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If all the canoes I have ever seen were made into one canoe, it would not be so large." There were exclamations of doubt, and Koogah, whose years were many, shook his head.
Koogah asked, tripping craftily over the strange word. "The wind," was the impatient response. "Then the wind made the sch sch schooner go against the wind." Old Koogah dropped an open leer to Opee-Kwan, and, the laughter growing around him, continued: "The wind blows from the south and blows the schooner south. The wind blows against the wind.
"But tell me, Nam-Bok," Koogah interrupted, for fear the tale would go no farther, "tell me the manner of these men in finding their way across the sea when there is no land by which to steer." "The sun points out the path." "But how?"
Opee-Kwan gripped him by the arm and kindly but firmly shook his senses back into him. "Come, Nam-Bok, arise!" he commanded. "It be time." "Another feast!" Nam-Bok cried. "Nay, I am not hungry. Go on with the eating and let me sleep." "Time to be gone!" Koogah thundered. But Opee-Kwan spoke more softly. "Thou wast bidarka-mate with me when we were boys," he said.
"Then it came by on the bars, and harmed me not; and when my legs could hold me up again it was gone from sight. And it is a very common thing in that country. Even the women and children are not afraid. Men make them to do work, these monsters." "As we make our dogs do work?" Koogah asked, with sceptic twinkle in his eye. "Ay, as we make our dogs do work."
And thereupon Nam-Bok held his stomach with a shaky hand and declined the proffered return. Koogah could keep the pipe, he said, for he had intended so to honor him from the first. And the people licked their fingers and approved of his liberality. Opee-Kwan rose to his feet "And now, O Nam-Bok, the feast is ended, and we would listen concerning the strange things you have seen."
Wherefore we send thee away, that our heads may remain clear and strong and be not troubled by the unaccountable things." "These things thou speakest of be shadows," Koogah took up the strain. "From the shadow-world thou hast brought them, and to the shadow-world thou must return them. Thy bidarka be ready, and the tribespeople wait. They may not sleep until thou art gone."
Bone-scratching and skin-scraping were resumed, but he shut his lips tightly on the tongue that could not be believed. "This sch sch schooner," Koogah imperturbably asked; "it was made of a big tree?" "It was made of many trees," Nam-Bok snapped shortly. "It was very big."
"Then it came by on the bars, and harmed me not; and when my legs could hold me up again it was gone from sight. And it is a very common thing in that country. Even the women and children are not afraid. Men make them to do work, these monsters." "As we make our dogs do work?" Koogah asked, with sceptic twinkle in his eye. "Ay, as we make our dogs do work."
And the roar of that village was like the roar of the sea in storm, and the people were so many that I flung away my stick and no longer remembered the notches upon it." "Hadst thou made small notches," Koogah reproved, "thou mightst have brought report." Nam-Bok whirled upon him in anger. "Had I made small notches! Listen, Koogah, thou scratcher of bone!
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