"I did not kill this bear," said his grandson after a dramatic pause.
It was at this juncture that the challenge from without brought these explanations temporarily to a close, and when the men re-entered the tee-pee both felt that they had more momentous matter in hand than the relative positions of the ladies.
Said the old chief, "Thou art in for it now. I would have warned thee hadst thou not spoken so fast. My nephew has a bad heart. While thou wast absent he has been sucking away from me the hearts of my young men. Some he has beaten, and some he has bought, and some he has talked over. But, I have kept the place warm for thee. I still dreamed of thy home-coming. Never camest thou to me in sleep as thou wouldst have come hadst thou been dead. But, this challenge and thy taking of it up is a heavy matter. Honk-Ah has come on in his spear-throwing. And he has great store of excellent weapons, well-handled, well-headed, well-balanced. And, where are thine?—Thou hast come home empty-handed. It is not well. But, since thou hast spoken I see no way out of a re-trial."
"Nor I, chief," said Pŭl-Yūn, making low and dutiful obeisance, for the old man's grave slow tones failed to hide a heart shaken by the presence of long-expected and now imminent calamity, his grandson would show courage enough for both,—"Nor would I put it off for a day. Leave my wife and me to look over our weapons. All will go as thou wouldst wish."
And to this the old chief listened with a grunt, a somewhat weak grunt, as his grandson thought. The head-wife was harder to satisfy, a matter which Pŭl-Yūn must take upon himself, as he presently discovered, for her husband sate mute, letting her nag and question whilst Dêh-Yān worked in silence and with despatch. What had come to the old chief? He had not used to be so acquiescent: his grandson turned it over in his mind, nor found any solution, being unacquainted with the premonitory symptoms of age, the indisposition to take a strong line because inward warnings forbid its being followed up effectively. There were few old men among the Sun-Folk. The whole generation between the old chief and the youth of the tribe had perished in a disastrous fight with their southern neighbours some years before; a blow which had necessitated a prompt removal from the disputed hunting-grounds and the stone-quarry, the object of the battle. It was there that the fathers of Pŭl-Yūn and his cousin had fallen. The Sun-Men, in fact, had been a dwindling clan for nearly two generations, always liable to be cut off from their supplies of two necessities, weapon-stone and wives, neither of which could they obtain save at undue risks. Now with savages to dwindle is the precursory process of death. The braves knew this and were restless.
So, during the hard weather of the past winter, the feeling among the young warriors of the tribe that a younger and more active chief was needed had been gathering to a head. There is small reverence for age among the lowest savages: the Eskimo, nearest of existing races to the Old Stone men of whom we are speaking, give little deference to the grey head and the weak hand. Here, among the Sun-Men, the process of supersession was beginning, the new leaf was pushing off the old.
"It seems to me," murmured Dêh-Yān to her husband, "it seems to me that on this side of the ranges also the young bulls are making ready to drive an old tusker from the herd." Pŭl-Yūn grunted, testing the point of an arrow with his thumb.
But, although he had said nothing, Pŭl-Yūn's eyes and mind were at work, and the impression of instability, of a new spirit among his people since he had last been with them, and of impending and far-reaching changes, lay down with him and arose with him next morning. And was promptly confirmed, for his rival and his rival's backers had been up and out betimes; the lists were already set and the mark fixed, a matter which was the business of the chief alone.
The old chief saw what had been done and nodded acquiescence. It might be that the sceptre was passing from him: he would have one more fight for it, but the fight should be upon ground of his own choosing. He was too great-minded to quibble over trifles, and in truth the lists were well-set and the mark as truly and fairly fixed as he could have desired.