"Eat; thou art hungry," Opee-Kwan commanded, and Nam-Bok shut both his
eyes and shoved his fist into the big pot of putrid fish.

"La la, be not ashamed. The seal were many this year, and strong men
are ever hungry." And Bask-Wah-Wan sopped a particularly offensive
chunk of salmon into the oil and passed it fondly and dripping to her
son.

In despair, when premonitory symptoms warned him that his stomach was
not so strong as of old, he filled his pipe and struck up a smoke. The
people fed on noisily and watched. Few of them could boast of intimate
acquaintance with the precious weed, though now and again small
quantities and abominable qualities were obtained in trade from the
Eskimos to the northward. Koogah, sitting next to him, indicated that
he was not averse to taking a draw, and between two mouthfuls,
with the oil thick on his lips, sucked away at the amber stem. 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."

The fisherfolk applauded with their hands, and gathering about them
their work, prepared to listen. The men were busy fashioning spears
and carving on ivory, while the women scraped the fat from the hides
of the hair seal and made them pliable or sewed muclucs with threads
of sinew. Nam-Bok's eyes roved over the scene, but there was not the