Meanwhile, Sahanderry, trying to appear at ease, was in the kitchen preparing dinner. He broke off short in a song to glance at Ocpic who was squatting in a corner, watching him from beneath lowered brows. Mustering courage, Sahanderry again burst forth, but only managed two lines before his courage again failed him. His song stopped abruptly; he wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a hand that trembled; his eyes rolled in their sockets, and his hair stood on end more than usual. Then he laughed the short mirthless laugh of a man who was afraid.
At this juncture the door opened and Delgezie appeared, accompanied by Minnihak, and Sahanderry’s face brightened instantly. He greeted the newcomers with effusion. Feeling that he had a sympathetic confidant in Delgezie, he related the story of the stolen key. But the old man evidently was made of “sterner stuff.” He listened to the tale with the keenest attention and at first looked puzzled, then astonished, then fierce and wrathful.
The story was no sooner finished than Delgezie called Minnihak to him and, despite Sahanderry’s protests, and his own limited knowledge of the Eskimo language, he acquainted him with what had occurred.
Minnihak nodded twice after the old man had finished speaking, as if to let him know that he perfectly understood, then, walking across the kitchen, he squatted down a few feet in front of Ocpic and sat gazing fixedly at him.
Ocpic, no whit abashed, returned the look.
After some moments of silence, “You’re a thief!” said Minnihak sharply, and there was a prolonged wait. The two Eskimo glared fiercely at each other, Ocpic’s breath came quickly, and his eyes glittered evilly. At length he got slowly to his feet.
The other did likewise and, standing silently, the two men continued their fixed stare.
Presently Ocpic deliberately threw off his coat and shirt and again Minnihak leisurely followed suit. Then, still in perfect silence, they straightened themselves, and, standing naked to the waist, prepared for a pugilistic encounter.
Stationing themselves at arm’s length the belligerents stood firm, and Ocpic, considering himself the better man, allowed his opponent the first blow and placed himself in the required position to receive it. With left arm drawn tight against his side and the shoulder pushed well forward, he stood offering the other a fair opportunity to strike his exposed biceps.
Minnihak paused a moment, as if mustering his strength, then, with a swinging blow, he struck. The blow was received with a grim smile, and the arm fell into its natural position, proclaiming the recipient ready to take his revenge.