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Updated: June 28, 2025
Muckluck was standing still, looking at the Boy with none of the kindness a woman ought to show to one who had just befriended her sex. "Did you see that?" She nodded. "See that any day." The Boy stopped, appalled at the thought of woman in a perpetual state of siege. "Brute! hound!" he flung out towards Joe's ighloo. "No," says Muckluck firmly; "Joe all right."
But he was far from satisfied with his conduct all the same. It was quite possible that the Pymeuts, discovering her absence, would think he had lured her away, and there might be complications. So it was with small fervour that he said: "Muckluck, I wish you'd come back and wait till morning." "No, I go now."
As the Boy, with an exclamation of "Well, I give it up," walked slowly across the slope after the Colonel and Yagorsha, Muckluck lingered at his side. "In your country when girl marry she no scream?" "Well, no; not usually, I believe." "She go quiet? Like like she want " Muckluck stood still with astonishment and outraged modesty. "They agree," he answered irritably.
No doubt Muckluck is on the river-bank at Pymeut; the one-eyed Prince, the story-teller Yagorsha, even Ol' Chief no one will be indoors to-day. Sitting there together, they saw the last stand made by the ice, and shared that moment when the final barrier, somewhere far below, gave way with boom and thunder.
Only Muckluck in her chilly "Holy Cross clo'es" stood sorrowful and silent, swinging her medal slowly back and forth. Nicholas warned them that the Pymeut air-hole was not the only one. "No," Yagorsha called down the slope; "better no play tricks with him." He nodded towards the river as the travellers looked back. "Him no like. Him got heap plenty mouths chew you up."
The Boy was for shielding Muckluck from the crazy flinging out of legs and arms; but she leaned over, breathless, to catch what words might escape the Shamán during the fit, for these were omens of deep significance.
The Boy, feeling he would need an interpreter, signed to Muckluck to come and sit by him. Grave as a judge she got up, and did as she was bid. "That the Shamán?" whispered the Boy. She nodded. It was plain that this apparition, however hideous, had given her great satisfaction. "Any more people coming?" "Got no more now in Pymeut." "Where is everybody?" "Some sick, some dead."
The sick man began to talk deliriously, and lifted up a terrible old face with fever-bright eyes glaring through wisps of straight gray hair. No voice but his was heard for some time in the ighloo, then, "I fraid," said Muckluck, crouching near the fire, but with head turned over shoulder, staring at the sick man. "No wonder," said the Boy, thinking such an apparition enough to frighten anybody.
The old Chief rambled on, but not so noisily. "See," whispered Muckluck, "devil 'fraid already. He begin to speak small." The Shamán never once looked towards the sufferer till he himself was thoroughly warm. Even then he withdrew from the genial glow, only to sit back, humped together, blinking, silent.
Muckluck only laughed, but the Indian hung about waiting the Princess's pleasure. "When your pardner come back?" she would indiscreetly ask the Colonel. "Why he goes to Dawson?" And every few hours she would return: "Why he stay so long?" At last Maudie took her outside and told her.
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