The Wit of Porportuk
El-Soo had been a Mission girl. Her mother had died when she wasvery small, and Sister Alberta had plucked El-Soo as a brand from theburning, one summer day, and carried her away to Holy Cross Missionand dedicated her to God. El-Soo was a full-blooded Indian, yet sheexceeded all the half-breed and quarter-breed girls. Never had thegood sisters dealt with a girl so adaptable and at the same time sospirited.El-Soo was quick, and deft, and intelligent; but above all she wasfire, the living flame of life, a blaze of personality that wascompounded of will, sweetness, and daring. Her father was a chief,and his blood ran in her veins. Obedience, on the part of El-Soo,was a matter of terms and arrangement. She had a passion for equity,and perhaps it was because of this that she excelled in mathematics.But she excelled in other things. She learned to read and writeEnglish as no girl had ever learned in the Mission. She led thegirls in singing, and into song she carried her sense of equity. Shewas an artist, and the fire of her flowed toward creation. Had shefrom birth enjoyed a more favourable environment, she would have madeliterature or music.Instead, she was El-Soo, daughter of Klakee-Nah, a chief, and shelived in the Holy Cross Mission where were no artists, but only pure-souled Sisters who were interested in cleanliness and righteousnessand the welfare of the spirit in the land of immortality that laybeyond the skies.The years passed. She was eight years old when she entered theMission; she was sixteen, and the Sisters were corresponding withtheir superiors in the Order concerning the sending of El-Soo to theUnited States to complete her education, when a man of her own tribearrived at Holy Cross and had talk with her. El-Soo was somewhatappalled by him. He was dirty. He was a Caliban-like creature,primitively ugly, with a mop of hair that had never been combed. Helooked at her disapprovingly and refused to sit down."Thy brother is dead," he said shortly.El-Soo was not particularly shocked. She remembered little of herbrother. "Thy father is an old man, and alone," the messenger wenton. "His house is large and empty, and he would hear thy voice andlook upon thee."Him she remembered--Klakee-Nah, the headman of the village, thefriend of the missionaries and the traders, a large man thewed like agiant, with kindly eyes and masterful ways, and striding with aconsciousness of crude royalty in his carriage."Tell him that I will come," was El-Soo's answer.Much to the despair of the Sisters, the brand plucked from theburning went back to the burning. All pleading with El-Soo was vain.There was much argument, expostulation, and weeping. Sister Albertaeven revealed to her the project of sending her to the United States.El-Soo stared wide-eyed into the golden vista thus opened up to her,and shook her head. In her eyes persisted another vista. It was themighty curve of the Yukon at Tana-naw Station. With the St. GeorgeMission on one side, and the trading post on the other, and midwaybetween the Indian village and a certain large log house where livedan old man tended upon by slaves.All dwellers on the Yukon bank for twice a thousand miles knew thelarge log house, the old man and the tending slaves; and well did theSisters know the house, its unending revelry, its feasting and itsfun. So there was weeping at Holy Cross when El-Soo departed.There was a great cleaning up in the large house when El-Soo arrived.Klakee-Nah, himself masterful, protested at this masterful conduct ofhis young daughter; but in the end, dreaming barbarically ofmagnificence, he went forth and borrowed a thousand dollars from oldPorportuk, than whom there was no richer Indian on the Yukon. Also,Klakee-Nah ran up a heavy bill at the trading post. El-Soo re-created the large house. She invested it with new splendour, whileKlakee-Nah maintained its ancient traditions of hospitality andrevelry.All this was unusual for a Yukon Indian, but Klakee-Nah was anunusual Indian. Not alone did he like to render inordinatehospitality, but, what of being a chief and of acquiring much money,he was able to do it. In the primitive trading days he had been apower over his people, and he had dealt profitably with the whitetrading companies. Later on, with Porportuk, he had made a gold-strike on the Koyokuk River. Klakee-Nah was by training and naturean aristocrat. Porportuk was bourgeois, and Porportuk bought him outof the gold-mine. Porportuk was content to plod and accumulate.Klakee-Nah went back to his large house and proceeded to spend.Porportuk was known as the richest Indian in Alaska. Klakee-Nah wasknown as the whitest. Porportuk was a money-lender and a usurer.Klakee-Nah was an anachronism--a mediaeval ruin, a fighter and afeaster, happy with wine and song.El-Soo adapted herself to the large house and its ways as readily asshe had adapted herself to Holy Cross Mission and its ways. She didnot try to reform her father and direct his footsteps toward God. Itis true, she reproved him when he drank overmuch and profoundly, butthat was for the sake of his health and the direction of hisfootsteps on solid earth.The latchstring to the large house was always out. What with thecoming and the going, it was never still. The rafters of the greatliving-room shook with the roar of wassail and of song. At table satmen from all the world and chiefs from distant tribes--Englishmen andColonials, lean Yankee traders and rotund officials of the greatcompanies, cowboys from the Western ranges, sailors from the sea,hunters and dog-mushers of a score of nationalities.El-Soo drew breath in a cosmopolitan atmosphere. She could speakEnglish as well as she could her native tongue, and she sang Englishsongs and ballads. The passing Indian ceremonials she knew, and theperishing traditions. The tribal dress of the daughter of a chiefshe knew how to wear upon occasion. But for the most part shedressed as white women dress. Not for nothing was her needlework atthe Mission and her innate artistry. She carried her clothes like awhite woman, and she made clothes that could be so carried.In her way she was as unusual as her father, and the position sheoccupied was as unique as his. She was the one Indian woman who wasthe social equal with the several white women at Tana-naw Station.She was the one Indian woman to whom white men honourably madeproposals of marriage. And she was the one Indian woman whom nowhite man ever insulted.For El-Soo was beautiful--not as white women are beautiful, not asIndian women are beautiful. It was the flame of her, that did notdepend upon feature, that was her beauty. So far as mere line andfeature went, she was the classic Indian type. The black hair andthe fine bronze were hers, and the black eyes, brilliant and bold,keen as sword-light, proud; and hers the delicate eagle nose with thethin, quivering nostrils, the high cheek-bones that were not broadapart, and the thin lips that were not too thin. But over all andthrough all poured the flame of her--the unanalysable something thatwas fire and that was the soul of her, that lay mellow-warm or blazedin her eyes, that sprayed the cheeks of her, that distended thenostrils, that curled the lips, or, when the lip was in repose, thatwas still there in the lip, the lip palpitant with its presence.And El-Soo had wit--rarely sharp to hurt, yet quick to search outforgivable weakness. The laughter of her mind played like lambentflame over all about her, and from all about her arose answeringlaughter. Yet she was never the centre of things. This she wouldnot permit. The large house, and all of which it was significant,was her father's; and through it, to the last, moved his heroicfigure--host, master of the revels, and giver of the law. It istrue, as the strength oozed from him, that she caught upresponsibilities from his failing hands. But in appearance he stillruled, dozing, ofttimes at the board, a bacchanalian ruin, yet in allseeming the ruler of the feast.And through the large house moved the figure of Porportuk, ominous,with shaking head, coldly disapproving, paying for it all. Not thathe really paid, for he compounded interest in weird ways, and year byyear absorbed the properties of Klakee-Nah. Porportuk once took itupon himself to chide El-Soo upon the wasteful way of life in thelarge house--it was when he had about absorbed the last of Klakee-Nah's wealth--but he never ventured so to chide again. El-Soo, likeher father, was an aristocrat, as disdainful of money as he, and withan equal sense of honour as finely strung.Porportuk continued grudgingly to advance money, and ever the moneyflowed in golden foam away. Upon one thing El-Soo was resolved--herfather should die as he had lived. There should be for him nopassing from high to low, no diminution of the revels, no lesseningof the lavish hospitality. When there was famine, as of old, theIndians came groaning to the large house and went away content. Whenthere was famine and no money, money was borrowed from Porportuk, andthe Indians still went away content. El-Soo might well haverepeated, after the aristocrats of another time and place, that afterher came the deluge. In her case the deluge was old Porportuk. Withevery advance of money, he looked upon her with a more possessiveeye, and felt bourgeoning within him ancient fires.But El-Soo had no eyes for him. Nor had she eyes for the white menwho wanted to marry her at the Mission with ring and priest and book.For at Tana-naw Station was a young man, Akoon, of her own blood, andtribe, and village. He was strong and beautiful to her eyes, a greathunter, and, in that he had wandered far and much, very poor; he hadbeen to all the unknown wastes and places; he had journeyed to Sitkaand to the United States; he had crossed the continent to Hudson Bayand back again, and as seal-hunter on a ship he had sailed to Siberiaand for Japan.When he returned from the gold-strike in Klondike he came, as was hiswont, to the large house to make report to old Klakee-Nah of all theworld that he had seen; and there he first saw El-Soo, three yearsback from the Mission. Thereat, Akoon wandered no more. He refuseda wage of twenty dollars a day as pilot on the big steamboats. Hehunted some and fished some, but never far from Tana-naw Station, andhe was at the large house often and long. And El-Soo measured himagainst many men and found him good. He sang songs to her, and wasardent and glowed until all Tana-naw Station knew he loved her. AndPorportuk but grinned and advanced more money for the upkeep of thelarge house.Then came the death table of Klakee-Nah.He sat at feast, with death in his throat, that he could not drownwith wine. And laughter and joke and song went around, and Akoontold a story that made the rafters echo. There were no tears orsighs at that table. It was no more than fit that Klakee-Nah shoulddie as he had lived, and none knew this better than El-Soo, with herartist sympathy. The old roystering crowd was there, and, as of old,three frost-bitten sailors were there, fresh from the long traversefrom the Arctic, survivors of a ship's company of seventy-four. AtKlakee-Nah's back were four old men, all that were left him of theslaves of his youth. With rheumy eyes they saw to his needs, withpalsied hands filling his glass or striking him on the back betweenthe shoulders when death stirred and he coughed and gasped.It was a wild night, and as the hours passed and the fun laughed androared along, death stirred more restlessly in Klakee-Nah's throat.Then it was that he sent for Porportuk. And Porportuk came in fromthe outside frost to look with disapproving eyes upon the meat andwine on the table for which he had paid. But as he looked down thelength of flushed faces to the far end and saw the face of El-Soo,the light in his eyes flared up, and for a moment the disapprovalvanished.Place was made for him at Klakee-Nah's side, and a glass placedbefore him. Klakee-Nah, with his own hands, filled the glass withfervent spirits. "Drink!" he cried. "Is it not good?"And Porportuk's eyes watered as he nodded his head and smacked hislips."When, in your own house, have you had such drink?" Klakee-Nahdemanded."I will not deny that the drink is good to this old throat of mine,"Porportuk made answer, and hesitated for the speech to complete thethought."But it costs overmuch," Klakee-Nah roared, completing it for him.Porportuk winced at the laughter that went down the table. His eyesburned malevolently. "We were boys together, of the same age," hesaid. "In your throat is death. I am still alive and strong."An ominous murmur arose from the company. Klakee-Nah coughed andstrangled, and the old slaves smote him between the shoulders. Heemerged gasping, and waved his hand to still the threatening rumble."You have grudged the very fire in your house because the wood costovermuch!" he cried. "You have grudged life. To live cost overmuch,and you have refused to pay the price. Your life has been like acabin where the fire is out and there are no blankets on the floor."He signalled to a slave to fill his glass, which he held aloft. "ButI have lived. And I have been warm with life as you have never beenwarm. It is true, you shall live long. But the longest nights arethe cold nights when a man shivers and lies awake. My nights havebeen short, but I have slept warm."He drained the glass. The shaking hand of a slave failed to catch itas it crashed to the floor. Klakee-Nah sank back, panting, watchingthe upturned glasses at the lips of the drinkers, his own lipsslightly smiling to the applause. At a sign, two slaves attempted tohelp him sit upright again. But they were weak, his frame wasmighty, and the four old men tottered and shook as they helped himforward."But manner of life is neither here nor there," he went on. "We haveother business, Porportuk, you and I, to-night. Debts aremischances, and I am in mischance with you. What of my debt, and howgreat is it?"Porportuk searched in his pouch and brought forth a memorandum. Hesipped at his glass and began. "There is the note of August, 1889,for three hundred dollars. The interest has never been paid. Andthe note of the next year for five hundred dollars. This note wasincluded in the note of two months later for a thousand dollars.Then there is the note--""Never mind the many notes!" Klakee-Nah cried out impatiently. "Theymake my head go around and all the things inside my head. The whole!The round whole! How much is it?"Porportuk referred to his memorandum. "Fifteen thousand nine hundredand sixty-seven dollars and seventy-five cents," he read with carefulprecision."Make it sixteen thousand, make it sixteen thousand," Klakee-Nah saidgrandly. "Odd numbers were ever a worry. And now--and it is forthis that I have sent for you--make me out a new note for sixteenthousand, which I shall sign. I have no thought of the interest.Make it as large as you will, and make it payable in the next world,when I shall meet you by the fire of the Great Father of all Indians.Then the note will be paid. This I promise you. It is the word ofKlakee-Nah."Porportuk looked perplexed, and loudly the laughter arose and shookthe room. Klakee-Nah raised his hands. "Nay," he cried. "It is nota joke. I but speak in fairness. It was for this I sent for you,Porportuk. Make out the note.""I have no dealings with the next world," Porportuk made answerslowly."Have you no thought to meet me before the Great Father!" Klakee-Nahdemanded. Then he added, "I shall surely be there.""I have no dealings with the next world," Porportuk repeated sourly.The dying man regarded him with frank amazement."I know naught of the next world," Porportuk explained. "I dobusiness in this world."Klakee-Nah's face cleared. "This comes of sleeping cold of nights,"he laughed. He pondered for a space, then said, "It is in this worldthat you must be paid. There remains to me this house. Take it, andburn the debt in the candle there.""It is an old house and not worth the money," Porportuk made answer."There are my mines on the Twisted Salmon.""They have never paid to work," was the reply."There is my share in the steamer Koyokuk. I am half owner.""She is at the bottom of the Yukon."Klakee-Nah started. "True, I forgot. It was last spring when theice went out." He mused for a time while the glasses remaineduntasted, and all the company waited upon his utterance."Then it would seem I owe you a sum of money which I cannot pay . . .in this world?" Porportuk nodded and glanced down the table."Then it would seem that you, Porportuk, are a poor business man,"Klakee-Nah said slyly. And boldly Porportuk made answer, "No; thereis security yet untouched.""What!" cried Klakee-Nah. "Have I still property? Name it, and itis yours, and the debt is no more.""There it is." Porportuk pointed at El-Soo.Klakee-Nah could not understand. He peered down the table, brushedhis eyes, and peered again."Your daughter, El-Soo--her will I take and the debt be no more. Iwill burn the debt there in the candle."Klakee-Nah's great chest began to heave. "Ho! ho!--a joke. Ho! ho!ho!" he laughed Homerically. "And with your cold bed and daughtersold enough to be the mother of El-Soo! Ho! ho! ho!" He began tocough and strangle, and the old slaves smote him on the back. "Ho!ho!" he began again, and went off into another paroxysm.Porportuk waited patiently, sipping from his glass and studying thedouble row of faces down the board. "It is no joke," he saidfinally. "My speech is well meant."Klakee-Nah sobered and looked at him, then reached for his glass, butcould not touch it. A slave passed it to him, and glass and liquorhe flung into the face of Porportuk."Turn him out!" Klakee-Nah thundered to the waiting table thatstrained like a pack of hounds in leash. "And roll him in the snow!"As the mad riot swept past him and out of doors, he signalled to theslaves, and the four tottering old men supported him on his feet ashe met the returning revellers, upright, glass in hand, pledging thema toast to the short night when a man sleeps warm.It did not take long to settle the estate of Klakee-Nah. Tommy, thelittle Englishman, clerk at the trading post, was called in by El-Sooto help. There was nothing but debts, notes overdue, mortgagedproperties, and properties mortgaged but worthless. Notes andmortgages were held by Porportuk. Tommy called him a robber manytimes as he pondered the compounding of the interest."Is it a debt, Tommy?" El-Soo asked."It is a robbery," Tommy answered."Nevertheless, it is a debt," she persisted.The winter wore away, and the early spring, and still the claims ofPorportuk remained unpaid. He saw El-Soo often and explained to herat length, as he had explained to her father, the way the debt couldbe cancelled. Also, he brought with him old medicine-men, whoelaborated to her the everlasting damnation of her father if the debtwere not paid. One day, after such an elaboration, El-Soo made finalannouncement to Porportuk."I shall tell you two things," she said. "First I shall not be yourwife. Will you remember that? Second, you shall be paid the lastcent of the sixteen thousand dollars--""Fifteen thousand nine hundred and sixty-seven dollars and seventy-five cents," Porportuk corrected."My father said sixteen thousand," was her reply. "You shall bepaid.""How?""I know not how, but I shall find out how. Now go, and bother me nomore. If you do"--she hesitated to find fitting penalty--"if you do,I shall have you rolled in the snow again as soon as the first snowflies."This was still in the early spring, and a little later El-Soosurprised the country. Word went up and down the Yukon from Chilcootto the Delta, and was carried from camp to camp to the farthermostcamps, that in June, when the first salmon ran, El-Soo, daughter ofKlakee-Nah, would sell herself at public auction to satisfy theclaims of Porportuk. Vain were the attempts to dissuade her. Themissionary at St. George wrestled with her, but she replied--Only thedebts to God are settled in the next world. The debts of men are ofthis world, and in this world are they settled."Akoon wrestled with her, but she replied, "I do love thee, Akoon; buthonour is greater than love, and who am I that I should blacken myfather?" Sister Alberta journeyed all the way up from Holy Cross onthe first steamer, and to no better end."My father wanders in the thick and endless forests," said El-Soo."And there will he wander, with the lost souls crying, till the debtbe paid. Then, and not until then, may he go on to the house of theGreat Father.""And you believe this?" Sister Alberta asked."I do not know," El-Soo made answer. "It was my father's belief."Sister Alberta shrugged her shoulders incredulously."Who knows but that the things we believe come true?" El-Soo went on."Why not? The next world to you may be heaven and harps . . .because you have believed heaven and harps; to my father the nextworld may be a large house where he will sit always at table feastingwith God.""And you?" Sister Alberta asked. "What is your next world?"El-Soo hesitated but for a moment. "I should like a little of both,"she said. "I should like to see your face as well as the face of myfather."The day of the auction came. Tana-naw Station was populous. As wastheir custom, the tribes had gathered to await the salmon-run, and inthe meantime spent the time in dancing and frolicking, trading andgossiping. Then there was the ordinary sprinkling of whiteadventurers, traders, and prospectors, and, in addition, a largenumber of white men who had come because of curiosity or interest inthe affair.It had been a backward spring, and the salmon were late in running.This delay but keyed up the interest. Then, on the day of theauction, the situation was made tense by Akoon. He arose and madepublic and solemn announcement that whosoever bought El-Soo wouldforthwith and immediately die. He flourished the Winchester in hishand to indicate the manner of the taking-off. El-Soo was angeredthereat; but he refused to speak with her, and went to the tradingpost to lay in extra ammunition.The first salmon was caught at ten o'clock in the evening, and atmidnight the auction began. It took place on top of the high bankalongside the Yukon. The sun was due north just below the horizon,and the sky was lurid red. A great crowd gathered about the tableand the two chairs that stood near the edge of the bank. To the forewere many white men and several chiefs. And most prominently to thefore, rifle in hand, stood Akoon. Tommy, at El-Soo's request, servedas auctioneer, but she made the opening speech and described thegoods about to be sold. She was in native costume, in the dress of achief's daughter, splendid and barbaric, and she stood on a chair,that she might be seen to advantage."Who will buy a wife?" she asked. "Look at me. I am twenty yearsold and a maid. I will be a good wife to the man who buys me. If heis a white man, I shall dress in the fashion of white women; if he isan Indian, I shall dress as"--she hesitated a moment--"a squaw. Ican make my own clothes, and sew, and wash, and mend. I was taughtfor eight years to do these things at Holy Cross Mission. I can readand write English, and I know how to play the organ. Also I can doarithmetic and some algebra--a little. I shall be sold to thehighest bidder, and to him I will make out a bill of sale of myself.I forgot to say that I can sing very well, and that I have never beensick in my life. I weigh one hundred and thirty-two pounds; myfather is dead and I have no relatives. Who wants me?"She looked over the crowd with flaming audacity and stepped down. AtTommy's request she stood upon the chair again, while he mounted thesecond chair and started the bidding.Surrounding El-Soo stood the four old slaves of her father. Theywere age-twisted and palsied, faithful to their meat, a generationout of the past that watched unmoved the antics of younger life. Inthe front of the crowd were several Eldorado and Bonanza kings fromthe Upper Yukon, and beside them, on crutches, swollen with scurvy,were two broken prospectors. From the midst of the crowd, thrust outby its own vividness, appeared the face of a wild-eyed squaw from theremote regions of the Upper Tana-naw; a strayed Sitkan from the coaststood side by side with a Stick from Lake Le Barge, and, beyond, ahalf-dozen French-Canadian voyageurs, grouped by themselves. Fromafar came the faint cries of myriads of wild-fowl on the nesting-grounds. Swallows were skimming up overhead from the placid surfaceof the Yukon, and robins were singing. The oblique rays of thehidden sun shot through the smoke, high-dissipated from forest firesa thousand miles away, and turned the heavens to sombre red, whilethe earth shone red in the reflected glow. This red glow shone inthe faces of all, and made everything seem unearthly and unreal.The bidding began slowly. The Sitkan, who was a stranger in the landand who had arrived only half an hour before, offered one hundreddollars in a confident voice, and was surprised when Akoon turnedthreateningly upon him with the rifle. The bidding dragged. AnIndian from the Tozikakat, a pilot, bid one hundred and fifty, andafter some time a gambler, who had been ordered out of the UpperCountry, raised the bid to two hundred. El-Soo was saddened; herpride was hurt; but the only effect was that she flamed moreaudaciously upon the crowd.There was a disturbance among the onlookers as Porportuk forced hisway to the front. "Five hundred dollars!" he bid in a loud voice,then looked about him proudly to note the effect.He was minded to use his great wealth as a bludgeon with which tostun all competition at the start. But one of the voyageurs, lookingon El-Soo with sparkling eyes, raised the bid a hundred."Seven hundred!" Porportuk returned promptly.And with equal promptness came the "Eight hundred" of the voyageur.Then Porportuk swung his club again."Twelve hundred!" he shouted.With a look of poignant disappointment, the voyageur succumbed.There was no further bidding. Tommy worked hard, but could notelicit a bid.El-Soo spoke to Porportuk. "It were good, Porportuk, for you toweigh well your bid. Have you forgotten the thing I told you--that Iwould never marry you!""It is a public auction," he retorted. "I shall buy you with a billof sale. I have offered twelve hundred dollars. You come cheap.""Too damned cheap!" Tommy cried. "What if I am auctioneer? Thatdoes not prevent me from bidding. I'll make it thirteen hundred.""Fourteen hundred," from Porportuk."I'll buy you in to be my--my sister," Tommy whispered to El-Soo,then called aloud, "Fifteen hundred!"At two thousand one of the Eldorado kings took a hand, and Tommydropped out.A third time Porportuk swung the club of his wealth, making a cleanraise of five hundred dollars. But the Eldorado king's pride wastouched. No man could club him. And he swung back another fivehundred.El-Soo stood at three thousand. Porportuk made it thirty-fivehundred, and gasped when the Eldorado king raised it a thousanddollars. Porportuk again raised it five hundred, and again gaspedwhen the king raised a thousand more.Porportuk became angry. His pride was touched; his strength waschallenged, and with him strength took the form of wealth. He wouldnot be ashamed for weakness before the world. El-Soo becameincidental. The savings and scrimpings from the cold nights of allhis years were ripe to be squandered. El-Soo stood at six thousand.He made it seven thousand. And then, in thousand-dollar bids, asfast as they could be uttered, her price went up. At fourteenthousand the two men stopped for breath.Then the unexpected happened. A still heavier club was swung. Inthe pause that ensued, the gambler, who had scented a speculation andformed a syndicate with several of his fellows, bid sixteen thousanddollars."Seventeen thousand," Porportuk said weakly."Eighteen thousand," said the king.Porportuk gathered his strength. "Twenty thousand."The syndicate dropped out. The Eldorado king raised a thousand, andPorportuk raised back; and as they bid, Akoon turned from one to theother, half menacingly, half curiously, as though to see what mannerof man it was that he would have to kill. When the king prepared tomake his next bid, Akoon having pressed closer, the king first loosedthe revolver at his hip, then said:"Twenty-three thousand.""Twenty-four thousand," said Porportuk. He grinned viciously, forthe certitude of his bidding had at last shaken the king. The lattermoved over close to El-Soo. He studied her carefully for a longwhile."And five hundred," he said at last."Twenty-five thousand," came Porportuk's raise.The king looked for a long space, and shook his head. He lookedagain, and said reluctantly, "And five hundred.""Twenty-six thousand," Porportuk snapped.The king shook his head and refused to meet Tommy's pleading eye. Inthe meantime Akoon had edged close to Porportuk. El-Soo's quick eyenoted this, and, while Tommy wrestled with the Eldorado king foranother bid, she bent, and spoke in a low voice in the ear of aslave. And while Tommy's "Going--going--going--" dominated the air,the slave went up to Akoon and spoke in a low voice in his ear.Akoon made no sign that he had heard, though El-Soo watched himanxiously."Gone!" Tommy's voice rang out. "To Porportuk, for twenty-sixthousand dollars."Porportuk glanced uneasily at Akoon. All eyes were centred uponAkoon, but he did nothing."Let the scales be brought," said El-Soo."I shall make payment at my house," said Porportuk."Let the scales be brought," El-Soo repeated. "Payment shall be madehere where all can see."So the gold scales were brought from the trading post, whilePorportuk went away and came back with a man at his heels, on whoseshoulders was a weight of gold-dust in moose-hide sacks. Also, atPorportuk's back, walked another man with a rifle, who had eyes onlyfor Akoon."Here are the notes and mortgages," said Porportuk, "for fifteenthousand nine hundred and sixty-seven dollars and seventy-fivecents."El-Soo received them into her hands and said to Tommy, "Let them bereckoned as sixteen thousand.""There remains ten thousand dollars to be paid in gold," Tommy said.Porportuk nodded, and untied the mouths of the sacks. El-Soo,standing at the edge of the bank, tore the papers to shreds and sentthem fluttering out over the Yukon. The weighing began, but halted."Of course, at seventeen dollars," Porportuk had said to Tommy, as headjusted the scales."At sixteen dollars," El-Soo said sharply."It is the custom of all the land to reckon gold at seventeen dollarsfor each ounce," Porportuk replied. "And this is a businesstransaction."El-Soo laughed. "It is a new custom," she said. "It began thisspring. Last year, and the years before, it was sixteen dollars anounce. When my father's debt was made, it was sixteen dollars. Whenhe spent at the store the money he got from you, for one ounce he wasgiven sixteen dollars' worth of flour, not seventeen. Wherefore,shall you pay for me at sixteen, and not at seventeen." Porportukgrunted and allowed the weighing to proceed."Weigh it in three piles, Tommy," she said. "A thousand dollarshere, three thousand here, and here six thousand."It was slow work, and, while the weighing went on, Akoon was closelywatched by all."He but waits till the money is paid," one said; and the word wentaround and was accepted, and they waited for what Akoon should dowhen the money was paid. And Porportuk's man with the rifle waitedand watched Akoon.The weighing was finished, and the gold-dust lay on the table inthree dark-yellow heaps. "There is a debt of my father to theCompany for three thousand dollars," said El-Soo. "Take it, Tommy,for the Company. And here are four old men, Tommy. You know them.And here is one thousand dollars. Take it, and see that the old menare never hungry and never without tobacco."Tommy scooped the gold into separate sacks. Six thousand dollarsremained on the table. El-Soo thrust the scoop into the heap, andwith a sudden turn whirled the contents out and down to the Yukon ina golden shower. Porportuk seized her wrist as she thrust the scoopa second time into the heap."It is mine," she said calmly. Porportuk released his grip, but hegritted his teeth and scowled darkly as she continued to scoop thegold into the river till none was left.The crowd had eyes for naught but Akoon, and the rifle of Porportuk'sman lay across the hollow of his arm, the muzzle directed at Akoon ayard away, the man's thumb on the hammer. But Akoon did nothing."Make out the bill of sale," Porportuk said grimly.And Tommy made out the till of sale, wherein all right and title inthe woman El-Soo was vested in the man Porportuk. El-Soo signed thedocument, and Porportuk folded it and put it away in his pouch.Suddenly his eyes flashed, and in sudden speech he addressed El-Soo."But it was not your father's debt," he said, "What I paid was theprice for you. Your sale is business of to-day and not of last yearand the years before. The ounces paid for you will buy at the postto-day seventeen dollars of flour, and not sixteen. I have lost adollar on each ounce. I have lost six hundred and twenty-fivedollars."El-Soo thought for a moment, and saw the error she had made. Shesmiled, and then she laughed."You are right," she laughed, "I made a mistake. But it is too late.You have paid, and the gold is gone. You did not think quick. It isyour loss. Your wit is slow these days, Porportuk. You are gettingold."He did not answer. He glanced uneasily at Akoon, and was reassured.His lips tightened, and a hint of cruelty came into his face."Come," he said, "we will go to my house.""Do you remember the two things I told you in the spring?" El-Sooasked, making no movement to accompany him."My head would be full with the things women say, did I heed them,"he answered."I told you that you would be paid," El-Soo went on carefully. "AndI told you that I would never be your wife.""But that was before the bill of sale." Porportuk crackled the paperbetween his fingers inside the pouch. "I have bought you before allthe world. You belong to me. You will not deny that you belong tome.""I belong to you," El-Soo said steadily."I own you.""You own me."Porportuk's voice rose slightly and triumphantly. "As a dog, I ownyou.""As a dog you own me," El-Soo continued calmly. "But, Porportuk, youforget the thing I told you. Had any other man bought me, I shouldhave been that man's wife. I should have been a good wife to thatman. Such was my will. But my will with you was that I should neverbe your wife. Wherefore, I am your dog."Porportuk knew that he played with fire, and he resolved to playfirmly. "Then I speak to you, not as El-Soo, but as a dog," he said;"and I tell you to come with me." He half reached to grip her arm,but with a gesture she held him back."Not so fast, Porportuk. You buy a dog. The dog runs away. It isyour loss. I am your dog. What if I run away?""As the owner of the dog, I shall beat you--""When you catch me?""When I catch you.""Then catch me."He reached swiftly for her, but she eluded him. She laughed as shecircled around the table. "Catch her!" Porportuk commanded theIndian with the rifle, who stood near to her. But as the Indianstretched forth his arm to her, the Eldorado king felled him with afist blow under the ear. The rifle clattered to the ground. Thenwas Akoon's chance. His eyes glittered, but he did nothing.Porportuk was an old man, but his cold nights retained for him hisactivity. He did not circle the table. He came across suddenly,over the top of the table. El-Soo was taken off her guard. Shesprang back with a sharp cry of alarm, and Porportuk would havecaught her had it not been for Tommy. Tommy's leg went out,Porportuk tripped and pitched forward on the ground. El-Soo got herstart."Then catch me," she laughed over her shoulder, as she fled away.She ran lightly and easily, but Porportuk ran swiftly and savagely.He outran her. In his youth he had been swiftest of all the youngmen. But El-Soo dodged in a willowy, elusive way. Being in nativedress, her feet were not cluttered with skirts, and her pliant bodycurved a flight that defied the gripping fingers of Porportuk.With laughter and tumult, the great crowd scattered out to see thechase. It led through the Indian encampment; and ever dodging,circling, and reversing, El-Soo and Porportuk appeared anddisappeared among the tents. El-Soo seemed to balance herselfagainst the air with her arms, now one side, now on the other, andsometimes her body, too, leaned out upon the air far from theperpendicular as she achieved her sharpest curves. And Porportuk,always a leap behind, or a leap this side or that, like a lean houndstrained after her.They crossed the open ground beyond the encampment and disappeared inthe forest. Tana-naw Station waited their reappearance, and long andvainly it waited.In the meantime Akoon ate and slept, and lingered much at thesteamboat landing, deaf to the rising resentment of Tana-naw Stationin that he did nothing. Twenty-four hours later Porportuk returned.He was tired and savage. He spoke to no one but Akoon, and with himtried to pick a quarrel. But Akoon shrugged his shoulders and walkedaway. Porportuk did not waste time. He outfitted half a dozen ofthe young men, selecting the best trackers and travellers, and attheir head plunged into the forest.Next day the steamer Seattle, bound up river, pulled in to the shoreand wooded up. When the lines were cast off and she churned out fromthe bank, Akoon was on board in the pilot-house. Not many hoursafterward, when it was his turn at the wheel, he saw a smallbirchbark canoe put off from the shore. There was only one person init. He studied it carefully, put the wheel over, and slowed down.The captain entered the pilot-house. "What's the matter?" hedemanded. "The water's good."Akoon grunted. He saw a larger canoe leaving the bank, and in itwere a number of persons. As the Seattle lost headway, he put thewheel over some more.The captain fumed. "It's only a squaw," he protested.Akoon did not grunt. He was all eyes for the squaw and the pursuingcanoe. In the latter six paddles were flashing, while the squawpaddled slowly."You'll be aground," the captain protested, seizing the wheel.But Akoon countered his strength on the wheel and looked him in theeyes. The captain slowly released the spokes."Queer beggar," he sniffed to himself.Akoon held the Seattle on the edge of the shoal water and waited tillhe saw the squaw's fingers clutch the forward rail. Then hesignalled for full speed ahead and ground the wheel over. The largecanoe was very near, but the gap between it and the steamer waswidening.The squaw laughed and leaned over the rail."Then catch me, Porportuk!" she cried.Akoon left the steamer at Fort Yukon. He outfitted a small poling-boat and went up the Porcupine River. And with him went El-Soo. Itwas a weary journey, and the way led across the backbone of theworld; but Akoon had travelled it before. When they came to thehead-waters of the Porcupine, they left the boat and went on footacross the Rocky Mountains.Akoon greatly liked to walk behind El-Soo and watch the movements ofher. There was a music in it that he loved. And especially he lovedthe well-rounded calves in their sheaths of soft-tanned leather, theslim ankles, and the small moccasined feet that were tireless throughthe longest days."You are light as air," he said, looking up at her. "It is no labourfor you to walk. You almost float, so lightly do your feet rise andfall. You are like a deer, El-Soo; you are like a deer, and youreyes are like deer's eyes, sometimes when you look at me, or when youhear a quick sound and wonder if it be danger that stirs. Your eyesare like a deer's eyes now as you look at me."And El-Soo, luminous and melting, bent and kissed Akoon."When we reach the Mackenzie, we will not delay," Akoon said later."We will go south before the winter catches us. We will go to thesunlands where there is no snow. But we will return. I have seenmuch of the world, and there is no land like Alaska, no sun like oursun, and the snow is good after the long summer.""And you will learn to read," said El-Soo.And Akoon said, "I will surely learn to read." But there was delaywhen they reached the Mackenzie. They fell in with a band ofMackenzie Indians, and, hunting, Akoon was shot by accident. Therifle was in the hands of a youth. The bullet broke Akoon's rightarm and, ranging farther, broke two of his ribs. Akoon knew roughsurgery, while El-Soo had learned some refinements at Holy Cross.The bones were finally set, and Akoon lay by the fire for them toknit. Also, he lay by the fire so that the smoke would keep themosquitoes away.Then it was that Porportuk, with his six young men, arrived. Akoongroaned in his helplessness and made appeal to the Mackenzies. ButPorportuk made demand, and the Mackenzies were perplexed. Porportukwas for seizing upon El-Soo, but this they would not permit.Judgment must be given, and, as it was an affair of man and woman,the council of the old men was called--this that warm judgment mightnot be given by the young men, who were warm of heart.The old men sat in a circle about the smudge-fire. Their faces werelean and wrinkled, and they gasped and panted for air. The smoke wasnot good for them. Occasionally they struck with withered hands atthe mosquitoes that braved the smoke. After such exertion theycoughed hollowly and painfully. Some spat blood, and one of them sata bit apart with head bowed forward, and bled slowly and continuouslyat the mouth; the coughing sickness had gripped them. They were asdead men; their time was short. It was a judgment of the dead."And I paid for her a heavy price," Porportuk concluded hiscomplaint. "Such a price you have never seen. Sell all that isyours--sell your spears and arrows and rifles, sell your skins andfurs, sell your tents and boats and dogs, sell everything, and youwill not have maybe a thousand dollars. Yet did I pay for the woman,El-Soo, twenty-six times the price of all your spears and arrows andrifles, your skins and furs, your tents and boats and dogs. It was aheavy price."The old men nodded gravely, though their weazened eye-slits widenedwith wonder that any woman should be worth such a price. The onethat bled at the mouth wiped his lips. "Is it true talk?" he askedeach of Porportuk's six young men. And each answered that it wastrue."Is it true talk?" he asked El-Soo, and she answered, "It is true.""But Porportuk has not told that he is an old man," Akoon said, "andthat he has daughters older than El-Soo.""It is true, Porportuk is an old man," said El-Soo."It is for Porportuk to measure the strength his age," said he whobled at the mouth. "We be old men. Behold! Age is never so old asyouth would measure it."And the circle of old men champed their gums, and nodded approvingly,and coughed."I told him that I would never be his wife," said El-Soo."Yet you took from him twenty-six times all that we possess?" asked aone-eyed old man.El-Soo was silent."It is true?" And his one eye burned and bored into her like a fierygimlet."It is true," she said."But I will run away again," she broke out passionately, a momentlater. "Always will I run away.""That is for Porportuk to consider," said another of the old men."It is for us to consider the judgment.""What price did you pay for her?" was demanded of Akoon."No price did I pay for her," he answered. "She was above price. Idid not measure her in gold-dust, nor in dogs, and tents, and furs."The old men debated among themselves and mumbled in undertones."These old men are ice," Akoon said in English. "I will not listento their judgment, Porportuk. If you take El-Soo, I will surely killyou."The old men ceased and regarded him suspiciously. "We do not knowthe speech you make," one said."He but said that he would kill me," Porportuk volunteered. "So itwere well to take from him his rifle, and to have some of your youngmen sit by him, that he may not do me hurt. He is a young man, andwhat are broken bones to youth!"Akoon, lying helpless, had rifle and knife taken from him, and toeither side of his shoulders sat young men of the Mackenzies. Theone-eyed old man arose and stood upright. "We marvel at the pricepaid for one mere woman," he began; "but the wisdom of the price isno concern of ours. We are here to give judgment, and judgment wegive. We have no doubt. It is known to all that Porportuk paid aheavy price for the woman El-Soo. Wherefore does the woman El-Soobelong to Porportuk and none other." He sat down heavily, andcoughed. The old men nodded and coughed."I will kill you," Akoon cried in English.Porportuk smiled and stood up. "You have given true judgment," hesaid to the council, "and my young men will give to you much tobacco.Now let the woman be brought to me."Akoon gritted his teeth. The young men took El-Soo by the arms. Shedid not resist, and was led, her face a sullen flame, to Porportuk."Sit there at my feet till I have made my talk," he commanded. Hepaused a moment. "It is true," he said, "I am an old man. Yet can Iunderstand the ways of youth. The fire has not all gone out of me.Yet am I no longer young, nor am I minded to run these old legs ofmine through all the years that remain to me. El-Soo can run fastand well. She is a deer. This I know, for I have seen and run afterher. It is not good that a wife should run so fast. I paid for hera heavy price, yet does she run away from me. Akoon paid no price atall, yet does she run to him."When I came among you people of the Mackenzie, I was of one mind.As I listened in the council and thought of the swift legs of El-Soo,I was of many minds. Now am I of one mind again but it is adifferent mind from the one I brought to the council. Let me tellyou my mind. When a dog runs once away from a master, it will runaway again. No matter how many times it is brought back, each timeit will run away again. When we have such dogs, we sell them. El-Soo is like a dog that runs away. I will sell her. Is there any manof the council that will buy?"The old men coughed and remained silent"Akoon would buy," Porportuk went on, "but he has no money.Wherefore I will give El-Soo to him, as he said, without price. Evennow will I give her to him."Reaching down, he took El-Soo by the hand and led her across thespace to where Akoon lay on his back."She has a bad habit, Akoon," he said, seating her at Akoon's feet."As she has run away from me in the past, in the days to come she mayrun away from you. But there is no need to fear that she will everrun away, Akoon. I shall see to that. Never will she run away fromyou--this is the word of Porportuk. She has great wit. I know, foroften has it bitten into me. Yet am I minded myself to give my witplay for once. And by my wit will I secure her to you, Akoon."Stooping, Porportuk crossed El-Soo's feet, so that the instep of onelay over that of the other; and then, before his purpose could bedivined, he discharged his rifle through the two ankles. As Akoonstruggled to rise against the weight of the young men, there washeard the crunch of the broken bone rebroken."It is just," said the old men, one to another.El-Soo made no sound. She sat and looked at her shattered ankles, onwhich she would never walk again."My legs are strong, El-Soo," Akoon said. "But never will they bearme away from you."El-Soo looked at him, and for the first time in all the time he hadknown her, Akoon saw tears in her eyes."Your eyes are like deer's eyes, El-Soo," he said."Is it just?" Porportuk asked, and grinned from the edge of the smokeas he prepared to depart."It is just," the old men said. And they sat on in the silence.
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