And there
was laughter, and much talk, at the event. It was an unprecedented
occurrence. Never did boys of his tender age go forth to hunt,
much less to hunt alone. Also were there shaking of heads and
prophetic mutterings, and the women looked pityingly at Ikeega, and
her face was grave and sad.
"He will be back ere long," they said cheeringly.
"Let him go; it will teach him a lesson," the hunters said. "And
he will come back shortly, and he will be meek and soft of speech
in the days to follow."
But a day passed, and a second, and on the third a wild gale blew,
and there was no Keesh. Ikeega tore her hair and put soot of the
seal-oil on her face in token of her grief; and the women assailed
the men with bitter words in that they had mistreated the boy and
sent him to his death; and the men made no answer, preparing to go
in search of the body when the storm abated.
Early next morning, however, Keesh strode into the village. But he
came not shamefacedly. Across his shoulders he bore a burden of
fresh-killed meat. And there was importance in his step and
arrogance in his speech.
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