Then an embarrassing episode took place.
Makuik, who had marshalled his flock before him, suddenly seized the lovely Ikik by the shoulder and thrust her into my arms.
"You take," he said, smiling broadly. "Me give."
Her warm body pressed against me, not unwilling. It is the Kryptok custom, as usual as giving a man a drink.
Confused and inefficient, I stood there. But my perplexity was shattered by another surprise. A compact, wiry form hurled itself between us. It was Sausalito, her face livid with fury!
"You let that woman be!" she shrieked, panting, glaring.
Makuik shrugged his shoulders and pushed the Eskimo woman roughly toward her fellow wives. Then, turning, he glanced contemptuously at Sausalito.
"No good ... you eat." He leered, swinging off toward his sub-cellar.
"Dog-face!" screamed Sausalito. "Pig's-foot...."