little," she whimpered. "So be not hard upon us, O Scundoo." The people ceased from the quivering stone-pile they had builded, and looked on. "Nay, it was never my way, good Hooniah," Scundoo made answer, reaching for the blankets. "In token that I am not hard, these only shall I take." "Am I not wise, my children?" he demanded.
"Let the woman Hooniah be brought," Klok-No-Ton commanded, glaring ferociously about the circle and sending chills up and down the spines of those he looked upon. Hooniah waddled forward, head bent and gaze averted. "Where be thy blankets?" "I but stretched them up in the sun, and behold, they were not!" she whined. "So?" "It was because of Di Ya." "So?"
He had pulled the string of the wrong bag, he explained, a mistake. But the people refused to listen; the offerings of meat and fish and fur ceased to come to his door; and he sulked within so they thought, fasting in bitter penance; in reality, eating generously from his well-stored cache and meditating upon the fickleness of the mob. The blankets of Hooniah were missing.
The body was thrown into the sea after that, but the waves tossed it back again and again as a curse upon the village, nor did it finally go away till two strong men were staked out at low tide and drowned. And Hooniah had sent for this Klok-No-Ton. Better had it been if Scundoo, their own shaman, were undisgraced.
"Witchcraft!" And at the dread word their voices hushed and each looked fearfully at each. "Ay," Hooniah affirmed, the latent malignancy of her nature flashing into a moment's exultation. "And word has been sent to Klok-No-Ton, and strong paddles. Truly shall he be here with the afternoon tide." The little groups broke up, and fear descended upon the village.
"Then let all listen, for my words be few. With me have I brought Jelchs, the Raven, diviner of mystery and seer of things. Him, in his blackness, shall I place under the big black pot of Hooniah, in the blackest corner of her house. The slush-lamp shall cease to burn, and all remain in outer darkness. It is very simple.
"It is I who am thy slave, and my days shall be filled with desire to befriend thee." "As I " "As thou now befriendest me." "That being so, it is then a bad business, these blankets of the woman Hooniah?" The big shaman blundered tentatively in his quest, and Scundoo smiled a wan, gray smile, for he was used to reading men, and all men seemed very small to him.
Bawn was next chosen, for it well might be that a man should steal his own blankets with intent to cast shame upon his neighbors. Hooniah followed, and other women and children, but without result. "Sime!" Scundoo called out. "Sime!" he repeated. But Sime did not stir. "Art thou afraid of the dark?" La-lah, his own integrity being proved, demanded fiercely. Sime chuckled.
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