"I, Ebbits, his father, will tell you. He takes Bidarshik to
Cambell Fort, and he ties a rope around his neck, so, and, when his
feet are no more on the ground, he dies."
"Ai! ai!" wailed Zilla. "And never does he cross the lake large as
the sky, nor see the land under the sun where there is no snow."
"Wherefore," old Ebbits said with grave dignity, "there be no one
to hunt meat for me in my old age, and I sit hungry by my fire and
tell my story to the White Man who has given me grub, and strong
tea, and tobacco for my pipe."
"Because of the lying and very miserable white people," Zilla
proclaimed shrilly.
"Nay," answered the old man with gentle positiveness. "Because of
the way of the white man, which is without understanding and never
twice the same."
THE STORY OF KEESH
KEESH lived long ago on the rim of the polar sea, was head man of
his village through many and prosperous years, and died full of
honors with his name on the lips of men. So long ago did he live
that only the old men remember his name, his name and the tale,
which they got from the old men before them, and which the old men
to come will tell to their children and their children's children
down to the end of time.
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