"Father Wills come." Nicholas took up the tale afresh. "Shamán come. Father Wills heap mad. He no let Shamán stay."
"No; him say, 'Go! plenty quick, plenty far. Hey, you! Mush!'"
They smoked awhile in silence broken only by coughs.
"Shamán say, 'Yukon Inua plenty mad.'"
"Who is Yukon Inua? Where does he live?"
"Unner Yukon ice," whispered Nicholas. "Oh, the river spirit?... Of course."
"Him heap strong. Long time"—he motioned back into the ages with one slim brown hand—"fore Holy Cross here, Yukon Inua take good care Pymeuts."
"No tell Father Wills?"
"No."
Then in a low guttural voice: "Shamán come again."