The conjurer’s voice swelled into a loud song as the ceremony progressed. The kaip-puk heaved, while the figure beneath seemed to be engaged in a violent struggle, presumably with some turbulent spirit.
Meanwhile the noise made by Ocpic had gradually stirred Broom’s senses. He slowly awoke, raised himself on one elbow, and gazed at the heaving kaip-puk as if fascinated. He brushed his hand across his eyes sharply as if to make sure he was thoroughly awake, then threw another hasty, startled glance in the same direction. Presently he smiled grimly as the import of the scene grew clear to him. After watching the Eskimo’s struggles for some moments longer, Broom dropped his legs over the side of the bunk and sat in a stooping position. He was occupying the lower bunk and the limited space above would not allow him to sit upright. He then noticed Roy’s presence for the first time.
“What’s the bally performance?” he inquired, catching a glance from the trader.
“Oh, I’ve lost the key of the trading store, and Ocpic’s finding it for me,” responded Roy. The conjurer was still enveloped in the kaip-puk, and, taking advantage of this, the speaker closed an eye.
Broom’s eye twinkled. “Ah,” he said significantly with a smile and a meaning glance at the struggling bulk, which was now undergoing astounding evolutions.
A moment later a tremendous upheaval occurred and the Eskimo’s head appeared. He sat blinking at Roy, his overheated countenance perspiring profusely.
“The spirit wants to know what kind of key it is,” he said breathlessly.
“A big key,” returned the trader, illustrating its length with his two index fingers.
Ocpic nodded comprehendingly, gazed seriously around the room for a moment, then, taking a long breath, again disappeared.
The two white men glanced at each other and smiled.