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Updated: May 9, 2025
"What's he doing now?" the Boy ventured to whisper under cover of the devil's sudden loud remonstrance, the sick man at this point breaking into ghastly groans. "He puts on the Kamlayka. Sh!" The Shamán, still enveloped head and body, began to beat softly, keeping time with the eagle's feather.
But instead of getting up and looking his enemy in the face, he wriggled along on his belly, still under cover of the Kamlayka, till he got to the bear-skin, pushed it aside with a motion of the hooded head, and crawled out like some snaky symbol of darkness and superstition fleeing before the light. "Brother Paul!" sobbed the girl, "don't, don't tell Sister Winifred."
Nicholas got up, dazed but obedient, and lit the seal-oil lamp. The voice of the white man, the call for light, reached the Shamán. He seemed to shiver and shrink under the folds of the Kamlayka.
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